from medication that poisoned my brain has been quite the adventure.
I specifically told my Doc that I have a hypersensitivity to medication.
“Oh, you’ll do fine” they said.
“You won’t have any problems” they said.
I knew going in that it was risky because, let’s be real here, I’ve been on meds in the past and I went off the deep end then, too.
But to stop the sleepwalking, sleeptexting, sleepcooking, sleepdriving … the list goes on but what would the point be … I went with it.
I lost entire pieces of my memory, some of which have still not been fully recovered.
It stopped the sleep-stuff and controlled my mania by making me a hollowed out shell without emotions.
I spent 48 hours simply trying to remember my niece’s name.
Friends have marked me off their list and I don’t blame them.
Well, actually, I do blame them.
They’ve known me forever and should have realized something was up.
Mayhaps they weren’t the friends I thought they were.
That, at this point, is neither here nor there.
What’s done is done.
Needless to say, in the near future, I may be sleep-stuffing, totally manic and my own weird self again, but it beats losing pieces of myself that define me.
Meds work excellently for some, but to me, they are poison.
Always have been and I take responsibility for giving in.
I learned this lesson years ago and it sucks that I had the “maybe this time” mentality and had to learn it all over again.
Good effing grief.