Medication has always been a curse word in my book. I don’t want to see it, I don’t want to hear about it, and I definitely don’t want to take it.
As someone diagnosed with bipolar 1, they say it’s a life sentence for medication, and that really gets under my skin.
Why is it my curse to take f%$#ing pills every day for the rest of my life?
It makes me want to scream bloody murder, and I know I’m not the only one who feels cursed by medication. I mean, I had a rough road getting to the few pills I take now. At one point, my routine included getting a shot instead. At other points, I had up to 12 different pills for this or that or whatever, and I truly felt like I was swimming in pills.
People medicate all kinds of ways. With drugs, with alcohol, my poison just happens to be legal and mandatory.
I’ve had pills that made me want to take even more pills to end it all…
But oddly enough, medication has also saved my life.
If it weren’t for the pills I take now, I know I’d be pregnant, incarcerated, institutionalized, or dead. That’s how powerful these meds are. It scares me to think I’m chained to them for the rest of my life, but it also scares me to imagine my life without them.
So I sigh, and try to remember, it’s for the best.
These pills can either be the death or life of me. It is my choice, and right now, I choose life.
Arishama
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