This is my religion.
I am at their mercy
They are my Gods
Whenever I am reminded how much three little pills balance out my life, I think of those cigarette ads. The ones where they show how people’s lives are controlled and built around when they have a nicotine craving. That is me with my medicine. I time my evening activities around my medication. They make me sleepy and I have to take them early so I don’t wake up feeling out of sorts.
A Master’s degree program.
Worship my medication.
A meticulous, exhausting, necessary routine.
It is worth it. Worth every moment that I have to cut my day short to ensure that I don’t absolutely wreck my life in the name of a late-night Netflix binge. Worth maintaining a healthy relationship with my family. Worth not losing a career I worked so hard to build. I think we should raise a glass in honor of the battle we fought to find our Gods.
The trial and error of medications.
Finding the perfect antidote to our mania, depression, suicidal ideations, and emotional rollercoasters.
The HORRIBLE side effects.
The painful testimony leading up to the diagnosis.
I despise being thrown into the love/hate relationship I have with these three little pills, but they saved my life. They saved my life in so many ways. I hate that we are in a not so exclusive but exclusive club where so many people have to relate to what we all go through.
You know what I love though?
I love that we are all here to complain about the medications and the journey that led us here. I love that we survived what surely was out to get us.
You aren’t weak or taking the easy way out. You aren’t using medication to numb the pain. You are taking control. WE are taking control.
I am so happy we are all here.