Spoonful of Sugar and I Still Don’t Want to Down These Drugs

I didn’t take my meds last night. … Or this morning… I just didn’t want to.  I’ll take them tonight or tomorrow, I’m sure.  One of the major symptoms (signs?) of bipolar disorder is that someone who is on medication will feel “better” and stop taking their pills. Sometimes they do alright for a bit before crashing, sometimes they don’t.  I’m not one of those people. I’m having a fairly alright time right now still.  Ups and downs throughout the day, but nothing severe.  This is a good thing. And yet… I don’t want to take my meds.  I don’t say this as in “I’m better, I need not these chemicals!” but more so “I’m so fucking sick of swallowing a handful of foul tasting chalk that never quite goes down right, and even still makes me nauseated anyway.”

I don’t feel better, or fixed, or the need to be med-free.  Okay, maybe I do feel a little better than I was a year ago.  That’s progress, not sticking my hand in a rabid dog’s mouth.  While I don’t think that half of my pills have much of an effect on me (that’s an entire post of its own if I ever get around to it.), I’m not really into randomly stopping medicine because I want to. Shit, when I lost 20 pounds in two weeks because the Lithium made me so sick and the doctor refused to see me or change the meds, I stayed the course.  “Stick it out, it’ll be fine,” she’d said.  I walked in, “… Wow, so we’ll change your medication.”  I think it’s something to do with having faith in the medical professionals who spent 10 years in education to learn how to do this.  Trust your instincts, niblets.

I’m drifting. I do that a lot, I know.  Back to the point. I don’t want to take my meds. I’m just tired of every night before bed taking a fat handful of pills, and feeling so nauseated that all I can do is lie there and stare at the ceiling in the dark, hoping I fall asleep before I vomit.  Woe is the insomniac. Then daylight hits, and I get up and do the same thing.  At least my vitamins are chewies.  I know, I know. What’s the alternative, an endless spiral of insanity?  That may look fun in the movies, but in the real world, it’s one of the most terrifying things I can imagine.

That said, I’m not entirely sure that I won’t stab the next person who says “Quit all of the meds and just smoke pot,” to me.  It isn’t a cure all. Sure, it may help with pain, and some sleeping problems, but it isn’t going to magically fix my brain.  I’ve never had any desire to smoke anything, the smell repulses me (both tobacco and marijuana), and quite frankly, I find it downright insulting that people who have known me for years (and my disdain for the drug) tend to be the people who suggest it.  It’s just disappointing.

I swear I’ll try to convince myself to choke down the talc tonight.


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