I Will Keep Existing

I am no stranger to writing about mental illness-my mental illness, my thoughts on mental illness, blunt and honest, as real as I can be. So here we are again, as I blog seeking catharsis. I have found very rare moments in my life where I feel "normal" and/or "balanced" mentally, physically, emotionally etc... these moments always seem to be fleeting and related directly to a careful balance of medications. I have no shame in my daily cocktail of psychiatric stabilizers that make me the kind of human being that other people don't mind being around and that make me feel like I can function at a satisfying level-actually I kind of love them. I love that modern medicine and science have made ways to improve my quality of life and keep me from losing my bananas for no reason in the middle of the grocery store. Science rocks. But what happens when for one reason or another I cannot continue my amazingly perfect routine of immaculately balanced medications? What happens when, in fact, I have to stop them all together and rather quickly? In the past, I have done this and gone through addict-like withdrawals. Raging and screaming, my body painfully detoxing antidepressants as I huddled in bed for days or weeks crying, sweating, and throwing up from the shock to my system. This was an experience I quickly learned from and with the help of some amazing medical professionals have never had to experience again. But, even titrating safely off of psychiatric medications has consequences. Although my body isn't physically reaping the repercussions, mentally and emotionally I am left with only fragments of what I had built as a standard of normal functionality. Where I once was industrious and productive, I am left sluggish and inefficient. Often distracted and easily confused, and definitely impatient with myself and those around me. I am reintroduced to the cloud of anxiety that overcrowds my every thought and decision as well as the accompanying guilt that is always just one step behind each move I make. Of course I am now afforded much more room to experience highs, damning impulse control but these moments are always fleeting and undoubtedly leave me feeling worried that I may have taken a misstep. Most of the time I feel as if I am swimming through molasses trying to get somewhere that I can see but never quite reaching my destination. Always sidetracked by anxiety, worry, guilt, self doubt, and lack of determination. Suddenly a friend's casual remark becomes suspicious and my day is ruined worrying that maybe she never really liked me anyways. But none of it is logical. And this is the battle to no end-the raging war between logic and emotion. Where the two could once coincide peacefully, they are now meant to battle it out in my soul until usually emotion wins guns blazing. It is utterly exhausting. To know with every thought in your brain that you are being unreasonable, but still break down with every feeling in your heart. So I wait. I wait to achieve a new state of "normal". I wait to learn to function again. I wait to react when I know I am being irrational. And I wait to one day just be okay with who I am and the challenges I face. So while I wait, I will keep fighting. I will keep myself and my son fed, safe, and alive. I will feed Nilla wafers from my spot on the couch. I will take three naps a day. I will try not to end any friendships. I will do my best to keep being a good person. I will probably let lots of people down. I will eat ice cream. I will love my son and my husband with everything I have. I will not clean up the toys every day. I will let my husband do the dishes, and the laundry, and give the baby a bath. I will spend too many hours watching netflix. I will not wear makeup, or probably pants unless really necessary.  But I will not give up hope. I will keep existing.