On Medication.

If I were to list all of the medications I have been on during the 14 years I have taken them, the list would read like a comprehensive glossary of psychotropic medications.

You name it; I’ve likely been on it.

I’ve had good experiences with medications, and I’ve had bad experiences with medications.

Truth be told,

I hate being on meds.

Last week I called my psychiatrist to have my medication upped.

I could feel my mind running away from me, becoming a beast I could no longer tame and I knew I needed help.

I don’t want to need help.

I hate this illness.

I hate that I can be walking around, feeling completely “normal,” whatever the hell that is and get bitch-slapped across the face with an episode.  A reminder that “normal” is something you will never be.


Things have been harder the past few weeks, and that got me thinking about spoon theory.  Some of you are familiar with his theory I’m sure, but many of you are not, if you are not, read this.

I have an ebbing and flowing tide of spoons.  Sometimes I have a pretty standard amount of spoons.  Sometimes my spoon supply runs out.  Sometimes I use ALL the spoons at once, and then don’t have anymore spoons. 

I am low on spoons right now.  I can make it through work fine, and if it’s an uneventful day, I still have spoons when I get home and can have a good evening without breaking down.  If we are busy all day and the espresso machine breaks and we can’t get cleaning done because we’re backed up because the espresso machine is broken, and then after work I have to go to the DMV, I don’t have any spoons left.

Medication is like a back up reservoir of spoons.  Sometimes they take forEVER to ship (still waiting on this dosage change to take effect. . .), but they make it easier.  They give you a couple of extra spoons every day.

I hate that I need medication. ( have I mentioned that?)

But I need medication.


I am hurting because this illness makes me hurt.

I am hurting because I am proud of the work I have put in to get from where I was to where I am.

I am hurting because I was working on going off medication (with the help of my doctor, NOT on my own.  I know that’s foolish) and now my dosage is being upped, and there will likely be more changes on the 12th when I see my doctor again.


But I know being on medication, or having to up my medication does NOT mean I have failed.

Or at least I kind of know it.  I know it enough to remind myself that this is not some failure on my account, but rather a part of an illness which will be with me for the rest of my life barring medical miracle.

I am not a failure for needing meds.

You are not a failure for needing meds.

Whether it is a short term, “tide you over until you work through some shit” thing.

Whether it is a long term, “I will be on these or some other medications my whole life” thing.

Medication is not failure.

Medication is not shameful.

Medication is self care.

Medication is self love.

Loving yourself is hard.

Love yourself anyway.