As a woman, your body & your life really revolves around cycles. We are slaves to the moon.
I have a cycle of my own. It's the pill cycle. I'm a slave to the little bottles that I neatly line up on my bookshelf. This one is 3 milligrams. That one is 60. Over there, that's the big bottle. Those bad boys are 150s of which I take two. Every morning I take the pills. They are the ones that dull my pain. They make it difficult to cry. They make it better for the people who surround me in my life.
With no money and no job, I rely on the county that I live in to provide my medicine for me. Every 30 days I call up the nurse who checks my doctors appointments and gives me a little brown lunch bag filled with the good stuff. Keep that girl's seratonin levels in check. Make sure she doesn't have to go to the hospital again.
Even though I know they know, last September when everyone came for the big weekend, I had to hide my pills. I took them when no one was looking. Making sure not everyone knew I was the crazy girl. 12 years after my diagnosis, I still feel shame. Millions of people in this country suffer from different types of depression but I still can't overcome the stigma. I tell people more freely than I did in my teens what I suffer but I still feel like I'm waiting for the shoe to drop. When is the moment going to be when they give me a funny look and slowly back away?
I hate the pills. Before I started taking them again I was thin. Now, clearly I am not. They make things different. More gray. They make me gag. Every single time. If I don't take them I get really ill. The headache and nausea is the telltale sign that I've forgotten them that day. I had to have my mom in charge of them for a long time, because well....you know. She still gets nervous that I have them now but I'm OK. I'm really OK. I may hate to take them but they do serve some purpose.
I don't know how long I will have to take them. Maybe forever. I'm making positive changes in my life but my chemical makeup will always make things difficult for me.
In the meantime, just call me the pill slave.
There will be no funny looks and no walking away. Just sayin'
ReplyDeleteNo backing away, either...
ReplyDeleteAs trite as this sounds, I feel your pain. I really do. I have been dealing with depression since I was 17. That's 35 freaking years. The most hopeful thing I can tell you is that I remember very clearly being in that place. Past tense. I am not there any more. I look forward to reading about the journey you've chosen to share.
ReplyDeleteno funny looks.. no backing away.. no judgements.. nopey no.. not here...
ReplyDeletebecause i am glad to have you as a friend.. as are others i know for sure....
in moving forward, the move right now includes chemicals.. it may always, it may not.. since it helps with the move forward, it is a necessary (gaggy) nuisance.... because without forward motion who will serenade me on the ukulele?
No backing away here either!! *hugs*
ReplyDelete