Fear - Part 2
This was something I never expected. I knew that the medication was going to affect me and change me—but not to this degree. I imagined that the change would be gradual, seeing as how the psychiatrist said I was being put on a very low dosage as a starter. Now that I had accidentally forgotten to take them this weekend, it’s almost terrifying to see how different I acted last week.
For the first time in two weeks or so, I was happy today. Not because something in particular happened—my brain allowed for me to be happy, so I just took advantage of it. I felt, once again, powerful, effective and confident. Something I thought was missing during the period I was taking the medication. It actually helped me break this issue to my roommates. I had always thought that this would affect how they see me, but apparently they could already tell. They were rather supportive. Something about this actually comforts me.
Of course, now I have a new issue to deal with. The medication that was recommended for me among the options presented was the only one that was unlikely to kill or break me. Perhaps, after more tests, they will figure out something less dramatic that will help my situation. However, for the time being, I am once again reluctant about the whole idea. I hoped that knowing something about the changes will actually help me go along with it—but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.
One thing that particularly bothered me during that week (besides that weird depressive mood) was that the violent fantasies were still there. The reason I was put on an anti-manic first was because, at the time, I appeared to fall to rather blunt and grotesque corners of my imagination. As mania usually encourages people to act out their fantasies, it seemed to be something that needed prevention. However, if what I experienced last week is true, then perhaps it’s not the up-swing that gives me ideas.
Even worse, I didn’t have the random impulses to distract me. The fantasies had gotten rather elaborate and detailed. They actually became easier to act out.
I will have to see where it all goes. As you might have noticed, I am still at the mercy of my neurochemicals—I seem to have typed many words but I am not sure what I am trying to say. Words are falling out of my mouth and it’s kind of exhilarating. Anyways, it was only a week—it could be something that my body will take time to get used to. Though, I don’t know. I was… afraid and weak through the whole week. Now that I have confidence again, I don’t know if I have the confidence to lose that.
The mild disgust and abhorrence is enough to exhilarate me to the point that I feel like I’m masturbating my soul, just waiting to ejaculate.
I’m afraid of this pill. I know that it’s going to protect me from fits of mania and I won’t have to go through explosions of emotions, but that’s because I will be sad and weak for the next 24 hours. Nothing will hold me except for my own reminders saying “This is for the better.”
Strange thing is that I haven’t even taken this pill yet. Would I be this afraid every night if I didn’t know about its neurochemical mechanisms and side effects?
Mum always said that painkillers turned the brain matter to mush (translated from Korean: painkillers caused schizophrenia.)