Sorting out medications in the world of mental health is difficult because there are many “new”, or “second generation”, medications that are marked with a big fat question mark. No one really knows how they work, and you’re blindly creating medication cocktails based on your own history and reaction to them, and other people’s experiences too.
I’ve been so frustrated about my own journey with medications that I’ve attempted to write a poem about it. In fact, I didn’t even write a blog post last week because I was so drowsy from my medications. I just keep tweaking and taking them based on my doctor’s recommendations because I hear that your life really changes once you find the right formula. For now, it sucks, so here is my poem.
I hate that I need you
To stay calm,
To banish the “friends” in my head —
To keep my head level, balanced, and on Earth.
I hate that you have the power
To limit how much I can feel,
To defeat my Demons,
And to kill my playful Angel too,
I hate that I know there is more to life than this.
This jail cell you’ve caged me up in.
I just don’t know how to leave you,
Because you leave me in fear —
Fear of dying
Fear of myself
Fear of unleashing the beast that is my mind.
But of all the things that I hate about you,
I hate that you will erase me
And my memory
Of who I was before I needed you.
You make me drowsy.
You make me nauseous.
You kill my appetite.
And you inject me with lidocaine
To numb my mind.
Just like that,
I’ll forget that giggling glimmering Angel
That I once was —
Before you existed.
Before I needed you.
And one day
Something will remind me of
The shell that I once was
And you will
And bury me, again,
6 feet under the ground.
Those inflatable arm rings you gave me
That have kept me afloat for so long
Will suddenly deflate and drown me again
With memories of myself before I met you.
All that you tried to do…
To save me…
Will become undone.
Because I remembered who I once was
When I loved that I didn’t need you.