How Do I Drug Thee? Let Me Count The Ways

Despite the fact that I take a small handbag of mind-altering drugs every day, I can't seem to get past the depression I've suffered over the past many months. There are a few days, here and there, when my husband and I can find ways to pull my head out of my rectum and I'm able to smell what passes for fresh air; I grab those good days and hold them to me like a three-year-old holding his favourite toy from his little sister: THIS IS MY DAY, YOU MAY NOT STEAL IT! I generally manage to resist the urge to smack people.

Where was I? Oh yes. So I continue to take these stupid pills that seem to have stopped helping me. Each month I visit the psychiatrist (whom I detest for a variety of reasons), and we discuss what we're going to do for the next month or two. You don't get to make major changes when you're in this situation: if you do, you can't tell which change it was that made the damned difference. So ... you make one miniscule change and see what happens. Whoop-dee-fuckin'-doo. So what's the biggest irony in all this? (I need to change font here ...)

I HATE TAKING PILLS.

I hate everything about them. I hate the fact that there is row upon row of bottles upon my bathroom counter and that my life is dependent upon them. At night I go through them and find the "night-time meds". Those are the ones that will knock me out. While I peruse this group, I have to determine how tired I am, or how wired. Do I have to get up early? Am I too keyed up to sleep? Am I anxious? Then I take the "regular" dose of each med, and add to it, according to what I've decided. While it would be easier to say, "screw it!" and not take any extras, there's no question that I need to, or I'm not going to sleep that night. Added to that are blood pressure medication, migraine medication and allergy medication. Isn't this fun, fun, fun!??

In the morning, I do it all again. Some I have to take. Some I don't want to, but again, must assess my mindset and do it anyway. For some people, this isn't a big deal, and that's great for them. For me, it's a huge deal, and it always has been.

Every once in a while, you'll hear someone talk about how they suffer from depression, and they refuse to medicate it. They're NOT allowing the problem to run their lives, and they will NOT take a pill for it, because that would mean they're ill ~ those people find other ways to deal with their pain; I say, if you can do it, all the more power to you. Unfortunately for me, when I read what they're saying, what I hear is, "YOU ARE NOT STRONG ENOUGH!" Or, alternately, "YOU ARE NOT REALLY ILL". When it comes from someone you have had an affinity with, it smarts, whether they meant it to, or not.

The problem is, I don't just suffer from depression. I have bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder. There are mood swings so wild that I invariably end up in tears of frustration; it happens in a heartbeat: one moment, so blackly depressed that I'm staring blindly out a window, thinking only of the escape I desperately need to find, and suddenly a surge of joy, inexplicable in it's advance. I'll grab on to it, and take advantage in any way I can, getting things done, cuddling with my husband, shopping, cooking. But as fast as it comes, it goes: ephemeral, ethereal, mystical.

Unfortunately, it doesn't end there. Those moods, while frustrating, aren't nearly as dangerous as the lack of impulse control I suffer, brought on by borderline personality disorder. This alone is reason enough to medicate me. When one becomes a danger to oneself and others, doctors tend to want to lessen the impact. Unfortunately, nothing seems to be helping anymore. My driving has gone from reasonable back to episodes of road rage and speeding; I started drinking while taking these medications (I've since stopped); the desire to cut is so strong I can taste it, and what's most disturbing is that I have had, on more than one occasion, the very strong urge to bite my husband! Every once in a while, when I'm REALLY lucky, I have a manic surge, and it all goes away for a few days; that in itself is a mood swing, but at least it's an "up" swing. Unfortunately, when you crash, you crash into depression again.

So yesterday I saw the psychiatrist for my regular apointment. While I don't like the woman, I grudgingly admit she's good at what she does. She's a no-nonsense witch who knows her job. In the past, I've managed to run over many health care professionals, simply because I have a strong personality. That doesn't happen with this one. It's rather irritating. But we talked at length about my inability to get past this depressive state, and it's danger to me; so ........

Meggy gets another pill.

This SO does not make me happy. I asked if I could get rid of something else; of course she said no: if there are any changes in my condition, we won't know what caused it.

So now my mind-altering drugs include:
Depakote
Topomax
Seroquel
Abilify

That doesn't include what I take for migraine (x2), blood pressure, allergies (x2) and herbal remedies when necessary. THIS IS SICK.

What I've decided is that I'll give this 10 weeks. Five weeks on this dosage, and if it's working, another five weeks on a higher dosage. If there's no considerable improvement, I want to stop it all. Everything. It occurs to me that I no longer have any idea who I am. Am I this depressed without it all? Will I be just as crazy? Am I FUN? Who knows, maybe I'm more crazy, but an absolute blast to party with! But I need to get my head back. Of course I didn't tell HER that.

For anyone who has ever "lost their head", it's a frustrating experience. Some women describe this during pregnancy. They talk about being forgetful, losing their keys, and not being able to come up with a word during a conversation when in the past it would have been run-of-the-mill. Try living this all the time! I'm so tired of having someone else finish my sentences for me. I'm so tired of trying to come up with relatively intelligent conversation, knowing that I used to be able to do that, but now, because of these stupid drugs, I cannot. I am so tired of saying one thing, only to hear it come out of my mouth, and realizing that I meant something entirely different.

I want my mind back. I need to know who I am again, even if it's some completely crazed woman. Then if I can't do it on my own, I'll start over and see if we can't get it right this time. But dear God, I cannot bear to continue to swallow handful after handful of drugs with names like anti-depressants, impulse control, and anti-psychotics. Meggy needs to come home.

Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most.