A Month With No Medication
I quit taking my medicine for depression about a month ago without being advised to do so by my psychiatrist. (I don’t advise you to do that, by the way!) I was told that the kind that I was on can stay in your system for about a month though. Well it has been a month. I don’t know if I have noticed a huge difference. I felt like I have had good and bad days on the medicine and without it. One thing I am noticing is my urge to restrict food seems to have increased. I still have been eating, but it has been more of a battle.
I want to be sneaky and secretive. I don’t want to talk to people that I normally do about it because then I am afraid they will try to make me eat more, and I don’t need to. At least I don’t think I do. At this point, I am still eating when I am hungry, but I really want to lose weight. Right now it is really difficult. I do see diet culture everywhere and lots of people talking about getting their body ready for summer, and it is hard. I feel like I need to change my body too. Maybe I gained too much weight? Maybe I have too much food freedom? Maybe I need to have more will-power? Ugh. Everything I have worked for feels stuck.
I went to my psychiatrist yesterday and told her the news that I had stopped taking my medicine. I didn’t want to talk about anything. The meeting just seemed off. She could tell I was on the verge of tears, but I just told her I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to ball in front of her. I knew it was not going to be a couple tears. It was going to be the opening of floodgates, and I didn’t want to be embarrassed. It was like I didn’t want help even if that is what I know I needed. Why do we do this? Why do we turn down the help that is right in front of us? Why is being skinny more important than being happy? Why do we try to hide everything and all those deep feelings.
I Never Wanted To Take Medicine
I never liked the idea of taking medicine in the first place, and I hate having to deal with making sure it is refilled and having to go get it. It was a fight for me to start taking it, and then later on increasing it. Everything was a battle. Yesterday, my psychiatrist let me know that she can’t make me take it. She just tried to encourage me to. Then she sent me on my way and told me to call if I needed anything.
She probably wondered why I even went. It was really a pointless appointment. I had made up in my mind before I even went that I wasn’t going to open up. I wanted to actually cancel, but I never called, and my husband and my friend told me I needed to go and tell her that I had quit. Well my stubborn ways said to them… you can tell me to go and I will, but you can’t make me get anything out of it. I don’t think I really did. All I ended up doing was crying in my car after the appointment.
I Am Not A Good Actress
When I talked to my husband after the appointment, I was trying to seem all cool like everything went fine, but he could see right through me. He could tell I was off, but I still didn’t want to talk about my insecurities and self hate at the moment. He tried to get me to talk about it, but I kept avoiding and bottling it up.
Climbing Out of the Ruts
I don’t know if I will go back on medicine soon. I don’t know how long I will keep feeling stuck either. I don’t know when I will try to get help if I really need it. I just want you to know that I have come a long way, but I still struggle. I can make it sound like I have everything figured out sometimes, but I don’t. A lot of the social media posts that I do are reminders to myself of things I need to hear over and over again. They are mostly my wins and not my losses. This is to let you know that sometimes the mental illness wins. We just have to pick ourselves back up and keep fighting. It may not be right away, it may take a little while. Sometimes, we fall in a little rut, and sometimes, we fall in a big one, but that doesn’t mean we won’t climb our way out.