I stared at the bottles of pills for twenty minutes.
Could I really do this again? Had I gone too long pretending I didn't need it?
In a Xanax induced state from the previous night, I sighed heavily beginning to read the labels and side effects.
Words I was all too familiar with.
I had meds off and on before, but I didn't like how they worked with me. I kept the Xans, as immediate for panic attacks and the anxiety thought loops.
I didn't use them too often until I started therapy to heal.
It was like I opened my own pandoras box. Learning what boundaries were and taking away those intense emotions with EMDR. A life saver for a fucked up human like me. It is what it is. Trauma does that to you.
Eventually, it became more bearable as I looked inside the shambles of my soul.
It took me a long time to realize I had the power the whole time. Instead, I let people take these pieces of me away until I am left to rebuild again. It's different every time, disguised with good intentions.
I stayed away from meds but the Xanax. I was careful not to get addicted.
2020 and on hit, and my brain was rewired again. Then I moved and got myself into the mental health field. My brain was still processing that I didn't want to be with my ex, but I couldn't move again. So I stayed. Stuck.
My creativity exploded, and I channeled my frustrations and emotions elsewhere in an environment I couldn't change yet.
Then, it started to pile up, and I began to realize that I was always in survival mode. I still am.
When you stop being there, your body can't distinguish.
The threats are no longer people, but words that hurt you or actions and lack of boundaries. The shit you fight for when you're healing.
One thing led to another, after leaving that environment, I thought maybe things would get better, and my brain and body would understand that we are okay.
No, turns out when you're finally out of the thick of it, you're left behind with these ruined pieces with a terrible response to stress.
So, here I am, debating with myself over fucking medication because of fear. I'd rather be a wreck than not feel anything at all or lose who I am st my core level.
Then, I thought back, the past few weeks where nothing worked anymore, and I stopped functioning in all aspects of my life.
Then, I started saying what I needed without fear anymore as my nerves light on fire. How I need those boundaries and some goddamn relief.
It is perfectly okay if it's chemically made.
I am giving it my best. It's okay to admit defeat and try all the options first.
Why did medication have to be so scary?
Remembering where I came from and who I am now... she needs to be taken care of in healthier ways. Her voice has always been silenced, in phases throughout her life.
Always an advocate for everyone else, but not myself. I'm a hypocrite, but you know what?
My younger self would be proud.
We are taking care of each other now.
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