I did my research… taking the medicine I have for sixteen years now, an anti-depressant, is known to cause cognitive decline. One of the worst fears my mother ever voiced was not in losing her physical abilities, but rather she truly feared losing her mind… So with this in my head already, it seemed reasonable at this stage of my life, to let them go. For three weeks there was massive struggle, from the physical to the psychological, until finally there were no more brain rushes up the back of my neck into my head, no more dizziness, and I felt pretty good. I began to realize that indeed, I could think. It wasn't "me" that could not remember things, as I found that being clean and clear of the medicine made my ability to focus much easier. Sadly, that's not all that came up, or out… as the case may be….

Without the medicine, I became very "intense." I was always three steps ahead, and four more out in left field, and even more thoughts racing in and out concerning totally unrelated ideas, and all at the same time. My happiness, or excitement over things was way over-the-top, and once again, I got to meet and embrace that lovely black river of depression, always so ready to claim me… And of course, during this time, my roommate of 13 years moves out leaving me in debt up to my ears, my house in ruins, fear of utilities being cut off, and many of my personal items are just gone missing. Jewelry, tools, etc. Now on top of this major transition/acceptance, I am called upon by a nice lady out of California to work on an Animal Abuse case that is going to trial here in my county of residence, Texas, this Monday morning. I don't suppose I should have to explain how deeply distressing it was to have to read about the case. Deep in my background is a very nasty reality that I have had to face over and over, until now, I finally have just begun to accept that it is true. No question.

You see, my father loved animals, and would bring home strays from time to time. My mother, on the other hand, being left alone for long periods, months in fact as my dad was in the Army and gone to Japan and Korea, she did not seem to have this same affection for our pets. The resulting images and pieces of a puzzle left unfinished for nearly 60 years now, suddenly came clearly into view. And with that heavy realization, came all the resulting issues for me, who literally dreams nightly of "saving" little animals, and I am always caught up in the "need" to rescue. I am a rescuer of people and animals. Like an alcoholic that has no ability to draw the line at say, 3 beers, also for me, I cannot separate my emotions when caught up in anything animal related, especially abuse. It is like I am always guilty, when I'm not, always trying to make up for what she did, and then strangled by the fact that this was "my" mother who did these things. Who would graphically explain things to me that no child of that age should have to absorb.

So why do I feel like a big loser? Because everyone that was in my immediate "family" (the roommate and his crew) all began to bombard me with threats and conditions, insults to me really, about me being "off" the meds. Until you see the doctor, until you get back on your medicine… blah blah blah…. Because I suddenly looked around me and said, "no way…. this is pure silliness and it will never change." So in typical boat-rocking bipolar fashion, I stirred up everything and made some changes. Got the roommate out, and now I am trying to face all my demons alone. Not my finest hour.

I did make a reasonable break-through today. After some serious post-wake-up anxiety, I have managed to make a pretty good day out of it, not nearly as productive as I would like to be, but we're making some progress, seeing some daylight. I've been packing up all his things into tubs, and taking them around to the side-yard to the metal shed and storing them in there. The animals are all well-fed and happy now, as it has been almost two weeks since he left. But yesterday, I felt so forelorn, so broken down, that I succumbed to the pressure, and I went and took some of the medicine I still have. I slept like a rock, and upon waking, all day I've felt sort of drugged down, blanketed, the usual drill.

And sadly, because I was in the fresh grips of this hell, slightly diffused by the one dose I took, I took another one this morning as well. Loser! I gave in to the pressure of my own anxiety and other's constant badgering. Bear in mind, no one is living here but me, but the old roommate still knows the triggers to push, and his emails are like a broken record… Until you take your medicine… blah blah blah, like he is ever coming back in this house in any course… NOT!

He left another email this morning saying that "my" medicine was down at the pharmacy, the doctor had filled it. Well, hells belles.. this is my life, my medicine and my doctor. I am not married, I am single. What in the heck is anyone else doing talking about my prescriptions with the pharmacist or the doctor. I just can't catch a break. So I told him yes, but they could not be delivered until Tuesday when the lady that does that comes in. I felt like telling him to stuff it… but the medicine keeps my nasty outbursts at bay….

So that's it. After almost a month of hard work to free myself of the effects of the drug, to find that indeed my mind is much clearer, I can remember names, why I walked into a room, you know, basic stuff, like where I put things… it was like getting my senses back. But with all that comes the bad part. The part where I seem to piss everyone off, sooner or later. I have a small group of friends that love me and support me and that means everything. I can say most anything to them and they don't take it personally. As for the rest of the "ex-clan" (ex-roommate) they all think I've gone blinkin' batty… I just can't do anything fun, or interesting or different, because they all start saying I'm being bipolar and not acting properly… What? I say it again… What?

So I guess they are all going to be happy if they find out I am taking the bloody medicine again. I just dropped off from communication to him or his family. So stupid it is, to create so much drama. I really don't care for drama and I think that riles me up more than anything else. It is pure unnecessary silliness to me, but I guess I am the one that needs to be blanketed, so that others can go on being dull, boring, stupid, or useless. Pick one. I just don't know where this is going. I surely don't like to cry at the drop of a hat, but I have been working on cognitive therapy, learning re-thinking techniques to re-set all the bad messages in my head into understanding and onto something better. That's why I feel like a loser, after so much work, to just give in and take the pill. So that I would feel numb again and other people would be safe from the crazy bipolar lady. You just never know "what" she might say… 🙁

It's a lovely evening, birds have been singing loudly all day. It rained heavily for two days or so, and today is clear and clean. Not too terribly hot, the sun just peeped in and out, and was very mild. I just wish I could have hung on, but maybe my doctor is right, that "some" people really just have an imbalance, and without the medicine, it is detrimental to my life as well as others. At this point, I have no idea. I suspicion I am not going back to the full dosage every day as it rendered me completely without any feelings, physical or otherwise. And everything I have been studying says we must face our feelings, and look at them closely, so as to learn the lessons they teach. It's a battle and it feels like hell to be caught up in this cycle. I just wanted to be clean. To begin to start my sixth decade of life with a clean slate, armed with new tools and insights, a spiritual base. Well, I did try. It just doesn't work out so well for me. I guess we will just have to see how it goes. I have no transportation now, my van needs to be completely checked out. I got the manual, but without tools, it really is useless. It is a transition, gaining control of my own money again, not having to listen to someone moan and groan 24/7 and totally wallow in depression, as it affected me greatly. Now that the negative vibrations have "left the building" I was hoping for a better outcome. Maybe I'm not really a "loser," just a person with a lot of childhood conditioning/trauma/stress that still haunts me terribly to this day. I just don't know what to think. I like my doctor, but do I have confidence in him…. noooooo…… we don't communicate well. He thinks scoliosis doesn't cause pain, and that I should be on meds the rest of my days, mental decline or not… I just want to be me. Unblanketed. I thought I could do it. But probably not. Doesn't look very promising, this being clean thing….