I had another appointment with my doctor to review how the medicine has been helping me. It has been six weeks since my dose was increased, so it was a good time to make sure that it was the right one for me, before turning me loose for the next year. I had a good example and a bad example to share.
Approximately eight days after I had filled the increased dose prescription, I didn't take my pill in the morning, hoping to see for sure if that was why I was still so tired in the afternoon. The fatigue wasn't as bad as the first month on depression medicine, but it was certainly becoming a necessity to take a nap each day. Don't get me wrong, I have always loved myself a good nap, but it was hard to yawn all morning, almost immediately from waking, and be tired all morning, only to take a nap for a few hours and be tired again until bed. It was just not my favorite.
That night, as I was about to take my pill, I decided to count to make sure that I hadn't taken the pill that morning. I knew that I was the one that wanted the medication as much as I needed it, so I had programmed myself to take the pill as soon as I woke up. It seemed as ingrained as getting dressed each morning, to me. I didn't want to take more than was prescribed, so I started to count. Confused at the differing numbers, I counted the pills left and the days passed many times. Somehow I was five pills off. Knowing that the pharmacy does not give extra pills ever, I knew that the mistake had to be my fault. However, it was just as wrong, in my mind, that it was my own fault. I was programmed to take those pills. I was actually counting them because I thought there was a chance that I had already taken it that day. And here I was with five days of untaken pills. I was at a loss. It was a while before I got all caught up for the month.
While I didn't like the fact that I had messed up, I could see it as a blessing that I had. While filling my new daily-pill container, I reflected on the last few days. I realized that in those few days without it, I could feel the mania creeping back into my life. I could feel the hopelessness of my situation, scared that the medicine I thought I was taking was not working right, that I was going to become crazy once again. My thoughts and emotions become so low that I actually start thinking about drinking alcohol. I have never tasted a single drop of alcohol, so I wasn't craving the taste, but was hoping to lose my mind to the effects. I didn't want to be apart of my life again. I was overwhelmed with the simple act of breathing, sometimes. I felt possessed by the devil. I truly struggled, thinking I was unworthy of the blessings from my Heavenly Father. It was so hard to see myself slipping back into that world, one where I was completely unaware of my mistake, but thinking I would never be healed. It was pure agony, once again.
As the days progressed with the medicine in me, I became more myself. I find that my housework feels less like drudgery, my errands outside of the home become less panicked, and my associations feel less strained. I find that I care more about what others are saying to me, even my own kids with their funny/immature stories. I don't mind getting out of bed. I feel like I am living more of my own life, choosing more of my own choices. I know I need that medicine.
However, when the doctor asked if it was working well for me, I made sure to tell him that "it is working for the prescribed relief, but I was suffering from debilitating headaches." I would gladly take the headaches if it meant keeping the depression at bay, but if there was a way to have the best of both worlds, I would gladly do it. We decided to try a different prescription for a while. There is no way to really know if it would be good for me without trial and error. He told me to watch my moods closely, and to switch back to my previous pills if I noticed a change. It's not hard to watch your moods when they are what control your household and life. I am on high alert.
I have good days, for sure. I have times where I feel so content with my life that I actually cry. It feels heavenly to be able to really feel emotions other than doom and gloom. I know I am capable of great feeling. I know I am capable of caring about more than just myself. I want to become free of this for good. Right now, I hope that I can find the right tool to keep my mental state more evenly peaceful, yet my head with less pressure. It's not fun to be happy, yet wish you could shave your hair off to allow the pressure more points of release from your brain. To know that you could be out doing stuff with your family, yet sitting on the couch with a massager kneading your head.
I am so grateful for modern medicine that helps me with this. Otherwise, I would probably be an alcoholic right now. I'm not saying this in jest or judgement, but truth. I have never felt so hopeless.
No comments:
Post a Comment