Alright, so clearly the meme above is allowing us to have a good laugh about a serious topic. And BOY! Do I love a good laugh.
When it comes to medication, I am in favor. The key though, is I am pro-proper-medication. I am NOT okay with people being prescribed wrong medications, NOR am I okay with doctors not listening to patients in regards to whether their medications are fitting them specifically. WE are ALL DIFFERENT; medications can’t fit like a cookie cutter – lo and behold THERE ARE OPTIONS and it’s YOURS & YOUR psychiatrists job to find the right fit for you. (It’s a two-way street)
I’ve been on the wrong medication AND I mean medications that are not even in the bipolar ball park. Not Fun. Once upon a time, I saw my family doctor because my mother insisted… apparently going 2 years with a constant pattern of only 5-7 hrs of sleep a week whilst working 2 jobs.. was not okay (who knew??) Anywho, I was put on sleeping pills. They worked for a bit… but then one day I had a huge breakdown… and I mean hyperventilating, crying, convulsing (I would hit my leg… I’ll explain that later) IT was the works (I had acted in a way that contradicted who I was and I felt sick over it, to the point I worked myself up BIG TIME) this particular episode left me with a gift. A stutter.
True story, I’d never stuttered in my life BUT by the time my father finally calmed me down (were talking 2 hrs+), I had a stutter AND it didn’t just last a day; it lasted 2 WEEKS. Talk about life unexpected! I was in university, how the heck was I supposed to go and face people who had clearly spoken to me with NO STUTTER?! I worked, how was I supposed to go to work and see/talk to my boss, co-workers and clients?? I wasn’t. I refused. This stutter was a pivotal moment in my life, where things started to surface and I nor my doctors knew what was on the way. And for a while I shut down. Largely due to fear.
I spoke to my university Dean … stutter and all BUT my father came with me because I was a wreck emotionally; when the words I previously would have spoken so clearly with ease refused to form and it took all of my energy to just say a small phrase that was chopped up I would cry, my brain hurt, my pride hurt, my heart hurt. And I had no idea how long this stutter was going to last, my doctor couldn’t tell me either. I withdrew from university. That may seem drastic but stutter aside, I was also afraid of myself. My panic attack had gone to a level I didn’t know existed AND the fear of it happening again was enough to start me hyperventilating. I quit my job. I stayed home and I didn’t go out, anyone I had talked to I stopped. I wanted to be alone & safe.
My parents are amazing. They asked and persuaded me to go see a counsellor. They figured it would help me on all accounts. So I did, just as my stutter had gone away, we talked about a lot of issues that had been surfacing prior to this BIG BANG. And it seemed to help. My doctor eventually placed me on meds for anxiety & insomnia…. and life picked up ever so slowly; I’d leave my house (that took a while – I’m just being honest). But that’s not the ending of this charming story NOR is it the end of me being prescribed medications…. I’ll continue it tomorrow OR goodness gracious this post will be forever LONG… Life happens and something made very evident to me at this particular point in my life was LIFE DOES NOT GO AS PLANNED ( BUT I’m incredibly stubborn so I didn’t accept it … yet); no matter how good we think our plan is, we have to leave ourselves some realistic cushion room for change or we’ll make ourselves sick… again speaking from experience.
Writing this particular post isn’t easy BUT I want it to be made clear – there is hope to live a happy, productive, enriched life; even with bipolar (or any mental illness). My story gets much uglier… but from where I was and where I am now I am so grateful I didn’t give up when that option was on the table for me. **** Timeline – This story is taking place in 2010 at the moment***