I woke up at 7 am today instead of 8:30. Hubby and baby are still asleep. Something has been bothering me since last night and I can not put my finger on it. Something is sad and I don’t know what it is. May be it is just my depression taking a turn. It is not like I am severely depressed. For me depression is slow dripping. Like coffee slowly drips into the carafe, depression is somehow slowly dripping in my soul. It is not full blown.
My doctor changed my medicine two days back. Now I am taking 2 SNRIs in the morning and afternoon. The side effects include shaking and trembling, which are worse for me. By the time one tablet’s side effect go away, it’s time for the other one. After spending the whole day shaking, I was quite depressed. It was like somehow the intense hope I always had in me, was vanishing.
As I was sitting with my husband on the couch watching TV, I realized that this is my life. I am always going to be on medicine. They might be less, they might be more but I will be needing them to function normally. The struggle is going to be harder and harder. I am not going to leave the treatment but I am ready to spend my days with side effect of medicines.
I know that side effects go away with time. I also know that for some, medicines free time comes as well. But how do I know for sure when will it be my time? Will I ever be able to get off these meds? What if I do get off medicines I one day might go into relapse.
With a wandering mind I went to bed. I couldn’t help but cry. I cried like a small baby. I for the first time realized that I was sick. No matter how much I tried to stay positive, I was a person who need medication just to function. Is that not sick? Ever since my diagnosis I have been telling myself it is a good thing that I got diagnosed. As the medicines increase my feeling of being in a “mental illness” is also increasing.
I have been reading a study these days done at “Oxford University” that mentally ill people have shorter life expectancy (10 to 20 years) than smokers. I know it is a study and I am not sure if it is entirely true. I just wonder even if we have a longer or a normal life span, what sort of life would be? The constant fight! A struggle to be okay. A life in which we need a bunch of medicines just to call it a day. A life where our relationship are depenedent upon the way our brain decides to work and not what our heart wants. All of a sudden climbing high up on the top of a mountain and falling down with a full force.
For the end, I have nothing to write. Nothing to say. What I can hear in my head after writing all of this is a deep long silence.
Struggles of a Bipolar Woman 