On Off

When I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I thought the psychiatrist was wrongly diagnosing me. I went along with it for months, thinking he’d figure it out. I ended up switching psychiatrists and the second one had the same opinion. That’s when I first started to believe it. Then, all my actions and thoughts were put into a different perspective and I realized just how accurate the diagnosis was. I was prescribed medication to help control it and things got better. 

Then, I got off my medication for the first time. That was when I first started to realize how bad my disorder is and how important my medication is to my being normal and sane. It’s almost as if without medication there is no right or wrong, no rules or consequences, and anything that sounds like a good idea at the time is probably self destructive. Over the past few months, I’ve gotten better at taking my meds, but every once and awhile I just get so busy that I forget and one day always turns into three at least, and then I’m off on a tangent. My choices don’t even make sense to me. 

One time, someone asked me if I thought I’d even need to be medicated if nobody had ever told me I was bipolar. These past few days are my response. I’m not going to explain, but if the person who asked me that questions reads this, I hope you understand. I am different and not myself off my meds. I’m off. Until I’m on again. I can’t control it. 

Please for the love of all that is good on this planet, don’t ever discourage someone from taking their medication. Don’t encourage self destructive behavior. Don’t let someone feel like less than normal for needing help. Help people be the best people they can be. 


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