Finding the Words

It’s been five weeks since … I still don’t have a label for it. It just is.

Well I guess I could say “my old wounds got torn open, setting me back a year or two in my recovery to how I felt and functioned about 18-24+ months ago.” (‘Recovery’ – to the degree to which I find that term relevant – isn’t a unidirectional, continuously-getting-better process. It’s complicated and messy and all over the place. So this can’t be a setback, just an unexpected and more-difficult-than-anticipated part of the journey. Perhaps a necessary part? It’s certainly reminded me of how vulnerable I am – but also how resilient I am.)

I’m inclined to say “that’s a bit melodramatic” but, well, it’s my truth. Coming back from that hasn’t been easy. For a while I took a break from activism, particularly the being-a-leader-in-a-grassroots-organization stuff. I’ve been getting back into it, almost to the point where I feel like I’m “pulling my weight” again – putting in effective work commensurate with the roles I have. But I’m also addicted to Terraria, my apartment is as messy as ever (what an understatement!), and my relationship with Fox … let’s just say both my therapists seem to agree it should be my primary focus. And one basically suggested he should quit his job so he’ll have energy to put into our relationship.

It’s been about 3.5 weeks since I visited Ron in the hospital and 2.5 weeks since ze was released. Ze lost zir job and couldn’t go back to zir parents’ house because their terms were unreasonable to the point of being unhealthy, so ze is currently homeless. People are doing what they can to help and ze says ze feels better. Ze seems better too – most of the time. Sometimes zir “speech seems pressured” but it’s usually connected to particular topics, and it’s possible to move the conversation elsewhere. Ze listens to me.

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I forgot to refill my prescriptions until I ran out – of course on the day I was running late and had to rush out the door. I tried to put in the refill request for the clonazepam first, but was unsuccessful; somehow my prescriptions got de-synchronized so I was out of refills with that Rx number and I didn’t have the new one to put in. I was in crazy anxiety rush mode, so I didn’t try refilling the lamotrigine – even though it had 2 more refills with that Rx number.

I asked Fox to go to the pharmacy for me and he did, because he’s wonderful. He said (they said) they didn’t have anything in the system for me. I was tabling at a pride event and he had to leave for work and it was Sunday, so there wasn’t really any opportunity to follow through on anything.

On Monday I realized I should’ve tried to refill the lamotrigine, better to have one of my meds than neither, right? That was no problem, but I had to speak to a pharmacy representative to deal with the clonazepam. The person I talked to at the pharmacy had an irritating tone to her voice and was too nonchalant, like there was no problem with them not having the information necessary to make sure I have access to a medication that keeps me alive. She didn’t even try to be polite like saying ‘sorry’ – but she did offer to fax my prescriber. And she explained that the clonazepam prescription had expired because it’s a controlled substance, so it has to be filled within 30 days.

I walked to the pharmacy with my inner voices screaming, an irritable mess, barely holding myself together. By the time I got the lamotrigine my ears were ringing and my eyes were so full of static everything was in a darkened haze and I couldn’t think straight and everything felt completely WRONG. That was after missing one dose – and it’s not even that high a dose. I took the dose – better to at least take one of my meds, right? and everything cleared within minutes. The difference was noticeable to Ron over the phone.

I had to play phone tag with my prescriber for a couple days, but I was able to refill the clonazepam today. I didn’t notice as much as an effect when I took it, except that maybe I’m a bit calmer? And I was rather sleepy, I attributed it to waking early from a bad dream, but the medication is known to make people drowsy. Ron seemed surprised I’m able to function at all taking [my dose] of it every day.

To be honest, between what ze’s been telling me about it and what I’ve read online, I’m a bit wary about staying on the clonazepam. Apparently it’s habit forming and it’s better not to take it for extended periods of time. But my prescriber added it for a reason – I think because even with my mood stabilized I was still struggling with anxiety. And I don’t know if I wrote about this yet, but my prescriber is retiring, so I need to find a new one within the next month or two. I’d rather not change my meds until I’ve developed a good rapport with the new prescriber.

So, yay, I’m back on my meds! I anticipate that going a day without lamotrigine and two days without clonazepam will have thrown my levels off; it might take a while for them to get back to normal. And I’m a bit shaken by how profound my (withdrawal?) symptoms were before I took the lamotrigine. I’d come to accept that I’ll probably be taking these medications for the rest of my life, and I’d rather do so consistently than risk going back to how things were before I started taking them. Still, this was a rough reminder of how dependent I am.

No Stigma, No Shame, More Happiness

I saw this on Facebook and wanted to share it. As someone who both wears glasses and takes medication to keep my brain from trying to kill me, I feel it is an excellent analogy:

FB_IMG_1496322585743

The text reads:

“I wear glasses. Can I manage without glasses? Well, yes, probably. I could squint a lot, constantly move up close to anything I want to see, take the bus or a taxi if I want to go anywhere. I could just accept that I’ll never be able to see eagles flying in the sky or whales jumping out of the ocean.

But why? Why try so hard to manage life when I could just put on a pair of glasses? No one would ever suggest a near-sighted person should just work harder. No one would say ‘Maybe that’s just your normal’ to someone who needs glasses. They would say ‘Let’s go to the eye doctor and get you a prescription so you’re able to see again.’ You shouldn’t have to try so hard.”

– My doctor (paraphrased), when I expressed doubts about going back on an anti-depressant. (via webreakthenwebuild)

(via squidilydink)

This is such a good analogy because nobody thinks about it like this. If you wear glasses, you literally need constant use of a medical aid to experience the world like most people do. If it were anything besides glasses, that would be considered a disability. But needing glasses is an extremely common, visible, and accepted form of disability to the point that we don’t even consider it one, we just accept that some people need glasses and that’s perfectly normal and there’s nothing wrong with needing to rely on them.

That is how all disabilities and illnesses should be seen, and how we should look at treatment for them. You have a problem, and you need help dealing with it, and there’s nothing wrong with either of those things. That’s perfectly normal and that’s okay.

(via ninjarobotclone)

And there are a couple more lines but forgive me I don’t feel like typing them out. The important parts are quoted above.

Putting aside the issues of for-profit pharmaceutical companies, our limited understanding of how certain drugs affect the brain, abuses in the mental illness management system, and that our society is so fucked up at least a quarter of us meet the criteria for mental health diagnoses while the rest are just plain miserable …

While we work on fixing that stuff: some of us need medication (and/or therapy) to function, just like some of us need glasses to see, and that’s okay. There should be no stigma associated with it, no shame in engaging in treatment, etc. When I finally get around to acquiring my next pair of glasses, I look forward to picking out frames I like and feel confident wearing. Similarly, it feels really good to own the work I’m doing in therapy and the medications I take: to be honest and unapologetic about what I need to not only live but (dare I say it?) thrive. It’s part of who I am, similar to how my glasses are part of my style (or look, hehe).

Of course I’m fortunate in that I have access to the care I need and communities where talking about one’s therapist, medication, and/or mental health is … if not normal, at least accepted. It’s understood that we’re all people and we all have our issues, we all struggle sometimes and we all need support. That shouldn’t be a matter of me being fortunate, though, it should be normal – like how acceptance of people wearing glasses is normal now, where once wearing glasses was stigmatized.

Learn more about being stigma free, and take the pledge.

Solidarity.