Corporate Peon: Jagged Little Pill

Monday, August 01, 2005

Jagged Little Pill

(Pardon me if you already know this part - after a year, I forget what I've said and what I haven't.)

Almost immediately after Ex dumped me, I took myself off my anti-depressants. I think my reasoning was thus: I felt that being on meds would prevent me from really feeling the loss. I wanted to feel it, I wanted to hurt, and I wasn't sure I could on the pills.

I also knew it would make me feel worse than just the breakup, and I think I wanted him to see that. I wanted him to know I was miserable and to feel he was the sole cause.

Third, I went on meds after a lot of support from Ex. Going off of them was a quick way I could sever ties - sure, he could dump me for someone else, but I could go off pills: "You're not the only one to hurt me, I'm capable of doing it myself." Also, I could 'show him' - not really, but in my eyes - that he helped get me to a figurative place where I could deal with shit, and without him, fuck that - I wasn't going to help myself at all.

Yes. Very petty. Very spiteful. Very juvenile, hurtful, self-destructive, and painful.

I went through, I think, a full year of misery. Twelve calendar months of being off anti-depressants after two years of being on them. I was in hell, and it was all tied to him. All tied to losing him.

Yes, I knew that after a time, my misery wasn't caused by him. I knew that I needed to go back on my meds. But I couldn't bring myself to take that step again, knowing I was doing it solo.

I sucked things up, somehow, and went back to my doctor. The problem with me is that I function extremely well in public. My doctor re-prescribed my meds but I felt like a phony. I felt as if I wasn't opening up to her, that I wasn't telling her what was going on in my head, that I wasn't letting on to the crazy shit in my head.

Because, of course, I wasn't.

Partly due to my composure with the doctor, and partly due to my own sense of pride, my visits were only once every three months - just in time for a new prescription. As a result, my doctor didn't see me enough to 'know' me - or, I felt, even remember me.

At one visit, I was unable to schedule the next appointment, for reasons I don't remember. I haven't been back since.

Which, of course, correlates to the fact that I haven't been on anti-depressants since. It's been a number of months now - maybe this entire year? I honestly don't know. It's been much easier the past few months though - fewer lows, and when they do hit, they aren't as low as they used to be. I refuse to think it's due to endorphins from running, since that would mean I should keep it up.

Even when it's good, it's never easy. I'm constantly on the lookout for the next low; I'm constantly fighting it. It's not enough to know that it's been easier - better - lately, but it's something.

Powered by Blogger