Monday, May 14, 2012
I've been thinking. Twenty different pills in three years is a lot of pills. Some of these pills gave me a good four weeks and then I go back to where I started, only it's usually worse. Much worse. Four weeks is not a lot of time and quite frankly, I'm ready to throw in the towel.
I go to my psychiatrist on Wednesday, Dr. M. He's an amazing doctor. He never gives up hope with me. Never will. I honestly think he views me as some pet project, which is fine by me since I keep his wheels turning and he keeps making me feel like one day, it's all going to be okay.
On Wednesday, I will propose to him that I wean off my medications over the course of several weeks then maybe give my body a break for a solid month. That's if I don't take a turn for the worst and go bat shit crazy before then. Maybe my body needs a break. Maybe a break will do me some good.
So that's what I'm going to ask. If he says no? I'll respect his opinion and hear him out.
These tears that decide to well up and pour out of my eyes with zero notice, it has to stop. This depression I've sunk back into, it needs to go. The all around negativity that floats above my head, I need it to move along. I want my happy back, or at least my steady as she goes "normal" behavior.