Have you ever heard someone say they don’t want to use medicine as a crutch? That doesn’t make sense to me anymore. A crutch is a tool that helps with recovery, provides mobility, and protects from further injury.
As soon as my medication is working, I start to think I don’t need that crutch anymore. I don’t know if there’s a name for this phenomenon but I’ve never met anyone immune to it.
Intellectually I know stopping my meds because I’m feeling better is as logical as taking a drink of water and thinking, “Hey, I’m not thirsty anymore. I never need to drink water again.” I’ve pondered on medication resistance for a long time, mostly in the hope that I could cure myself of this bad habit. Here are some thoughts on why I’ve struggled.
Even change for the better scares me.
It’s hard to admit this, but every time I start coming out of a depression, I flinch. Initially, I can’t tell the difference between improvement or the beginnings of mania. So good health can scare me off. It’s out of my comfort zone and I find myself wanting to go back into familiar, more depressed territory.
I’m afraid of becoming addicted
This is something I’ve discussed openly with my doctor. I’ve been prescribed controlled substances and worried about addiction. But for me, even with a family history of addiction, the risk has been worth the benefits.
Side Effects
This is a toughie. Because side effects will happen. Everything about medicine is an investment, mostly a long-term one. But that view does not reduce how discouraging side effects can be. I took an anti-psychotic called Seroquel that made me need to eat all the time. Not want, need. I would buy a dozen doughnuts and eat them while staring at the wall. I was too manic to sit still long enough to watch t.v. so I would literally stare at the wall while eating entire boxes of doughnuts. Not to mention the headaches, nausea, weight gain, constipation, and when some drugs made me more mentally ill than I already was. Like, way more.
It’s holding me back
I do feel differently on medication. I wonder if I’m not my real self while medicated. Without my mood swings, I feel less intense and less creative. I do miss those aspects of myself. But overall, I can tap into my talents and develop my personality more fully with medicine.
I don’t have enough money
I have no money for medicine –> I need medicine to be healthy –> I need to be healthy to work –> I need work to make money –> I’m too sick to work –> I have no money for medicine.
Whenever I’m in line at the pharmacy or drive past a homeless person I think about the cycle listed above. How can people work without medicine? How can they get medicine without a paycheck or insurance? The hard truth is, some of us are too poor to afford care without help.
I feel ashamed
I’ll take medication over what people think every day of the week. I wasn’t always that way. The first time I got medication through Medicaid I felt so ashamed. I knew how much my prescription was going to cost; twelve dollars. I didn’t want to use the Medicaid but I couldn’t get around the fact that I literally did not have twelve dollars. I was unable to work full-time because I was sick. And I couldn’t donate plasma because of my blood pressure medicine. I sat in my car for a long time trying to think of some way around taking my meds. But I knew I couldn’t stay out of the hospital without them. Feeling shaky and near tears, I entered the pharmacy and presented my insurance card. I expected some kind of reaction from the pharmacist, a look of disgust or a muttered comment. The only thing I got was my medicine. That’s exactly how it should be.
I don’t want to ask for help
I used to think that I shouldn’t (such a toxic word) need medicine to help me do everyday things. I should (there it is again) be able to get up in the morning, do the dishes, drive to work, and work with people without taking a pill. I wish I could say that I broke down and started getting serious about meds without being compelled, but I didn’t. I hit rock bottom first. I wish I had taken the initiative before my condition started affecting the people around me.
It hurts my pride
There’s nothing noble about useless suffering. I spent over half my life uselessly suffering. I’d been diagnosed with mental illness for 14 years and bipolar disorder for 7 years before getting serious about treatment. Part of it was that I simply had to get over my aversion to treatment. I don’t want to turn this into an advise column but sometimes there’s no trick or method. You just have to take your medicine.
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