Lady of Longbourn
VIP Member
I struggle with this even though I know how much my medication helps me. I know how my medication has been a great tool so I can have a stable life, do something outside mental illness and to be able to attend college. I love college.
I know all this. I know what I was like before medication. I remember the hospital trips, the vague memories, the inappropriate thoughts and actions and the rapidly deteriorating mind. And yet I still wont always swallow (all and/or some; it various) my pills every night. They have been pretty much the same for years, kept me out of the hospital and away from month(s) long depressions and hypomania episodes. For the first time in my memory I was not depressed for weeks and weeks this past winter and fall.
My therapist says this is very common for people with Bipolar Disorder and today I am caught myself thinking about how much fun it would be to just have fun; to be manic and how creative I could be. I decided to be rational and told myself that being manic doesn't mean fun at all. More then likely it wont mean fun; Jail, hospital, no college, divorce. Which would mean worse PTSD and anxiety and everything else. Why do that to myself?
Why do I put myself through this? Neglect? Angry at myself? Angry at the medication (it did cause weight gain)?
It can not continue like this. Medication to me has been a life line and it turned my life around. I know it's not for everyone. It doesn't work out for everyone, but it works for me. I would not be able to have a life without it.
Thoughts?
I know all this. I know what I was like before medication. I remember the hospital trips, the vague memories, the inappropriate thoughts and actions and the rapidly deteriorating mind. And yet I still wont always swallow (all and/or some; it various) my pills every night. They have been pretty much the same for years, kept me out of the hospital and away from month(s) long depressions and hypomania episodes. For the first time in my memory I was not depressed for weeks and weeks this past winter and fall.
My therapist says this is very common for people with Bipolar Disorder and today I am caught myself thinking about how much fun it would be to just have fun; to be manic and how creative I could be. I decided to be rational and told myself that being manic doesn't mean fun at all. More then likely it wont mean fun; Jail, hospital, no college, divorce. Which would mean worse PTSD and anxiety and everything else. Why do that to myself?
Why do I put myself through this? Neglect? Angry at myself? Angry at the medication (it did cause weight gain)?
It can not continue like this. Medication to me has been a life line and it turned my life around. I know it's not for everyone. It doesn't work out for everyone, but it works for me. I would not be able to have a life without it.
Thoughts?