To medicate or not to medicate, that is the question.

Posted: March 19, 2013 in Uncategorized

Over the Christmas and January holidays, I was in a really good mental space.

Tweenie and I went to the Eastern Cape on holiday to her grandparents. They live in a fabulous four bedroomed, multi loo’d riverside home in  Sleepy Hollow. Holiday life there is great. Tweenie as in her element because her cousins were there so she has plenty of adoring cousin attention and willing playmates. 

I am treated like family because I have been part of the furniture for over 15 years. Granddad and Granny are not my parents, they are Tweenie’s dad’s parents. They are the closest I have to a mother and father.

Granny quite likes me. Dare I say loves me.

They’d noticed I’d stopped drinking and I kind of skirted the issue and just said I wasn’t drinking. I didn’t mention AA. While I was in Sleepy Hollow, I did attend an AA meeting and it was a warm and welcoming meeting and I bumped into a woman I used to know when I lived in Sleepy Hollow.

Any-the-hoo, the point is – it was all lurve, happiness, reading novels and visiting all the old granny friends for tea and cake. Not a hiccup in sight.

While I was there, I let it slip to take my medication – which is an anti-depressant daily and an anxiety pill when needed.

All cool as a cucumber. No melt down into a pink puddle of skin. No crazed eyeballs.

I returned to Cape Town in January. With not having much stress or life issues while on holiday. So – hey heck – I thought….let me push the (med) boat out here abit and not bother to take the meds. It’s been three or more weeks thinks I. I’m weaned off them now. Hey – look ma – no hands. I am all OK here me dears.

Nearly two and a bit months later, I proudly declare on Facebook, that I am officially med free.

Mmmmmmmm. Talk about shitting on fate’s shoes. Mistake numero uno.

For the last ten days, I have been waking up with the most horrible feeling of total and utter dread. I have to convince myself that it’s a good idea to go to work. I have to convince myself to show up for life that day. I have been fantasizing about a Kenilworth Clinic stay where I can be just left alone in medicated oblivion with nice crisp white sheets and cluck clucking nurses. I can honestly say that if I did not have a child, I would have just given up. My head was full of the most negative and morbid thoughts. Nothing specific. Just doom and gloom feelings. And I cannot cope, overwhelmed thoughts.

<Porra sms’d me to stop and  bring milk and bread one night and I nearly had a kitten. You know when one last thing just tips you over the edge. I didn’t speak to him for two days!>

In an effort, to give myself a mental kick up the ass, on Sunday I asked Porra to drive us to the beach for coffee and an ice-cream. Being around nature helps me connect with the wonder of life. Makes me feel there is a Big Great Dude that’s got my back.

Well……there were surfers running around, beautiful sea……everyone out and about, seemingly carefree and happy. We even happened upon a smoking zone coffee shop (there is a God) ! The sight of all this happiness made me wonder why didn’t I get it ? Why am I the poo in the drink water ?

I decided I would change my thought patterns for just half an hour and not think crappy stuff. It worked. But not much later on, I felt half suicidal again. Like life was an effort.

My head knows all the stuff I should be grateful for. I really honestly do. I really honestly write a gratitude list everyday.

My head wants me to be happy, but it is like there is a missing highway and my heart and body are crippled by depression. No matter how much shit I try. No matter how much readings about acceptance, this will pass blah dee blah.

There could be lead in my body instead of blood. Such a heavy effort feeling.

I woke up this morning, lit my scented candle (nothing spiritual here people – it’s to throw Porra off the scent that I smoke in the house at 5:30am every morning. Ha ha) and tried to do my suggested readings. Could not focus. Just heaviness and ideas of wanting to bunk work and isolate in bed.

Pray says all the books. I did. 

I had a thought. Perhaps mine. Perhaps a spiritual insight. I don’t think it was my own thought.

“take your medication. you can’t focus on your sobriety”

I humm’d and harr’d for about ten minutes about where the thought  came from. Was it my self-will trying to take the easy route out ? Was it a God given idea ?

I scratched around for some left over meds. Telling myself if I found them, it was a sign.

I found. 

I took.

The anti-depressants won’t kick in for at least 2 weeks worth of taking.

I felt ten times better today. It was not a bad day.

 

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Comments
  1. Kristin says:

    The pharmacist lost my script. So no refills for me! I ran out 2 days ago and I am beginning to freak out a little. Back to the Doc tomorrow!
    It’s all in the head har har har!

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