Going Off Meds

-Jeff-

This has been a very productive week.

My Lamotrigine ran out last week, and because I hadn't planned ahead I didn't have any good way to refill it. I've been wanting a new shrink for a long time (mine's old and doesn't really get me) so now I have a new appointment coming up with a guy that seems pretty legit.

This meant that I'd be flying without modification for at least a week.

Today I plan to go pick up the refill and get back on the horse. I'm worried though, because I've been super chill and fairly productive this week. Which opens up so many issues.

Am I really bipolar 2? If so, what am I doing screwing around not taking meds? Yeah sure, I feel better without them, but so does everyone right before they fuck eight prostitutes, race their car in a school zone, or get into a heated political discussion with a police officer.

I'm in a weird spot. Nearly two years have passed since I was first diagnosed as having bipolar 2 (by the same out of touch pyschiatrist I'm trying to replace). Since that time, I've tackled my anger issues and childhood trauma through therapy (CBT and EMDR), gotten into 12 step recovery programs for codependency, alcoholism, and love addiction; learned how to be in a respectful and non-codependent relationship with an unselfish person; patched things up with my mom and dad to the point where I actually let them help me; worked to develop true male friendships; gone back to one of my old loves, tabletop roleplaying games; and bought a friggin house.

I'm growing up in a way I didn't think possible before. And of course none of this would have been possible if I'd still been running around unmedicated.

So now I get to meet with a new shrink and talk it all out. Could I take a smaller dose of Lamotrigine? One that wouldn't make me so sleepy and unmotivated? Should I be on an antidepressant long-term? Should I take Adderall for my ADD, which might make being organized and getting creative stuff done easier?

I know I need to be on something; I just don't know how much. It's tough because when I'm in a hypomania, like this week, I'm so much fun. I talk to my friends. I make jokes. I build websites, plan roleplaying campaigns, get shit done around the house. I pay my bills. And best of all, I don't feel the need to overcompensate with silliness and intensity to ride out the feelings of self-loathing and apathy. So saying "yes" to meds now is a bit like saying "no" to having fun.

Being crazy is not easy, guys. It takes diligence and discipline to keep from raging into antisocial extremes. Even when you've found the perfect chemical cocktail to function well in life, things may not be perfect.

In my case, I might sleep too much. I might not pay my bills on time or go to the grocery store. I might have writer's block for weeks or have zero interest in physical intimacy.

But what's the alternative? Hiding out, staying up all night, burning out friendships with needy texts, spending too much money on shitty food and shows I shouldn't stay up for?

It's been so hard for me to separate out how much of my issue is psychological, and how much is biochemical. It's possible that I'm at a point now where I can try to live life without chemical enhancement and just see how things go. But the hard truth is this: I'm still scared.

Two years ago, a girl I liked saying I wasn't her type sent me into a near-suicidal tailspin that ended up driving me into the high-flying world of mental illness and psychopharmacology. And now I'm a lot better. So the question is: do I let this drug-free state roll on and cross my fingers, or do I bite the bullet, pick up the scrip, and get back to the new normal? Either way, there is no perfect choice. And this, my friends, is the personal pasta roller that is managing your own mental health. No question can really be answered definitively, everything's up in the air. And at the end of everything, it's all up to you.

 

Spoiler alert: I'm gonna take the meds. Someday, maybe, I'll try life without them, but for now I gotta make the safe play. Wish me luck! Down here's the song I wrote after checking myself into the ER for my brain problem.

 

Not My Type    

[written August 2013]

 

i dont wanna love you like a dog anymore

 dont wanna huddle outside your door

no i dont wanna stare at your picture again

but im about to break all my rules again

wo oa

 

i know that the dream i had wont come to life

but i been like a ghost ever since that night

yeah i been hauntin you but you still cant see me

watchin who youre lovin wishin that could be me

i dont wanna be that man i was when you said

those things to me

 

youre not my type

youre not my type

 

i know it isnt right

but i miss you every night

im down but im wishin you could pick me up

sick to death of wishin i could give you up

no i dont wanna love youanymore

no i dont wanna stand outside your door

you said that you was ready but you lied to me

you left me in my driveway and im so damn empty

i wish that i could shine

but you still wouldnt see im fallin to the ground

and ill try not to break down

ill try to forget the gentle sound

your lips made when we hit the ground

i know you think youre better without me

so then it makes sense that youd say to me

 

youre not my type

 

no i know its not right i still miss you at night

i could give up this fight

to just lay down in your sight

shine your light

shine your light

shine your light

 

youre not my type

My First Blog

[originally published October 11, 2015]

-Jeff-

Blogging is hard. But it's something I used to do all the time. Long before I was a ridiculous funny guy, I was a writer. I wrote all kinds of crazy things: video game ideas, roleplaying campaigns, nerdy genre stories, half-baked novels, you name it.

And then I discovered blogging. It was 2005. The war in Iraq had been going nonstop for two blood-soaked years. The siege of Fallujah had begun and the country was on fire with sectarian violence. Meanwhile, back in the States, the anti-war movement was just starting to get on its feet. I'd seen the Kucinich campaign rise and fall, John Kerry taken out through dirty tricks and rigged voting machines, and Bush and Cheney tightening their hold on freedom here and abroad. 

I'd believed that blogging was nothing more than boring journals of ordinary people talking about their cats. I was mistaken. I found several blogs using hyperlinks to connect words and phrases to other websites, including legitimate news sources. Suddenly I had a tool I could use to assist the anti-war effort. I'd taken part in numerous protests, and I was on the board of a volunteer group trying to raise awareness, but here was something I could do every day. As someone who'd been writing since he was five years old, this was an opportunity to flex those muscles and gain some level of notoriety in the process. A fun way to feed my narcissistic impulse, and maybe, just maybe, to change the world.

Now I'm back. This new blog is unlikely to stop any wars or help any left-wing politicians get elected, but with enough effort, and a little luck, perhaps it will feed my need to be heard. And, if I do it right, make a few thousand people see the world in a slightly different way.

 

And if I really nail it, maybe I can make a few of you snort PBR through your nose. A boy can dream, can't he?