Going off my Meds: Recipe for Disaster

I have always had my doubts. Is something really wrong with me? Maybe I am just a bitch? Maybe I over exaggerate? Maybe I am just lazy? Maybe I am just hyper? Most people with mental illness feel this way at one point in their lives. This type of denial is the dangerous and potentially deadly kind. A few months ago, I began binging and purging in a halfhearted attempt to lose weight. In hindsight I realize I was going through a pretty traumatic manic phase. 




My doctor (not a psychiatrist) was slowly upping my Lamictal by 25mg a month and I was only at 100mg. I was barely medicated. After confiding in my mother in law, she sent me to a counselor to talk about it. Note I didn't say psychiatrist. This woman had the credentials of a school counselor, but for talking it may work right? Well, she asked me to tell my story. I am always apprehensive to tell it to medical professionals as it is a very traumatic story. My ability to be treated for mental illnesses is halted because of these people assuming I am just sad about what happened to me in my past.

“After hearing your story, I am speechless” she said. Yes…it was traumatic. Yes…it sucked. BUT. Lets get back to my bipolar/borderline. She insisted that I was just severely depressed due to what happened to me as a child.


I’m sorry. But how many times must I reiterate that my mother being super shitty has nothing to do with mania and depressive cycles. This is a brain issue, not a trauma issue. My PTSD accounts for the trauma. Apparently the counselor was close with my doctor and because I signed a consent form, she contacted him and insisted (yes she is a counselor) that he put me on a high dose of antidepressants. Ever seen a bipolar person on antidepressants? It was my first clue I was bipolar. 2 years ago I started taking Chantix to quit smoking, a few days later I was weeping in the fetal position because the 11 men outside were trying to kill me…so yeah I’ll take those antidepressants now. I was fuming. I was pissed. My Lamictal was not at therapeutic levels and I was still very symptomatic. I needed an upage in dose…not a new diagnosis.

After the meeting with my doctor I sat for a long time wondering…is it really just depression? Maybe there is nothing wrong with me. I am sure I am just making this up. That day I went off my medications completely. About a week later…I became incredibly manic. I felt like an electrified bumblebee just buzzing around my kitchen finding things to clean faster than the speed of sound. I became hyper-sexual, practically humping my husband at the dinner table with no regard for anyone watching. It was the best/worst days of the experience. It was about 2 days of mania before I spiraled down…hard. Bad enough to worry Joe…which takes a lot. For nearly a week a sat on the couch and watched my family go on with their normal routines as if I were paralyzed. Unshowered and unmotivated…I felt dead. As if iron were running through my veins, the smallest things felt like great challenges. I wept, for no reason. I laid, in a daze paying no attention to my surroundings, I was in another world

. Finally Joe confronted me and questioned why I kept doing this. I told him “There is nothing wrong, I am just sad, they said I just had a shitty Mom”. He grabbed me and said “There is something wrong, this is your proof, you are not here Heather, you have gone somewhere else. Please, go back on your medication…it was obviously doing something…if not staving away this”.

The love and caring in his voice was enough for me to muster the strength to get up and take my meds. I upped them to 200mg. 3 days later, I awoke. The sun shined brighter, my children’s smiles seemed so much warmer, and my husband seemed so much more enjoyable. I felt normal again. I knew that day, that I would never go off my meds again. I knew that day, that I needed to see someone qualified to treat me…not just a physician’s assistant and a counselor. But…alas the mental health system in this country is horrid and I will have to *due to being poor* suffer with unqualified doctors to deal with my conditions. But, looking on the bright side…at least I know what meds to tell them to prescribe. I word of advice. You know your body. You know your mind. You get to choose…not them.

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