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Medications

Some people have a hard time taking medications, some people take them no problems, some people have opinions on what other people should be doing with their medications – and I don’t mean doctors.

I believe that, along with the stigma of mental health, there is a medication stigma. It’s like, God forbid you need to take meds to keep your moods in check or something. 

Here’s a picture of my mental health medications… the first one is my emergency pills, which I had to rely on heavily over the last two weeks. The next two are mood stabilizers, they also help control my appetite. Next, is the new one I got last week, an antidepressant that’s supposed to help with the anxiety. I’m only taking half of the full dose right now, but I’m already feeling better. Then, we have an anti-psychotic, for the bipolar disorder. And finally, a sleeping pill, because I just wasn’t sleeping. I’ve been on that one about a month now and can finally say that I’m getting used to it and getting the sleep that I need. 

— Now, this list would be a little different. When I first started this post, this was a list of my medications. But they’ve changed, and I’m not ashamed. I am now taking Lorazepam (for emergencies), Topiramate 100 & 50 mg (have to be two separate prescriptions because they don’t make just one pill), Zoloft 100 mg, Rexolti 2 mg, Lunesta 3 mg, and Trazadone 50 mg.  All of these help me stay stable. I don’t like the amount of pills that I’m taking. But if it keeps me sane, it’s a good thing. It keeps me going. It keeps me able to go to work and live my hectic life and not break down like I should have done by now. 

I’ve heard several people’s opinion about what I should be doing about my meds. I need to get off of them. I need to not take so many. Why don’t I try something holistic? Try meditation. Try prayer. Try just being happy. You know, the usual, your mental health doesn’t require medication. And I can understand some of it. Because I want to have a baby. And I know that to have a baby I can’t be on all of these medications, or that I seriously need to talk to my doctor. I’ve already talked to one doctor, and he said that he’s delivered healthy babies to bipolar mothers who were on medications, but I need to talk to my psych doctor to see what we can do about the medications and what the risks are.

I don’t want you to be ashamed of taking your meds, no matter how many you have to take. As long as they keep you functioning, you need them. And maybe you won’t need them forever, but that’s a conversation for you and your doctor. 

What about you? How many medications do you take? Do you have a hard time with them? What do you do when people have opinions about what you should be taking.

I Don’t Speak Well

I don’t speak well…

I know the words I want to tell you. 

Words in my head that trip over my tongue.

I don’t speak well.

I know you need words. 

Words of comfort and peace.

Words that will make you feel at ease.

They are there in my heart and mind.

But the path to my mouth is polluted. 

My mind, it goes in a million different directions at one time.

The words get lost. 

I don’t speak well.

I write.

I’m a writer.

I’ve always been better at writing than speaking.

And I know that doesn’t help you right now.

Because you need to hear the right words from me. 

Words of peace and love and safety from my tongue.

But they are gone, they are lost.

Just to write this takes a while.

My mind drifts.

I don’t speak well.

I wish I could be the voice of reason for you.

I wish I could be the calm in your storm.

But I don’t speak well. 

And as I’m writing this, I know you need me to say words.

But I don’t speak well.

“You Know She’s Bipolar…”


There it is again. That whispered phrase, “You know she’s bipolar.” 

To remind you, or let you in on what I’m talking about, I work in a hospital. And where I work, we don’t have a mental health unit, we don’t have mental health doctors. In fact, in this area, we barely have anyone who treats mental health cases. We have MHMR, one private doctor, and a mental hospital that, apparently/supposedly, releases people before they are stable. 

So with that little bit of knowledge, when we have patients that have a mental health diagnosis, some nurses seem to think that they are more difficult because of their diagnosis. Or that they are crazy, or something. But bipolar, that’s the one that always gets whispered. 

I don’t really understand it. I know that some bipolar patients can be difficult to work with because of our swinging moods, but that doesn’t mean that we’re crazy or trying to be difficult. 

Understand, too, that there are people in the hospital that just aren’t all there in their mind, regardless of their mental health diagnosis. And this particular patient was talking out of her head, kind of like she wasn’t all there. I was being kind and trying to help as much as I could. But she said that she wanted to report a couple of nurses. So I went to talk to the charge nurses, who was giving report to the night charge. They were both very understanding of the situation. They knew that she wasn’t all there mentally and that she “says things that just aren’t true.” But then the night charge goes and says, “Well, you know she’s bipolar.” By this time I had been closing the door, thinking the conversation had been over, but when I heard that, I said excuse me and he repeated his statement. To which I replied, “Well so am I but you don’t see me talking out of my head!” They both just looked at me for a moment. Unsure of what to do or say. And then he was saying something about her being severely bipolar. I was walking away already. 

How is it that in a hospital setting, we have such a stigma on mental health? Shouldn’t there be less stigma in a hospital setting, you see these kind of people every day. People who are sick and dying or whatever, needing life saving medical attention who happen to have depression or bipolar disorder, it shouldn’t change the way we approach them, how we treat them. 

The stigma is everywhere. And I want to change that. If it takes standing up to one nurse at a time who thinks that bipolar is something to be whispered and is something that is scary or makes someone difficult, then that’s what I’ll do. 

Pacing


I’ve started pacing again…

Around the house, around the yard, at work… On my days off it’s a lot worse. 

It’s like I can’t relax, I can’t rest. The longer I sit still, the more upset I get. I have to move. I have to do something. 

At work, it’s not so bad. There’s plenty to do, so I just stay busy. But when there’s a lull in how busy it should be, I’m moving. Because I can finally sit, for a minute. But the minute ticks by and I have to move. 

This weekend should have been fun and relaxing. We went to visit a friend. And I was anxious the whole way up there. When we got there I started pacing.  Sitting on the edge of the seat, fidgeting with my hands, pacing again. I finally took an Ativan, it helped a little. I’m having to take them a lot more. 

The same thing happened today. More pacing. Another pill, this time I went and took a nap because I just couldn’t handle it. 

I go to see the doctor Thursday. So I plan on telling her that I’m more anxious. That I’m having to take my emergency pills almost every day. That my sleeping patterns are still off and that I need some kind of help. Something needs to change. I can’t go around feeling like this all the time.