#messageinabottleproject

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Not Worth The Side-Effects

Not worth the side effects.

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Prozac Time This bottle once contained Prozac from the Walmart pharmacy. It’s for my dog. We give him human Prozac because it is cheaper than animal Prozac and it’s the same thing (minus the beef flavouring). We don’t want our dog to be on meds, but he’s a rescue and he’s terribly anxious and he used to bite people and go after other dogs. We’ve spent hundreds and hundreds (probably thousands but I don’t like to think about it) of dollars on trainers and classes. We were so afraid he would harm someone and they would take him away form us, so when the vet suggested meds, we figured it was worth a try. Every night I shake the bottle and say “Prozac time” and he comes running into the kitchen. I pry open his mouth and put the pill far back enough that he has to swallow it. I give him some kind of treat: a scrap leftover from dinner — whatever crackers are open in the cupboard. Sometimes I even give him a dog treat. It’s just part of the bedtime routine. When I tell people they think I’m joking, and I admit, I usually say it to get a laugh. But in truth, I think it’s pretty fucked up that the cat is the only creature in my house who is not on medication, and I wonder if I’m the biggest sucker in the world.

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Every Single Needle

I’ve had Type 1 Diabetes since I was 9 years old and I hate it. I hate taking needles and bloodtests. I say they’re no big deal, that they don’t hurt, but they do. Every single needle, every single time, multiple times a day, every day. I hate that no matter how careful I am with my sugars I’m still guaranteed to suffer the ill-effects of diabetes. I’m immunocompromised, my vision is and will continue to deteriorate, every pregnancy was high-risk and both of my babies were born hypoglycemic. I hate seeing specialists and having bloodwork done. I hate feeling weak, shaky and scared when my sugar is low and i hate feeling sick and exhausted when my sugar is high.

I hate that I have diabetes, but I am very fortunate that injectable insulin is available to me. I might not be alive today if it wasn’t.

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Doing great!

I am nine years old. My medication was meant to help me with my anxiety, and it sure does! Before I started taking these meds, I was having a lot of meltdowns. I even had to go to the hospital because I thought bad things of myself, but not anymore! Thanks to this medication, I’m doing great!

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Hiding the Best I Can This is a medication I have been on for more than eleven years. I have chronic depression and decided to start using meds to help treat it after struggling with episodes increasing in severity for four years. I was not told at the time that this was one of the more physically addictive anti-depressants on the market and now, more than a decade later, I’m feeling like it is losing effectiveness but am scared to get my doctors to help me change meds because of how terrible it feels to miss even one dose. 

This one is my most expensive medication but I’m on some others for my congenital hypothyroidism, and am now also using a CPAP machine for sleep apnea. A survivor and a people pleaser, I try to go to work at my retail job (no benefits for medical stuff!) each shift while hiding as best I can my multiple chronic health issues. Customers perceive me to be a friendly, upbeat and energetic person. 

 I’m really struggling right now with feelings of worthlessness and failure. I’ve got an appointment with a new psychiatrist (this scares me!) in a month and a half to talk about how I could perhaps change meds. Hoping that helps me out!”

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To Be Well “I need medication to be well.

 I hate having to say so to people who don’t also suffer from mental illness. They usually don’t understand why I “need” a medication to regulate my mood. But I do - and I’ve struggled long and hard to accept that. I’m thankful that there is medication that allows me to be well.”

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Little Did We Know I found this half-empty bottle and I had no recollection of taking this medication. Only by looking at the date I remembered how anxious I was when my wife Alla and I were expecting our boy, so my doctor decided to help me with this anti-anxiety medication. Little did we know that it would be of no use when my wife had a heart failure two weeks later, went into coma, and died on Christmas day.

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It Takes Strength “About ten years ago, I finally admitted to myself I couldn’t do it alone anymore. I walked into CAMH and asked for help. Over the subsequent months, I was diagnosed with OCD and depression, and was prescribed citalopram. I was lucky; the first medication prescribed did the job nicely. But about two years ago, I noticed I was struggling again. After it was determined to not be related to another health condition, I began racking my symptoms more closely and began to suspect it was PMDD. I got referred to a specialist earlier this year and she confirmed my suspicions. It’s a mild case, but “mild” is potentially debilitating at times. Without medication I can sleep for up to 18 or more hours a day (12-14 is average), and I have several days a month where thoughts of suicide crowd out all else. With medication, I still feel blue andmenstr draggy but that’s a hundred times better than unmedicated. My medications combined cost me almost $14 a day, but that’s small compared to the wages I was losing to my illness. 

 The first time I asked for help, it took me nearly 20 years to ask, in large part because I didn’t want to be someone who needs medication to be “normal”. The second time only took so long because I was waiting on a referral, and I was afraid to switch to a medication that might do worse instead of better.

 To anyone who knows deep down that they could use a hand, ask. Don’t wait as long as I did. You deserve to really live, and taking medication is noting to be ashamed of. It takes strength to admit weakness.”