Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Weaning - Day 13 - Remembering Me

One thing I remember about myself before the meds was how clean I wanted everything.  I was quite the nag when it came to getting things done... and the right way.  I was afraid I'd go back to that - the intense, irritable, anal, perfectionist.

It's hard to recognize what's me and what isn't.  I want things clean, these days.  Not that I didn't, before, but now, it's as if I've become fed up by the laziness of my family.  I got pretty intense with one of my kids, last night, about their habit of just leaving the mess after they're done with whatever.  I think all in my family are guilty of this in some form or another.  I know I am.

I guess what I'm saying is, once upon a time, my mom said the meds I was on at the time (different ones) made it seem like I saw the world through rose-colored glasses.  Things that were crappy, around me, didn't phase me.  All was well.  I remember the moment I realized I had anxiety issues - it was when I noticed they were gone.  (The first time I took the meds, I'm on, now.)

What I can't stand the thought of, is people in my family not taking me seriously or blaming my determination to end their laziness as a result of me going off my meds.  I hate that so very, very much.  Not much angers me more than having to defend myself and trying to convince others of my sanity.  All too often do I wish I could just leave them all, behind.  Unfortunately, that is not really an option, as I actually do love these people and I have the guide of a strong and not-often-silent conscience.

I am a passionate person.  I experience extreme emotions.  I'm impulsive and trusting and unrelenting.  And I like things clean.  I think the meds were definitely making me more lax about certain things.  More tolerant, maybe? Or, less uptight, I guess would be the right way to say that.  I found myself not caring about messes.  I also found myself being lazy.  I stopped caring about getting dressed or showering or pretty much anything.  Once in a while, I would snap out of it and have a major cleaning/getting things done frenzy.  I recognized those as my manic moments.  Maybe they weren't.  Maybe those were just the times when my brain would break through the medicine fog and catch up on the things I would normally do.  I was active and cared and moved.  It was great! I looked forward to those moments.  I also recognized that one tiny thing could set me off... meaning, one little thing would make me sad, then a flood of emotions would break though the medicine dam and I would feel all the sorrow and stress and guilt I seemed to have been avoiding or whatever, all at once.  I think the meds have been dulling who I really am.  And I think the major influxes of emotions were what led me to believe I was bipolar.

I really am glad I'm learning this all, now.  It's been quite a journey of healing.

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