When I first came out of the psych ward after my brief sojourn there, I used to hoard certain pills: Diazepam when I was on it, and then Chlorpromazine. They were supposed to calm my brain and help me to sleep but I would just hoard them. Eventually, I had to seek alternative drugs because I realised I was keeping them as insurance. I’d rather go sleepless and watch them pile because as long as I had them, I had a means. I would think to myself that if it gets overwhelming I can use them to opt out — I can OD on them. A few months ago when I started to get a bit better, I took away that option. I threw them out and got the doctors to put me on a different cocktail.
Fast forward (or rewind, I really don’t care which you do) to about a month or 3 weeks ago, I was in a weird place and I was confused about my entire life — yeah, yeah, that happens a lot. I was trying to hold on to something just because it was the familiar. Every time things got a bit low, I questioned whether my drugs were really working or if I’d just convinced myself that I really needed to spend those tens of thousands of naira on them monthly. So I stopped taking my drugs. Totally.
Yesterday, I had what I’d like to think of as a normal person meltdown because it was absolutely justified. But see, the thing about being open about having a mental illness is that when you’re having normal righteous anger (I’d like to think that smashing my own S4 and not another person’s phone is a very calm thing to do) someone is going to try to tie it to your condition. I don’t really care when it’s a stranger coz, fuck what anyone thinks, I’m awesome. But when it’s someone whose shit you’ve spent years protecting from the world because they are your own asshole, then well, that just makes me BPD mad. But I am proud of how normal person mad I remained, I think.
Yesterday I learnt a lot of lessons. Like: you can protect someone even at your own expense without them doing same for you, with them actively hiding their own faults behind your assumption of blame. I learnt that people who shouldn’t will come at me with this thing, but do I really care? No, coz I’m back on my meds and I’m in my Zoloft state of mind at the moment… It also brings with it the initial side effects, like sleeplessness, and that’s why I’m typing this at 3am in a hotel room that someone awesome paid for. I also learnt that when I’m hurt or angry is not the time to exert influence or exercise power. I am proud of the final decisions I made yesterday.
Oh, also, I learnt that you can find love in the most unexpected places and I’m grateful for the folks in my office who give me choices and promise to support my decisions, who make it hard for me to be sad, who talked me through the meltdown and coaxed me into getting back on my meds. They work. The difference is crystal clear in 24 hours.
The moral of this story is: Don’t ever let anyone, even yourself, tell you your psych meds are placebos. Take your meds and stay away from people who bring general fuckness into your life.
P.S. I know I’m the worst blogger or whatever but I’m too busy trying to get through each hour or day most of the time. One day this site will be what I want it to be.