“I’m getting sick of this. I bet if we did a poll right now, nobody else would be doing what you’re doing. You’re not acting like a normal person. It’s as if you’ve given up”.
I sat on my bed, laptop balanced on my legs, and wondered if my mother would really put money on my abnormality. She’s not the betting kind – she’s free of any vices unless you can count chocolate – so I’d guess not, but it still struck me as somewhat insensitive. I never act like a normal person; surely she’s used to it by now? I tried to concentrate on the screen as she carried on, determined to ignore anything negative.
“If you carry on like this, I’m calling the psychiatric unit“.
Last week, she threw this old gem at me – a claim she’s been making since my teens – because I was shouting. Admittedly, I’ve been shouting a lot recently, and there’s no doubt it’s making me look entirely crazy; especially when I’m slamming doors like an angsty teenager and bursting into tears for no reason. My emotions have been running all over the place for a couple of weeks now, and having my mother remind me that I’m not part of “normal” society really doesn’t help.
This was always going to be the risk I took by starting on Lyrica. The side-effects read like a list of psychiatric disorders, and my GP warned me that I was likely to experience more anxiety and depression if I took them. What can you do though when faced with both physical and mental illness? You take those risks because otherwise you’d never get anywhere; unfortunately most medications seem to end in a cycle of side-effects and more pills to calm those down. Some may say that scrapping the meds would be the ideal answer. If only life were that black and white.
Lyrica works. It works better than I ever imagined, and being able to do simple things like lifting my arms above my head has done a lot to improve things for me emotionally. I can stand up for more than a couple of minutes now; a few months ago, I had to sit down almost permanently. However, that freedom has come at a huge price, and I’m starting to worry a little.
I should be writing about S’s bithday celebrations – he turned thirty on Thursday – but instead I’m panicking over nothing, and putting off completing this post because I know it’ll all sound ridiculous. I feel selfish; I’m here complaining about my problems and haven’t made any effort to reply to comments or read other blogs. I mean, I have made the effort, but couldn’t write anything. Or even take anything in.
- In the Age of Anxiety, are we all mentally ill? (talesfromthelou.wordpress.com)
- 30 Day Blog Challenge – Day 18: Something I Miss (quitthecure.com)
- What Is Normal? (pukirahe.wordpress.com)
- What’s Wrong With People These Days? (undeadinfinity.wordpress.com)
- No Meaningful Relationship (kimberlydefined.wordpress.com)
- Step Outside of “Normal” (momentumofjoy.com)
- Are you holding onto a security blanket? (eliseonlife.wordpress.com)