a tinge of shame that goes with drug therapy
Written by
Anonymous
I'm embarrassed whenever I'm collecting my medcines. Because I'll feel the pharmacist offering me the 'wow- you're-seriously-crazy' glance as she doles out the pills.
The current cocktail consists of 8 types of medicines (18 pills daily). I've a lot of pride, hence it's natural that I've rejected all medicines time and again, thinking, "I'll use will power". Well, one of nature's own rules dictates that whatever you resist, persists.
These days, I've resigned to the fact that medicines help me manage 'the unexpected'. There's no way to guard against facing tough inner conflicts and flashbacks of an unsavoury past, so the more sensible option is to stick to regular doses of mood stabilizers and benzos. For my own sanity.
And no, I'm not crazy. I know I deserve credit for seeking stability and security through psych treatment, but the niggling fear of being labelled 'crazy' remains. Over time, such dichotomies are gaining acceptance within.