Chill pills (the LONG version)...

I have recently come to accept the fact that I do not function properly without medication. My acceptance of that fact is a huge deal. For those of you who have not been around for the last 13 years of my life, I will explain why this road has been so hard to travel.

When I was 13 years old I started loosing chunks of time. My Mom took me to see a neurologist who promptly diagnosed me with seizure activity, ADD, bi-polar disorder and manic depression. I suddenly went from being a perfectly “normal” teenage girl to having a whole list of problems that required medication.

I felt so defective.

Prior to starting all the medications I had been depressed from time to time, but never to the point of wanting to harm myself. Once I started the medications that changed. I stopped feeling happy. I felt numb or sad all the time, but never happy. I was an actress though, and I didn’t want my Mom to worry about me, so I pretended that everything was fine.

When I was 15 years old I had a couple of traumatic experiences that sent me into an even more desperate state of mind. I acted like I was happier than I had ever been for two weeks. Then one night before bed I kissed my Mom and Dad goodnight, told them I loved them, closed myself in my bedroom, took three handfuls of medication and went to sleep. By the time my parents found me the next morning it was too late to pump my stomach. I slept for a long time… and then I woke up. The hospital sent social workers and psychologists in to evaluate me. I had them eating out of the palm of my hand. I’m not sure if it says something about what a good actress I am, or if it speaks more for the stupidity of the doctors in this area, but by the time they left the room I had them convinced that the overdose had been an accident and that I was perfectly stable.

Not long after that, with my Mom’s loving support, I weaned myself off of the medications. I hated how it made me feel to take them. Because of that experience I have been highly against the idea of medicating myself. I was terrified that I would have another bad reaction and loose my daughter to the state because of it.

Everyone has a breaking point. Mine came after years of chronic pain and a diagnosis of Fibromyalgia. The stress and worry brought about by being physically unable to care for my children because of pain, and the support of my wonderful husband and Mom, lead me to my doctor’s office recently to try again. First I was started on a regular regimen of pain medication to help me physically function. Next came the “chill pill” to help me stop hating myself and stop beating myself up for every minor mistake I made. After that came the medication to help me focus and remember all the massive amounts of information that I need to keep track of for my family. Last came the mild muscle relaxer to help my body relax enough to repair itself a bit while I sleep.

I am now functioning better on all levels than I have in years. I only have mild pain, I am focused at work and home and emotionally I have leveled out enough not to stress over EVERYTHING that goes wrong. I am still not crazy about the fact that I DO require medication to function, but I have come to the gradual acceptance of the fact that I am a better person when I am pharmaceutically enhanced.

I like myself more. I enjoy my children more. I get more done.
So maybe medication is not as bad as I once thought…