Pharmacological Straightjacket

I already drank tea with valerian and took a valerian capsule with my nightly meds, so I probably don't have long to write before it become incoherent or incomplete. Anyhow, a lot of thoughts have been banging around this ol' noggin, as they often do, but a large sum of them have been related to my desire to get off meds. This isn't exactly a novel idea for me, or anyone with a disorder of the mind, but it's for somewhat different reasons than most people have when deciding to go off their meds. Typically, people go off their meds (particularly around my current age) because they're "feeling better," and they think that they're "cured"; this essentially is never the case, and they simply get all of their symptoms back. Now, me on the other hand, I don't want to get off of my meds because I'm feeling better, but rather because I can't stand how I feel now, and I actually desire my symptoms to return in full effect. Since I got on meds, I haven't been able to concentrate one tiny bit, my memory has diminished drastically, my senses and emotions have been dulled, my mental capabilities have become nearly moot, my anxieties have skyrocketed, and the list goes on.

So, what happens if I go off my meds? Well, I have absolutely no idea. It's been probably in the ballpark of 5-6 years since I first got on meds, and I can't hardly recall what it was like before them. I can, however, recall quite vividly how I felt and what I thought the days immediately after getting on meds for the first time, and they weren't exactly positive. Over time, I simply got used to the meds, as I was certain I would, and forgot what it was like to be a total nut job (okay, I suppose I always clung to that quality at least a little, even on meds.) Well, like a person who had amnesia, essentially became a different person, and then started to get their memory back, I started to have a more and more lacking desire for this new life and wanted to just get back into the old habits, feelings... symptoms. This drab half-crazy stuff just never really worked for me. My brain certainly needed a good rest from the psychoses and major moods, but I've had plenty of rest and relaxation (but, like the panicky mom who thinks she left the toaster on as she drives away from the house to go on vacation, and then quickly turns around and MUST check to see that the house hasn't burned down, my anxieties started to get the better of me.)

My brain simply cannot stand being virtually inactive, even though I can't bear not giving my brain well needed rests. Essentially, despite my best efforts, my brain is always going to be over-active and impossible to keep up with. Even while I'm sedated, my brain is constantly, unbearably active (albeit I can't maintain the same thought for more than a few seconds.) Before I was on meds, my brain was constantly exercised and active, and somewhat allowed to run free. This was both good and bad because freedom can often lead to lack of restraint, which in turns leads to extremes and disasters. I had my share of them, but a lot of people have made the argument throughout the ages that freedom is worth even the most unrestrained, uncontrolled individuals and minds. Sure, mental or physical shackles can keep things in order and from 'running away from you,' so to speak, but who wants to be in shackles of either sort? My meds have shackled me, and I finally decided that I'd rather be free and have the risk than to be imprisoned by some false sense of stability.

So, what would happen if I go off my meds? That's the million dollar question, I suppose. It's been so long, I really couldn't say. It has felt as though my disorder had been chopped up, and like it could never be whole again regardless of if I were on meds or not. I suppose it's especially hard to predict whether my psychotic symptoms would resurface or not since, unlike the mood symptoms, I've had essentially no psychotic symptoms whatsoever. The day that I admitted myself to the adolescent psych ward, my mind was filled with the chatter of the entirety of the streets of New York, it seemed, whereas the day after (after having gotten on meds), it seemed extremely quiet. I've never once described that crowded feeling since getting on meds, nor described hallucinations of any type, nor delusions... I may still have some paranoia from time to time, but not usually clinically significant. Perhaps these things would all come back, perhaps not. Whether or not they would would actually answer many questions I've had for years. Also, going of meds would make my symptoms less muddled and easier to compare to those of the disorders I seem to have (or perhaps that I haven't even been diagnosed with!) It's hard to justify any 'symptoms' as being that when my meds neutralise and dull those symptoms. When I say I'm hypomanic, it's hard to justify that diagnostically because it's very toned down from what it would be off meds. I've had glimpses into what my moods would be like off meds, but never what my psychotic symptoms would be like, should I be able to get them back.

I think that it's because of my meds dulling my disorders that I actually doubt that anything is truly wrong with me for at least a brief moment almost every day! I'd think to myself, "Are these symptoms real, or am I just fooling myself?" Now, if I was, in fact, fooling myself, then that would be such a grand delusion, one for the long-haul, that in itself would have to be some kind of disorder... So, after thinking about that, it usually occurs to me that the paradox simply made my worries null and void. This also happens with multiple specific issues, but the thoughts and anxieties usually inadvertently prove that what I've known for years is true, and my worries are rooted in fallacy. Another thing that seems to cause misleading symptoms, or lack thereof, is how I avoid uncomfortable things and situations at all costs, and by avoiding those things, I appear more 'stable.' Deny my avoidance, however, and make me face what I avoid, and I'd appear to be far, far from stable. I've learned that I can't even bear watching people in high up places on T.V.! My heart starts to race, I cringe, and I begin having difficulty breathing just because someone on the T.V., usually a fictional character, is shown as being high up somewhere. If I have such a bad reaction from something so distant, how would you think I'd handle the real situation? If I'm anywhere near cobwebs somewhere in the house, I adamantly object to going anywhere near that area, and when a bee (not a bumblebee, but the misnomer relating to wasps and yellow jackets) whizzes by me, regardless of if I did any harm to me, I'll be adamant about not going outside for at least a week, and don't even want doors to the outside to be opened! My issues are there, I've just done so much to bury them or avoid them that I've created this illusion that the issues aren't there.

The day that I learn to drive, finish school, get a girlfriend, a job, or married, that I can be at least semi-decently comfortable in public places, can stand to shake hands or touch doorknobs and other public surfaces, that I can spend even a single minute without some sort of worry or anxiety, that I can practice self-discipline and healthy habits, that I can form social relationships and sustain them, and much more... well, the day that any of that happens will be a day far, far from now. If someone didn't see me as disabled, disordered, or at least some kind of ill, then they're utterly blind. Some moments of some days, I'm the blind one, but other days, it's someone around me. How could anything ever get solved if I'm constantly told, whether through implications, insinuation, or blatantly, that I'm healthy enough to take charge of my life and control my life, at least at this point. I've known certain people to essentially deny there are any real issues with me and that I essentially need to pick myself up by my bootstraps and get on with my life, and those people are simply awful, inconsiderate people. None of this is to say that I've totally given up and that I don't aim to make something of my life; it's just that you wouldn't deny someone having a broken bone and send them on their way if their bone is, in fact, broken and in need of being treated. Mental illness is just much, much more complicated and typically has a wider range of possible treatments. Meds may be for some, but not for others...

Either I can't succeed in life because my disorders are overwhelming, or I can't succeed in life because I practically subdued myself in a pharmacological straightjacket - those are the two likely demises I might face. I'd rather find my life in ruin because my mind was free instead of because I willingly sapped myself of my potential. I just know that the med-induced failure would be utterly inevitable, whereas I at least have a chance for success if I set my mind free. The odds are against me no matter what, and it'd always be easier to give up, but I do actually want to give success a shot, whether or not it's a gamble.