Unmedicated Sanity: Finding the Edge of the Ledge
I'm different off the meds. Sanity takes a lot of vigilance, which in turn takes a lot of energy, which in turn leaves me with absolutely zero tolerance for anything that smacks of bullshit, which in turn makes me incredibly anti-social. I haven't yet decided if this is a good or bad chain of events, but it is a necessary one.
I like not having to take a pill every day. Sure, I probably forgot to take them almost as often as I remembered, but either way I was medicated and sanity came easier. At least I think that was 'sanity'. I was easier going on the outside and far more social. I guess that's normal/sane. Now I'm easier going on the inside and far less social. I guess that's abnormal/insane.
I'm good with the unmedicated me; I just don't think the rest of the world (at least the close-by world) is cool with it. I get disappointed comments, questioning looks, and the occasional guilt trip. They don't get it. They say they do, and maybe they think they do, but I know they wish things were different. They wish I was different, sane.
The funny thing is that I'm actually feeling more and more sane and more and more like the me I used to be (I'm pretty sure this is the textbook definition of 'normal'). Not pre-medicated me. Longer ago me. Like back when I didn't care about much outside myself and had few friends. I worried less and kept to myself more. It wasn't too long ago that I stressed about text messages, social networking posts, who was doing what and why they weren't doing it with me, and why they were 'too busy' to talk to me.
Now, in contrast, I'm easy going. And that's without the meds. Sure, they made me more fun and outgoing, but I was always a little too concerned about what was going on around me. Ok, not as concerned as I was pre-counseling and pre-medication, but still concerned enough to breed worry and stress. These days I'm a lot more carefree. It's not a light and airy carefree, like I imagine fairies and butterflies enjoy, but a slightly darker version, like the hope one has on the third day of steady rain. It's not a bad thing, just a resignation that it's all good, even if all is not perfect.
I am confident that I am the right me for right now. Some may question my sanity. Not many people would agree that being anti-social is sane. Ask me if I care. I think we all know the answer to that. I seldom care what people think. It works for me. In fact, I might be willing to argue that it's the key to my unmedicated sanity at this point. I'm not saying that I plan to spend the rest of my life in a cabin on a lake fifty miles from the nearest public restroom, but for now I need a little separation from the rest of the world.
Here's the deal. I'm not ashamed to admit that my sanity is tenuous at best. Medication makes it a lot easier. A lot easier. The only problem is that I don't want to take medication for the rest of my life. I know, I know. I'm never one to take the easy road, but this is one easy road I really think I need to avoid. I want to be sane without a daily boost and a Dixie cup of water. Is it possible? I think so. I mean it's not like I hear voices or bang my head against a wall repeatedly. I just get a anxious and tend toward the depressed - simple, easy enough to control stuff.
And that's what I'm doing. Without the drugs I get slightly agoraphobic and lose the last sliver of my tolerance for bullshit. Pulling back and retreating inward are my drug-free, automatic coping mechanisms. This is where I am six weeks into unmedicated sanity. The next few weeks and months bring a challenge - how do I balance sanity and a re-entry into the social world? I can't stay hidden forever. I have goals and I really do like people (just not their bullshit and drama). At some point, I'm going to have to mix and mingle. And stay sane.
Little by little, I'm learning where the edge of my ledge is. In the past few weeks, I've talked myself out of ruminating thoughts and the occasional undifferentiated impatience. I feel like anxiety simmers pretty close to the surface, but I am ever-vigilent. I won't let it take over. I'm sure over time I'll get better at being unmedicated. I'm learning what works and what doesn't. I know I love quiet and the sound of a wind chime in the distance. I love being alone. I love not worrying about who likes me and who doesn't. Of course, I know I can't live totally separated from the world which is where it gets tricky.
As I gain confidence, I plan to slowly let myself back into the world. I know what I need to be successful - an exit strategy and a safe home base. See... Kick the Can (I still have a scar on my shin from playing with my cousins as a kid) does teach life skills.
Balance. It's all about balance. The meds provide an easy solution. Without them, I am the solution. I have to provide my own balance. Deep inside I know that I love being apart only slightly more than I love being a part. One day I will re-enter the world. I don't expect to ever be a cannon-ball-into-the-deep-end kind of person, but I'll at least be present. In the meantime, I'm not going to apologize for being the me I need to be right now. I've chosen unmedicated sanity. If it means I'm a little anti-social, so be it.
