Bittersweet.


Refilling this on a Sunday night is bittersweet. Not just because of the coating on each pill, but because it symbolises both how far I’ve come and how far I have left to go.

On the one hand I’m aware, while popping each pill out of its packaging, that I can’t function without these little guys. That I cannot cope with life, it’s too much, it’s overwhelming and I don’t want to carry on anymore. Each tablet contributes to my life in a way I depend on. That can be a scary realisation.

On the other hand I’m reminded that I have control of my own medication again. I’m safe to take charge of it. It’s not a danger for me to have all of these pills within my reach anymore. I’m reminded that I have the power to decide what’s best for me, to know what works and what doesn’t.

For a few months I have been taking a low dose antipsychotic, used as a mood stabiliser. I’m not ashamed of that. Unfortunately after three months I decided that the side effects I was having from this medication wasn’t worth it for the minuscule improvement in my emotional stability. I safely and gradually weaned off it and, a few weeks later, I’m only just starting to notice myself feeling slightly more like me again.

Coming off Quetiapine wasn’t a decision I made lightly. For almost two years while I was on the waiting list to see a psychiatrist, I have wanted to give mood stabilisers a try. I knew from my own research that it is rare for the first type you try to be the right one for you, but even still I wanted to keep pushing on and try to get past the side effects. I could put up with the nausea, the dizziness, the hot and cold phases, the nearly falling over, the extreme sleepiness. But what I wouldn’t, and still won’t, accept is the complete brain fog I experienced.

Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve always been able to articulate anything I’ve needed to, but Quetiapine made my mind so cloudy that I was struggling to maintain concentration, have conversations, or even think of the right words to use in simple sentences. This was not me. I was no longer reaching out to friends, I was shutting off from everything, detaching from my support network and isolating myself. I just couldn’t communicate anymore. And that’s when I decided I couldn’t do it anymore. The physical effects are one thing, but the complete zombie effect is a whole different story.

A week after coming off Quetiapine I saw my psychiatrist again and we decided to try a different approach and she upped one of the meds I was already on. It’s been a few weeks now and I’m experiencing some side effects - though I’m hoping they lessen as I settle into this higher dose like they did before. 

So, as I fasten the lid on my neatly organised pills for the coming week, I’m frustrated that I need to take pills in the first place, but I’m also so grateful that I’m able to communicate my thoughts, feelings and wishes about my own path to recovery. I am in control.

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