My first day on Tegretol: no terrible side effects experienced
as of yet. A little drowsy, but my doctor and pharmacist both warned me previously
that potentially excessive sleepiness was to be expected but that it would probably subside after a few
doses. I'm feeling hopeful, but still a little apprehensive. Ever since I was
diagnosed back in 2006 I have never believed in a perfect fix for this illness.
Pills provide safety nets. Therapy provides fighting techniques. But the battle
will always, always be in session. I have lost count of how many times a
particular cocktail has worked wonderfully for me and then gradually, or even
suddenly, stopped being right for me. It just happens. I've learned not to be
pessimistic about it or say that there's no point in trying. I've learned not
to be blind and convince myself when I'm feeling good that I will always feel
good. And as hard as it is to do at times, I try to remind myself-and anyone
else who is hurting-that the darkest times will not always last either. You
know, the mysteries of the universe and why we are all alive and what the
meaning of it is and what will happen after life is all bewildering enough
without having a mental illness. So when you do have a brain that processes
thoughts, emotions, etc. in a different manner than the average person, I
believe it makes you more sensitive to these questions of life and death. In
some it creates more fear; in others it creates more certainty, and in others
it creates all kinds of gobbly gook and fantasy and truth and dream resin than
a single soul can contain. Right now I'm floating through distilled passions,
absorbing all the shocks and banter that a confused mind encounters. Soon,
perhaps, I will see more clearly. My ideas will be courser, my feelings
sounder. Where I am now and where I will be, and hell, where I have been, all
tumble around me at this moment, and I am parallel to them all, attached and
unattached; a part of and a splinter off from them. And in this mindboggling
fog, I feel at peace. It's a peace I have not felt in a while. Perhaps not
ever. And after it passes I may never feel it again. But I'll take this awesome
moment for what it’s worth, and keep floating on until I reach the shore.Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Floating
My first day on Tegretol: no terrible side effects experienced
as of yet. A little drowsy, but my doctor and pharmacist both warned me previously
that potentially excessive sleepiness was to be expected but that it would probably subside after a few
doses. I'm feeling hopeful, but still a little apprehensive. Ever since I was
diagnosed back in 2006 I have never believed in a perfect fix for this illness.
Pills provide safety nets. Therapy provides fighting techniques. But the battle
will always, always be in session. I have lost count of how many times a
particular cocktail has worked wonderfully for me and then gradually, or even
suddenly, stopped being right for me. It just happens. I've learned not to be
pessimistic about it or say that there's no point in trying. I've learned not
to be blind and convince myself when I'm feeling good that I will always feel
good. And as hard as it is to do at times, I try to remind myself-and anyone
else who is hurting-that the darkest times will not always last either. You
know, the mysteries of the universe and why we are all alive and what the
meaning of it is and what will happen after life is all bewildering enough
without having a mental illness. So when you do have a brain that processes
thoughts, emotions, etc. in a different manner than the average person, I
believe it makes you more sensitive to these questions of life and death. In
some it creates more fear; in others it creates more certainty, and in others
it creates all kinds of gobbly gook and fantasy and truth and dream resin than
a single soul can contain. Right now I'm floating through distilled passions,
absorbing all the shocks and banter that a confused mind encounters. Soon,
perhaps, I will see more clearly. My ideas will be courser, my feelings
sounder. Where I am now and where I will be, and hell, where I have been, all
tumble around me at this moment, and I am parallel to them all, attached and
unattached; a part of and a splinter off from them. And in this mindboggling
fog, I feel at peace. It's a peace I have not felt in a while. Perhaps not
ever. And after it passes I may never feel it again. But I'll take this awesome
moment for what it’s worth, and keep floating on until I reach the shore.
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