I hate taking my meds, I really fucking hate it. Everyday I have to force myself to take them because my brain tries to convince me that I don’t need them, and sometimes I’ll go rogue and not take them but I generally get caught out by my family or friends and then I’m forced to take them again.
The shit thing about Bipolar is that, while 90% of it sucks, the manic periods can be awesome. I can get so much done! Maybe I’m just miss having energy, my body is so shit right now.
I just have no creativity and I keep gaining weight and it all sucks, and what makes it worse is that the doctors are still playing with my meds…..uuuuuggghhh
I do get curious as to what I would be like if I wasn’t on anything, when I say this to the people in my life they remind me that the last time I decided to go rogue with my meds I ended up in a psych ward……might be nice to have another vacation….Kidding mum!!
I wake to the sounds of my child crying, my own human alarm clock. I close my eyes and silently beg for just 5 minutes more, as I’m not ready to start another day that will inevitably be just like the last.
While my little ones smiles give me bursts of happiness, his screams however, drive me to madness. I snap at him numerous times throughout the day, please stop making that horrible whinging sound, I’ll give you anything.
People tell me that all mothers have those feelings of uselessness, as if I should find comfort in that fact, but all I feel is hollow. My kid is 2 years old now and I’m still waiting for those maternal instincts to kick in, any day now.
Medication, medication, medication. I’m sure that people can hear me rattling as I walk by. I take them in the hopes that I will feel better for it but instead I feel twisted and lost. I fear that the search for the right medication and the right dose may very well destroy me.
The paranoia is kicking back in but luckily I’m too exhausted to feel terribly put out by the people in my roof and the whispering in my head can’t keep me awake any more than my child can in the middle of the day. Exhaustion runs my life. How is it that I can still feel so alone even though I never am?
I’m floating through my life in a drugged out daze, dreaming of the day when I will be free of this. Until then I continue on, groundhog day.