I like not having to take a pill every day. Sure, I probably forgot to take them almost as often as I remembered, but either way I was medicated and sanity came easier. At least I think that was 'sanity'. I was easier going on the outside and far more social. I guess that's normal/sane. Now I'm easier going on the inside and far less social. I guess that's abnormal/insane.
I'm good with the unmedicated me; I just don't think the rest of the world (at least the close-by world) is cool with it. I get disappointed comments, questioning looks, and the occasional guilt trip. They don't get it. They say they do, and maybe they think they do, but I know they wish things were different. They wish I was different, sane.
The funny thing is that I'm actually feeling more and more sane and more and more like the me I used to be (I'm pretty sure this is the textbook definition of 'normal'). Not pre-medicated me. Longer ago me. Like back when I didn't care about much outside myself and had few friends. I worried less and kept to myself more. It wasn't too long ago that I stressed about text messages, social networking posts, who was doing what and why they weren't doing it with me, and why they were 'too busy' to talk to me.
Now, in contrast, I'm easy going. And that's without the meds. Sure, they made me more fun and outgoing, but I was always a little too concerned about what was going on around me. Ok, not as concerned as I was pre-counseling and pre-medication, but still concerned enough to breed worry and stress. These days I'm a lot more carefree. It's not a light and airy carefree, like I imagine fairies and butterflies enjoy, but a slightly darker version, like the hope one has on the third day of steady rain. It's not a bad thing, just a resignation that it's all good, even if all is not perfect.
I am confident that I am the right me for right now. Some may question my sanity. Not many people would agree that being anti-social is sane. Ask me if I care. I think we all know the answer to that. I seldom care what people think. It works for me. In fact, I might be willing to argue that it's the key to my unmedicated sanity at this point. I'm not saying that I plan to spend the rest of my life in a cabin on a lake fifty miles from the nearest public restroom, but for now I need a little separation from the rest of the world.
Here's the deal. I'm not ashamed to admit that my sanity is tenuous at best. Medication makes it a lot easier. A lot easier. The only problem is that I don't want to take medication for the rest of my life. I know, I know. I'm never one to take the easy road, but this is one easy road I really think I need to avoid. I want to be sane without a daily boost and a Dixie cup of water. Is it possible? I think so. I mean it's not like I hear voices or bang my head against a wall repeatedly. I just get a anxious and tend toward the depressed - simple, easy enough to control stuff.
And that's what I'm doing. Without the drugs I get slightly agoraphobic and lose the last sliver of my tolerance for bullshit. Pulling back and retreating inward are my drug-free, automatic coping mechanisms. This is where I am six weeks into unmedicated sanity. The next few weeks and months bring a challenge - how do I balance sanity and a re-entry into the social world? I can't stay hidden forever. I have goals and I really do like people (just not their bullshit and drama). At some point, I'm going to have to mix and mingle. And stay sane.
Little by little, I'm learning where the edge of my ledge is. In the past few weeks, I've talked myself out of ruminating thoughts and the occasional undifferentiated impatience. I feel like anxiety simmers pretty close to the surface, but I am ever-vigilent. I won't let it take over. I'm sure over time I'll get better at being unmedicated. I'm learning what works and what doesn't. I know I love quiet and the sound of a wind chime in the distance. I love being alone. I love not worrying about who likes me and who doesn't. Of course, I know I can't live totally separated from the world which is where it gets tricky.
As I gain confidence, I plan to slowly let myself back into the world. I know what I need to be successful - an exit strategy and a safe home base. See... Kick the Can (I still have a scar on my shin from playing with my cousins as a kid) does teach life skills.
Balance. It's all about balance. The meds provide an easy solution. Without them, I am the solution. I have to provide my own balance. Deep inside I know that I love being apart only slightly more than I love being a part. One day I will re-enter the world. I don't expect to ever be a cannon-ball-into-the-deep-end kind of person, but I'll at least be present. In the meantime, I'm not going to apologize for being the me I need to be right now. I've chosen unmedicated sanity. If it means I'm a little anti-social, so be it.
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