The End Game
February 10, 2016, 11:45 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

My psychiatrist left me a voicemail this week saying that she had some positive feedback and ideas from crowd-sourcing my ridiculous file to her peers–you know, after admitting she was at a total loss with what to do with me last month.

I went in today, with my Tiny Human in tow, and sat on the expensive white leather sofa and watched her click around on her MacBook Pro.

“It’s funny,” she started.

“When I listed off everything that we’ve tried and why it didn’t work, several of my colleagues mentioned that perhaps you didn’t want to be well.”

I felt sick to my stomach.

“I told them,” she continued, “that I don’t have many clients as motivated to be well as you are. That shut them up real quick.”

The rest of the appointment was the usual–trying Wellbutrin to go with my Seroquel to hopefully make me happier, less inclined to gain all of this weight, and less agitated.

However, what stuck with me as I stood in the padded elevator after the appointment was that, even in the company of psychiatrists, there are still neigh-sayers. There are still men and women narrowing their eyes at me in judgement.

I don’t want to get better?

I get it. I know there are people out there that thrive on being sick and needing medical attention constantly–but I guess I’ve always just been so self aware of what is going on with me that I can’t fathom letting myself become my disorders.

I dream of a day where smiling comes regularly, without forced thought. I fantasize about being a more present mother and not relying on my child to ground me to the real and good things in my life.

I may be many things–

I may be a sad, sullen girl. I may be prone to suicidal thoughts and anxiety attacks. I may get hives that cover my body. I may restrict my diet when I feel especially out of control of my feelings. I may be angry.

But, above all of these things, I am a fighter.

I am fighting.

I have been fighting, in the trenches, for years. Just because I do not accept these side effects and adverse conditions brought on by certain medications does not mean I am indifferent to the outcome. I research everything that goes in my body. If I come across a side effect that is severe enough for me to not want to be on it, I double check that it’s actually a medication induced effect.

I may get frustrated at times–there have been two instances where I have thrown a temper tantrum and stopped medication all together. It was and is always a mistake and I go crawling back to the white leather sofa.

I have been living with depression perhaps since middle school. In a way, it is part of my personality–but never, ever have I thought that I would miss being that girl if I finally found the right combination of medications.

My emotions are complex–far more complex than most people see. I am a puzzle, a constellation, a tangle. I know that two years of trying to find the right medication may seem excessive to some people, but I don’t care. I am the one putting my body through this–not for attention, or glory, or validation. I do it because I want to be better.

It’s true that I have found a professional writing voice in my disorders. I hold my banners high for those suffering to flock to. I tell my story because I want others to know that it’s not always a one and done deal. You don’t deserve to suffer through medication because it only kind of makes you feel better. You wouldn’t marry someone who only sort of made you feel good. Why put something in your body that you don’t hold to the same standard?

I deserve to feel better, and

much more importantly,

I eagerly await that day when I do.


2 Comments so far
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Yes, yes, yes. I had someone say this to me once. I wish that person could see me now. Keep on fighting, friend. You got this.

Comment by Jenna Hatfield

I came across your blog this morning as I sat awake next to my sleeping baby , his father and my toddler …;feeling like a failure because I didn’t have a good day yesterday, I let my stress and anxiety pour all over my kids and even then my 3 year old told me how much he loved me before finally going to bed at 1am …I still feel guilty for all i yelling he really didn’t deserve …anyways as I was reading your posts I began to say to myself .. Omg yes another mama who goes through some of the similar things I do. I’m with you on the medications and researching and not settling for any . You are right , we must fight , it is our lives , our bodies , our families , our happiness ultimately that we are fighting for so don’t give up. You are an inspiration and know that this morning you inspired me to continue this fight until it’s not a fight anymore , until that day comes when we’ll be able to feel “normal” again .. 😉

Comment by Liz T.

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