A weekly dose of reality

I really hate Sundays. That’s the day I spread my bottles of meds out on the dining room table and fill my pill case for the coming week. Geodon, the anti-psychotic, Lamicital, the mood stabilizer, and Prozac, the anti-anxiety and anti-depressant drug, all go into the little compartments to be measured out morning and night for the next 7 days. I count my Ativan (for panic), and see how much amitriptyline (for insomnia and nightmares) I have. Prescriptions that need to be filled are turned upside down by the phone, to be called into the pharmacy before I put everything away.

I hate it. I hate all of them. I want to throw them all away and live my life like normal people do, without having my brain rebooted twice a day. A good friend constantly reminds me that my health isn’t a matter of will power, but it feels that way to me. If I were a better, stronger person, I wouldn’t have to take them. If I didn’t have to take them, and worry about the expense of them, I’d have more control over my life. I want to get off of them, at least some of them.

The temptation is particularly strong when I come off a week like I had when I was on my trip. No panic attacks, only 1 nightmare, zero anxiety. I was completely relaxed. I felt normal. At times like that it’s easy to believe that I don’t need the meds anymore. I’m rrealistic enough to know that just stopping them all at once isn’t a good idea. It would throw me into withdrawal. But weaning myself off them slowly …. maybe I can do that.

So that’s what I’m going to do, starting with the Geodon. I wasn’t able to do it successfully last time, but I’m better now than I was. If that goes ok, which I think it will, I’ll tell my doctor then try to cut back the Lamictal. The worst that can happen is that I have to take the dosages back up to where they are now. So what’s to lose?

If all goes as planned, next week 7 fewer pills will go into that case.