It's better than being sick

I'm pretty sensitive to my moods; I understand what can set me off, and when I'm going up or down. It took me a day or two to figure out that the nausea I was experiencing actually meant I was "getting sick" as I view it. I have digestive issues when I'm running depressed.

The schedule change, physical, and emotional stress brought on by my gallbladder attacks and emergency room visits made me cycle. I got a mixed episode, up and down at the same time. The up part was a whole lot of talking and wanting to do things. The down part would have been a hideous depression, but was only a little lethargy, fatigue, and general emotional weariness. One warning sign for me, other than an upset stomach, is the fact that taking a shower seems tougher than running a marathon. When I begin to feel that way, it's time to increase my medication.

I whacked it with an extra lithium a day, and I went up on my antidepressant one day. It worked. I'm back to normal. I got a little goofy today from all the lithium, which is my signal to scale back, but Ron was very understanding. As I tell him, it's better than being sick.

I know of two people who share my illness. I'll try to use a delicate touch, and preserve confidentiality. One guy has been diagnosed. He refuses to take mood stabilizers, and instead takes illegal sedatives. His life is a mess, and his wife has left him.

The second person actually boasts about not "needing" medication, but last night stated that she was going to take a whole bottle of muscle relaxers and drink 2 bottles of wine, hoping not to wake up. It doesn't sound like her illness is very well controlled with diet, does it?

I understand. I do. Many people don't want to admit they are ill, especially mental illness. There's a terrible finality in filing that prescription, and picking it up. You have to admit you're "Crazy". There's the realization, eventually, that you'll have to keep taking these pills until your dead. Even if they are taking their meds, many times someone starts to feel better. OK, I'm better now. I don't need the pills! They throw the pills out.

The thought horrifies me. I truly believe that God allowed my illness to become so awful as a motivation for keeping me on my medication. When I was asked what I wanted for lunch today, it took me a good 10 minutes to come up with an answer (Burger King). I was very foggy.

I have a constant dry mouth, and I always need to pee. I battle fatigue.

But it's better than being sick. I knew something was wrong, my entire life. I couldn't get a name, and I couldn't get a treatment. When I found out "it" had a name, I thanked God and swore I'd do whatever it took to manage it. When my doctor first gave me my medication, I literally took the pills right there in his office. It was a harbinger of our relationship - I am totally committed to taking my pills.

Apparently, I'm somewhat unusual. I think people like my friends above are far more common, and that's sad for several reasons. Firstly, they give those of us who do manage our illness a bad reputation. "John" could very well wreck his car driving under the influence, and "Mary" needs to be in a hospital. "Oh, it's because they're bipolar".

NO, it isn't. It's because they don't take their pills.

Secondly, they're not getting the quality of life they deserve. They have no idea how wonderful life can be. How glorious it is to know that you can depend on your brain. It's a daily joy to me. I'm not at the mercy of my brain any more. I control my brain, it does not control me. I was such a miserable slave to my illness for decades, why would I want to continue to suffer?

And when my side effects are nasty, when I'm dizzy, and when I'm tired after I just slept 9 hours, I recall issue #3, my loved ones. The people I know and love deserve to have me at my best. My best means I'm taking my pills, and I will do so for them AND myself. Everyone deserves to have me well. They have suffered just as much as I have, if not worse. They persevered and forgave me when I was at my worst. They love me. I cannot disparage that gift by refusing to be my best.

I have bipolar disorder and fetal alcohol syndrome. I'm going to be taking my medication until I'm dead. My life is only good as long as I take my pills. Without my pills, I'll be dead, badly maimed by my own hand, or worse. I need the medication, in order to have any kind of life.

I accept that. It's a tough path, but it's the one God has laid for me. I'm going to take my pills, because it's better than being sick.