Saturday, September 8, 2012

Red pill/ Blue pill

Fall. What a season.

Autumn makes me nostalgic. It makes me miss faces I haven't seen in years and old familiar places. It makes me nest like an animal going into hibernation. Fall is a season to get your affairs in order before winter sets in and its time to buckle down through the parkas and the almost frostbitten toes.

I am getting my affairs in order, folks. 

Here's a little story;

When I was 16 I was diagnosed with acute Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. This basically runs the gamut as far as "symptoms" are concerned; depression, anxiety, self harm, suicide attempts, eating disorder, flashbacks and dissasociation. I had them all. I was in need of serious help and so I was placed in a mental health facility for youth for a long time. I don't remember exactly, but it was almost 10 months I believe. Before that, I had spent a month in an adult ward at a different hospital waiting to be transferred. So in total it was about a year. This all happened in the fall.

I was on medication already for depression and the doctors spent that year figuring out the perfect cocktail to at least keep me stable. I hated it. I hated the institution and the doctors telling me that I needed to talk. I didn't want to talk, not to them at least. I had never talked to anyone about anything except for my best friend K. I was utterly beligerent and defiant as a teenager who certainly didn't trust anyone. I had good reason not to trust anyone.

When I left there, I stayed on my meds and did good for a little while. Then I fell harder into drugs and drinking. That had always been my fix, my cure. As far as I was concerned, the doctors and shrinks and social workers and counsellors could go to hell. I was going to do things my way, period.

Somehow, I think I stayed on my meds though. I kept taking them.

And then I sobered up. I got clean and two years after I decided that I had more tools to deal with life and came off all the medication.

Its been four years since then. I have mostly fought the overwhelming highs and lows to keep my life somewhat manageable. I have convinced myself that I am fine, that whatever happens I can deal with it. I have been adament, even through bitter lows and really bad decisions while I am on "ups", about never going back on medication. It's one of the accomplishments I am most proud of, to be free of these little pills that the doctors told me I might always need to take.

And then my bubble burst last week. I had a moment of clarity and I was able to be honest with myself for the first time in a long time. I am not ok and my emotions are far from manageable. They haven't been in a long time. I have extreme mood swings. I can have a great day, be in a great mood (which is always more "ecstatic" and "excitable" than just a good mood) and then crash so hard that I want to go back to doing drugs and drinking just to escape this cycle. I do impulsive things. Sometimes dangerous, impulsive things. My compulsions when I am happy have led me to things which I don't recognize. I don't recognize my own behaviour, because they are things I wouldn't and don't want to do. But yet I do them, over and over and over.

So I went to a doctor and told her my history, told her what is happening now. I feel weak, scared, and ashamed. I know that these things are not my fault. I know that I need to surrender and admit my powerlessness over my mental health issues, at least as far as "managing" it on my own. I can't do this alone anymore. So I went back on medication and I'm feeling only the side effects. It takes a few weeks for these things to balance out. I hope it will. I'm so tired of this cycle, of this tornado of emotions I am constantly in. I want to have a relationship, I want to maintain consistent friendships, I want to not cry at work or feel so excited that my skin is crawling with anxious energy. I want to be able to to rest normally, instead of swinging back and forth between insomnia and sleeping 14 hrs a night.

I know its going to take more than medication. I know they're not magic pills. I've been refered to a psychiatrist for re-evaluation, since the last one was over 10 years ago. I'm looking into therapy and counselling. I feel like I am going down another mental health services rabbit hole.

Except this time I'm willing to talk. And willingness just might be the key.


1 comment:

  1. Good for you Megan..nice to hear your story..Just have Faith dear that God looks after all..You are never alone if you have God Megan! God Bless You for being so brave..Wayne

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