As I pack up my room AGAIN, I am also stopping all meds.
I have spent the last twelve days feeling so ill and swimming in a haze of nausea, burning stomach, fatigue, pain, headaches, sinusitis. Not to mention such a heightened PTSD state, it’s been hideous and terrifying. I have been determined to stick it out, as they say they make the symptoms worse to get better…but the ‘worse’ was clearly a little too worse. I have learnt that my tolerance levels are super high and have been noticing that I put up with feeling like utter crap. And this isn’t right.
I am full of fear at what will be, but as soon as the doctor said to STOP right away, I also felt relief. I really believe in listening to your body and hearing its sighs or its cries. And tonight my body sung a cry of relief whilst on the phone to him. It has been replaced with a tight knot in my stomach for the unknown. But this is inevitable. In some ways the knot is smaller than it was whilst I was on meds. I was trying so so hard to ignore, or just be with the worries of the future and what this was doing to my poor bod. But they were still there, shouting loud and clear. I have known for a while that meds were not right for me, but again – I was trying so hard to not let this instinct to be true because I was determined to give myself a break from the symptoms to enable the healing to be a touch more accessible and ‘easier’. EMDR to feel more approachable. Therapy to not feel such a trigger. And the rest. So this determination to battle on through regardless of my body’s cries, was also coated in self care, it just didn’t work out.
It feels quite a significant moment in history – I have been officially told that meds are not for me. Sure there might be a few more out there, or one of the bunch I’ve tried that I could try again someday (who knows what the future holds) but for now I have made the decision to give myself a break from them. I have had reactions that were “one in a billion”, and to the last one I was taking – “one in a zillion”. I think this gives me the hint that perhaps my bod just doesn’t agree with a shit tonne of chemicals kicking around it, no matter how much my mind could do with the break for a moment.
In many ways I think this decision feels easier, fucking hard, but still an edge of easier, because I am moving house tomorrow. I am moving away from such an unhealthy and unhappy environment, to a room and home that can be mine. It is nerve-jingling…in some ways I feel back to being a student again. Just a touch older. I will be living with folk I don’t know, and in a house that’s a bit skanky. But also really cool and incredible. AND HAS TWO CATS. It feels a weird coincidence that these two things should happen on the same day – moving and stopping meds. As much as I’m scared of the two, it can’t help but feel like a fresh new start. Something that has been needing to happen for flippin’ yonks.
I have moved around so so much the last seven months. At a time I have needed stability the most, it hasn’t been there. It just is how it has happened. It does seem to be how I roll in life – at other times when I have needed foundations, I have landed myself in scenarios in which there are the complete opposite. At times it felt desperate, but mostly I always thought I liked (and I did like) the footloose and fancy free life. But now it is changing. Just for a bit. I need a place to call my own, and I have done for a while. This place may only be until April but at least that’s a cosy start.
Who knows what will be from the meds scenario, and who knows what the PTSD will do, but all I know is that I’ve done my best at this meds game, and sure as hell kicked its butt. It just kicked mine a little harder. So for now I am going to be back to me – no numbness, no weirdness, no distancing, no body-rattling side effects…just all the glory and all the shit.