Two weeks ago I found myself sitting on my bathroom floor, hearing things, seeing things, and planning my suicide.
Did that sentence scare you? Yeah, it scared me, too.
A month and a half ago I saw new doctor. To rule out some concerns, she did a slew of tests and scans and found out a possible reason for some issues I’ve been experiencing. In an effort to fix the problem she prescribed a medication I really did not want to be on – birth control. I took it for nearly ten years of my life, some of those years with awful side effects, and didn’t want to do it all again. But she was certain it was going to be beneficial, and I only needed to be on it for a month. So, with hesitation, I agreed.
Two days later I couldn’t focus. I was experiencing migraines. My head felt empty and I generally felt out of sorts. Five days later I was depressed, anxious, numb, and still experiencing migraines. A week after I was hungry all the time, still dealing with migraines, barely able to drive or work or read, and almost as depressed as I was three years ago.
I could hardly function at an overnight party for my friend. Alcohol seemed to increase the discomfort. I called my doctor and she said the hormones just need to level out. Drink a lot of water, eat well, rest.
A handful of people knew what was going on and everyone was concerned. But no one understood the intense sadness and numbness I was experiencing. Everything felt bleak and hopeless and every time I took another pill I felt my world getting darker and darker.
A little over two weeks ago I began hearing things; voices whispering and then yelling. I started seeing things. That’s when my world really began to implode.
I called the doctor again. She said that this can sometimes happen, but remember that the hormones will level out and my body will get used to it.
Two weeks ago today I spent the morning sobbing so hard I thought my eyes would fall out of my head. I was exhausted, confused.
And then I went into a complete psychosis.
I began hallucinating, sweating, slurring my speech, and thinking and acting irrationally. The ceiling was falling and the walls were inching towards me and I couldn’t make sense of why I was still living.
I had a bottle of untouched pain pills in my house (I never used them when I was dealing with bursitis in December, since I hate taking medication at all). I could take the bottle and finish it with whatever was in the liquor cabinet.
It was a solution. It was a plan. It was going to happen.
Then, the dog wandered in and sat on top of me, licking my face incessantly. I sort of came to and realized what had just transpired.
I immediately took a shower.
I said nothing to anyone until that Sunday afternoon. I stopped taking the pill Monday morning.
I called my doctor and shared what happened. She felt horrible and told me it was the right thing to do. We would figure out another way to fix things. Until then, I needed to let the medication get out of my system.
I grappled with sharing this experience. It’s deeply personal, immensely confusing, and even embarrassing, but with so much happening in the news right now regarding suicide, I felt it was necessary.
First and foremost, if a medication is fucking with your wellbeing, it is NOT the right medication and you do NOT need to be on it. Get off. Get healthy. Take care of yourself because you’re the only one who can truly do that. You are valuable and worthy and no pill is worth losing yourself over. Ever.
Second, doctors do not always know everything. She knew my medical history, but not all of the important details of my mental health history. I do wish she gave me the okay to get off earlier, but I don’t blame her. Every body reacts differently.
Third, suicide is NEVER something to joke about. Aaron Hernandez does not deserve your shitty memes or shitty one-liners. He was a murderer, but he was a human. He’s left behind a little girl who will forever miss her daddy and that is fucking sad. When you crack jokes about suicide, you enable the stigma of mental illness. You become part of the problem.
It’s been eleven days since I stopped taking the pill and I’m no longer feeling suicidal or depressed. I’m not as hungry, I’m just as tired, and I’m still entirely numb. I’m also beginning to sort out my shock for what happened. I’m an excellent faker, so if you think all looks well and I’m probably fine, I’m not, but I will be eventually. I don’t need coddling. I don’t need criticism. I do need understanding and support. It has taken absolutely everything out of me to write this, but it’s important and it could help someone else who may be in the middle of something similar. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since starting this blog, it’s that connection is invaluable and transparency is the beginning of that.
Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Call someone and get help. Fight until you get answers.
Suicide Hotline: 1-800-273-8255 // https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org