That time of night

You remember “Sorting my pills” my mental illness epic. If you are a good little mental health patient, no doubt you have a menagerie of pills to take every morning and night. (I love the word menagerie.) My husband had a crush on a girl, and she called it her, “happy salad.” Honestly, I thought that was stupid, but he didn’t. If you laughed, I won’t hold it against you.

As of today I declared myself sick of it. I take a drug, that I won’t name, to help with the nausea. Often I take the pills only to vomit them back up. This is especially true of the vitamins, I just puke them. For two years I took them with water. That was miserable but I was in love with my medication. I hadn’t been okay forever. It was the fifth grade that brought me my first manic episode. I’ve talked about it before so I won’t get into it too much now, but I think I speak the truth when I sat I hadn’t had much peace since then. Ups and downs, mostly downs, I was able to function at a good level. I was tortured. Even the manic phases that some of us manic depressives love came mixed with deep depressions. At the end I was so depressed I could not function. At night, my brains suggested different ways to kill my daughter. During the day I could do nothing more than sleep, leaving that same, eighteen month daughter untended. It was the worse part of my life, so far.

But medicine saved us. I was in the hospital sitting at the nurses station and during the time of night when the thoughts rushed it, they came just the same, except they slowed down and stopped. Years before when I was evaluated I was encouraged to see a psychiatrist and take medicine and I was adamant that I would not do so. Just a few years later it saved my life. I am a bit of a pusher, now. I recommend and de-recommend psychiatrists, and know a lot about anti-depressants and mood stabilizers.

To be honest with you, I am getting to resent all these pills. I resent all the colors and shapes. I hate sorting them and cutting them in half. This has always slightly annoyed me but in the last few months the irritation has gotten worse. Then there is the flavor. I’ve tried taking them with juice, which is way better than water, but it still tastes very bad and filling my mouth with juice, popping in the pills and trying to swallow all that at once sometimes leads to choking. It’s still the best method I’ve found, yet. I had a friend who brushed her hair so she would have positive associations having to do with her meds time. If I were to do that, and I’ve tried that kind of thing before, I would not have a positive association with the pills, but would gain a negative associate to the positive things. I would look at the hair brush and feel like I was going to throw up.

I know pills work for me. I have had weeks, even months of feeling good. That is not something that happened before I got on meds. A lot of psychiatric patients remember fondly the days before they were on medication. I do not delude myself. Usually it is a suicide attempt that brings them in to the hospital. They remember, inaccurately, that they were doing just fine before. “You must mean aside from the suicide attempt, right?”


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