I’ve been on medication for my mental health since I was fourteen years old.
They started me on a tried and true staple for bipolar disorder: lithium carbonate. The first time I took it, I vomited the morning of my eighth grade graduation. But I learned to take it well and it’s been serving me ever since.
I tried risperdal, at first as needed then eventually on the regular. It didn’t stick.
Seroquel disrupted my sleep so badly it caused an episode.
Wellbutrin made me sick, but if you know me, what doesn’t?
Latuda has been great. The clarity I felt when I started it years ago was profound. Like it sucked away the bipolar depression and helped me be me again. Better than me. Thriving.
This week I started the IOP Outpatient Program. It’s too soon to say how it’ll be but everyone is encouraging me. Everyone is hoping this will be my best option. I’m hoping so too.
But today I had a teleappointment with the psychiatrist and RN. I was told they would not be changing my meds TODAY but that it may be good to look into what I’m taking and assess if dosages need adjusting or if there’s something that could be added.
It’s scary. Scary to know that what’s kept me stable for so long may no longer be doing it’s job. Scary to trust strangers with my pill regimen. Scary to try to find a new normal.
Tomorrow I go in for blood testing. Standard procedure for this kind of treatment. It’s not a big deal. I’m not afraid of needles. I watch them insert them. Technicians often tell me I’m part of something like the 4% who do that.
I just worry about what the blood will tell them. I agonize over the possibility for change. Probably because I’m not open to the idea that change could be better.
Today I had a bad migraine. Four pills of Excedrin and one Zofran for nausea did nothing. I finally broke out the Ubrelvy and about an hour and a half later, things improved. I take four pills of B2 and magnesium everyday to combat the migraines.
Pills, pills, pills. I have taken some everyday of my life since I was fourteen and still do with amounts that just keep on growing.
I tell myself I don’t want to take more. That it’s exhausting. But really am I just embarrassed? Treating medical conditions with medication is normal but it feels polarizing with mental illness. Every time I have to adjust it’s like “Shouldn’t I have dealt with this already?” But levels change. People change. I’ve changed. And that’s no one’s fault.
So here I go with reservations but openness to a change I can’t control and might actually just need.
Wish me luck!
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