With my last post I talked about my hard week and how I needed to remember to take my pills. The hubs, after he read it, told me that maybe I should talk some more about that.
I was diagnosed with depression at 12 and anxiety and insomnia at 15. I’ve been on countless medications. Some worked, some didn’t. I wasn’t diagnosed as bipolar II until I was 21. Having the correct diagnoses allowed my doctors to prescribe the correct medication. It didn’t change who I am or was. It just made things easier on all of us.
My anxiety has always been terrible. I mean keep me up at night worrying about the worst possible things that could possibly happen to me at anytime in my life. I used to tell my husband I was “contemplating the universe” when I was caught in a nasty web of worry. I was on a high dose of Klonopin when I realized I couldn’t get through my day without it. I talked to my doctor about going off of it and he gave me two options; wean off, which could take awhile, or cold turkey, but I’d have to go to the hospital for detox if I chose that. I decided cold turkey. It was in that hospital that I had a rude awakening.
There were two people in there who were bipolar and they were both there because they had stopped taking their medication and had had severe episodes. One had tried to jump off a roof and the other had attempted to take her own life. I realized then, during one of the most trying times of my life, that I would never do that.
The problem with being bipolar is that it’s not something that therapy can take care of. It’s not something that positive thoughts or praying can cure. Those help, yes. But it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain and cannot, in my case, be recovered from without the use of medication.
I take my medication for my family, my friends, my husband. I will always try my hardest to make sure that my family doesn’t have to worry about me doing something like that. Its been hard. It really is a balancing act to find the right medications to treat all of my diagnoses that won’t send me into hypomanic or depressive episodes and won’t turn me into a zombie. But it’s worth it.
My point is this; it takes me twenty seconds out of my day to take my meds. Twenty seconds. And it makes my life and the lives of those who care about me immensely better.
It’s worth it.