Side Effects and Side Affects

 On top of symptoms, there’s also side effects if you want them. Do you medicate for your illness? I do. Believe it or not, sometimes I regret it.  

Forty extra pounds, cotton mouth, constipation, nausea, lethargy, mood swings, voices, dry eyes… you name it, I’ve had it. Look up Akathisia, if it doesn’t sound horrible, it is. I take two antipsychotics; one will occasionally cause my skin to burn, and the other has a listed side effect of, I kid you not, falling down. And I do. 

I’ve sometimes wondered if all that work is worth it. Should I suffer for the sake of getting healthier when there’s no guarantee? Should you? With zeal I used to say that you should. Recently I’ve questioned whether that’s appropriate. Perhaps because medicating is a personal decision. 

So why do I choose to suffer for the sake of getting healthier? The longer I’ve been sick, especially as it’s worsened in the last decade, I’ve observed how hard my disease has been on other people. As well as my own behavior. When I suffer, they are sad. When I disappear, they are hurt. 

I’ve come to believe that I am responsible for medicating because of how it affects my loved ones. They have expressed their gratitude to me for bearing the weight of medication. Yes, it’s painful and uncomfortable, but I am more mentally healthy because of it. It’s a lot for them to ask and they know it, even if they don’t fully understand.  

So, I continue to swallow ten pills every day. I numb myself in a carefully controlled way. I artificially adjust my moods. I dislike the resistance of the transitions throughout the day. I miss the intensity of my highs and creative moods.  

Ultimately however, those sacrifices are worth it because they benefit not only me, but also the people I love. 

Are the Meds Working Yet?

It’s late. I know because my roommate is asleep. I’m lying on my back with the covers in my hands and under my chin. I’m not even tired yet. It’ll be about 2 am before that starts. These are the hours for my mind to wander. 

My thoughts are introspective tonight, and they are not kind. “Am I a monster? Do I even care about people? I never feel anything when my friends struggle. Am I capable of loving anyone?” 

Thoughts like this swirl around until I turn to actual memories. I start with my still-current friends from elementary school, junior high, high school, and all the way to the present moment. One memory from the 7th grade is standing out. A classmate had given me a plastic valentine heart with a drawing done from an anime we both liked and had bonded over. Her version of Goku from DragonballZ was flawless and still in my keepsake box. 

I’m thinking about the drawing and all of a sudden, my chest starts to feel warm and it’s like I can feel the outline of my own heart for the first time. I start to cry and for some reason connect what’s happening to the mood stabilizer I’ve been taking daily for the last two months. It’s the first medication I’ve ever taken for Bi-Polar Disorder. But I’m not crying because my meds are working, I’m crying because now I know I’m not a monster. Now I know for sure that I truly love my friends.