Every evening at 10pm, my husband’s phone starts to beep. It’s a daily alarm to remind me to take my medication. I go to the kitchen drawer where the tablets are kept, and rustling around (because it’s our lets shove everything we don’t know where to keep in this drawer, drawer) I’ll find them. I’ll take the 100mg Lamotrigine, 50mg Aripiprazole and 50mg Sertraline. They’re a combination of a mood stabiliser, an antipsychotic and an anti depressant. Taking medication is a part of my night time routine, as much as washing my face and brushing my teeth. I never hesitate to put them in my mouth and swallow them with a gulp of water.
These tiny pills keep me stable. They allow me to function and get up in the morning. They counter the negative thoughts that lead me to feeling desperately depressed and suicidal. They stop any manic episode from emerging and causing me to become a whirlwind of self destructive hyperactivity. They silence the cruel and vicious voices in my head when I’m depressed, or the delusions that make me believe I can do anything when I’m manic. With all that in mind, why would I not take them? Why would I choose to be poorly? I’ve learnt that I can’t live without medication, otherwise bipolar completely overruns my life. It sweeps in like a high tide, submerging my true self, and the low tide never arrives. It controls my life, and I’m resolute that I’ll never knowingly let that happen again.
It’s not a weakness, or a flaw in my character to take medication. I’m not naive, I haven’t blindly allowed a doctor to prescribe them. It took a long time to come to terms with the fact I needed medication to survive. Long discussions with my psychiatrist allowed me to make informed decisions about what approach I wanted to pursue with my treatment. I didn’t settle for meds that left me with debilitating side effects. I tried a number of meds and combinations of them to find what worked for me. It was a long process but ultimately more than worth the time and effort.
I’ve always prescribed to the idea that those living with long term mental illnesses are strong. We manage to live through our struggles everyday and emerge stronger than we were, whether we realise it or not. Part of our strength comes from admitting we need help. It takes someone of a firm and resolute character to come to the realisation that their mental health is having a marked effect on their life. To take medication when there is still shame and stigma surrounding it proves we can withstand the negativity.
Of course, the choice is there for us. I fully support and understand when someone doesn’t want to take medication. Therapy and lifestyle changes is enough for some. What I disagree with is being shamed or not seen as being as strong as these individuals. I am. Every evening when I take those tablets I’m not seeing them as a sign of weakness. I haven’t failed. With them I’ve achieved so much and become a healthier version of myself.