The beauty of antipsychotics, my happy pills.
On my Bipolar Disorder medication journey and what life has been like while medicated again.
There are many misconceptions and much stigma surrounding antipsychotic and antidepressant medications. One of the most prominent is the belief that they will mask your emotions and make you a zombified version of yourself. I believed that for years and avoided medication because of it. That decision almost cost me my life numerous times. Suicidal ideations increased, as my will to live decreased.
I foolishly did not want to depend on a pill for my happiness and for sure didn’t want to become a shell of myself. One of the compliments I receive most often is that my personality is like sunshine and I did not want to chance dimming my light in any way. Not feeling much of anything at all seemed like a worse fate than feeling everything intensely. That is, until feeling everything intensely became too great of a burden to continue carrying.
Feeling like I had tried everything in my power to get well, I started my medication journey back in 2018. I finally accepted that no amount of dieting, exercising, traveling, or therapy was going to alter my brain chemistry enough to make me happy.
The journey.
Including the three I take now, I have tried a combination of nine different antipsychotics and antidepressants to help regulate my moods.
I was initially misdiagnosed as having Major Depressive Disorder because depression is what’s prevalent for me. I was put on an antidepressant that worked wonderfully until it didn’t. For someone who has Bipolar Disorder taking only an antidepressant without an accompanying antipsychotic or mood stabilizer is a recipe for disaster. The frequency and intensity of my manic moods increased and intensified until one day I was convinced that I could fly. Luckily, I was in touch with reality enough to know not to try. There are so many accidental suicides that happen because of the grandiose thoughts mania and medication can induce.
While it is a frustrating journey to find the right medications and doses, I know that the decision to do so has saved my life and I want anyone hesitant to try medication to know that it might save yours as well.
Unmedicated
Early last year I decided to stop my medication. This is usually a no-no, and I do not recommend ever stopping your medication without consulting your providers. But for me, bad mental healthcare is worse than no mental healthcare. I quit my job and was unemployed longer than I intended to be so I no longer had access to my health insurance. On top of that, I was under the care of a psychiatrist who I felt no longer listened to me and therefore could not prescribe the right medication for me. At the time, I was taking Lithium which needs frequent blood tests to ensure there is no other harm being done to my organs as a result of taking it. I was already on a high dose and it was no longer effective for me so I weaned myself off and went unmedicated.
When I am not medicated, my baseline is depression. I am sad more often than not. The depth of sadness fluctuates but stability is rarely a thing. Occasionally, I hit hypomania. Sometimes it’s the fun “get everything on my to-do list done on little-to-no sleep AND clean my entire apartment” mania. Other times I experience it as a mixed episode of depression and mania where extreme agitation, racing thoughts, hyper-fixations, and ideations take over my mind.
Last year was brutal. I experienced so much loss and that included constantly feeling like I was losing my mind. As a result, I isolated as much as I could and did not engage much outside of social media and minimal virtual connections. Trying to interact with other humans while rapid-cycling between debilitating depression and alarming mania was a pain, so I avoided doing so as much as possible. My brain moved too fast for my words to catch up to sometimes. I talked too much, maybe too loud—and don’t you dare try to get a word in. I was sad, angry, quick to react, and bitter because of how I felt and I didn’t want to be around humans making me feel worse.
Currently
I have been officially back on antipsychotic medication for three months now. My current cocktail is an antipsychotic, an anti-anxiety, and a sleep-aid.
I am now experiencing prolonged stability. It’s exhilarating to experience consistent moods and a calm mind for the first time in years. It’s hard to adjust to sometimes. I saw somewhere posted on social media that “it’s like getting to know a new brain.” That’s exactly what it feels like. I finally feel like myself again, if that’s a thing. Or maybe this is a new version of myself, I’ve had many. I don’t know, I’m just glad to finally be here.
I’m experiencing a world where my highs aren’t chaotic and my lows aren’t crushing. I feel like a normal human processing emotions and feelings. I’m handling conflicts and setbacks reasonably and rationally. I can trust my thoughts and behavior. I’m more patient. More fun and easier to be around. And I’m moving my body more now that I don’t feel so heavy.
I feel like I am living instead of feeling like life is happening to me.
It’s so surreal.
I’m grateful to be alive, excited even. I look forward to the future and actually think about it with great anticipation now. I haven’t been depressed in months. And I’ve had no ideations or desires to leave from here. And even though I’ve had some sad times, I’ve processed them without breaking down completely.
It’s bittersweet, though. I grieve for all the versions of myself who needed this stability. And I grieve all of the things she could’ve accomplished had she not constantly battled a war in her mind. That’s the dying over-achiever in me trying to cling to life by any means, though.
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The medication battle can be brutal. I have witnessed many sides of it. Both autistic sons are on an antipsychotic along with lithium, mostly because of agitation, and depression. My youngest also takes gabapentin to help with anxiety and sleep. Two years ago, he gradually titrated off of abilify because of weight gain and shit hit the fan. He suddenly dropped out of all classes. He was angry and resented me and his father because he needed us financially. He became aggressive and had suicidal ideation.
His doctors made lots of tweaks that made things worse. He fired 3 different doctors. Finally he did his own research and decided to go back to abilify. To me, he does seemed supressed. I see very little joy or laughter. I don't like it. Neither does he, but he's afraid to make any drastic changes. He's not truly bipolar. He has no extreme highs from mania. He never has. It's all so confusing. I hate it!
I am happy that he is making his own decisions and advocating for himself with his current doctor. He's working as a Mental Health Peer Specialist because of his lived experience. He's stable. He has such a beautiful mind. He is one of my greatest joys.
I've had my personal battles with meds as well.
I am fascinated by your story. Thank you for sharing. I am so happy to read about your progress in the past few months. Keep writing!
Maybe we should collaborate on something.
Much love, Karen
I battled the stigma within myself of taking medication while in crisis during grad school. The shame and secrecy felt like an added weight on top of the spiral I was already in. It felt like I was admitting defeat and made me think of myself as weak. I eventually saw it for exactly what it was - a tool to buoy me to wellbeing. Nothing more, nothing less. There's courage in owning and naming things for what they are. As always, thank you for your vulnerability and willingness to share. I have no doubt your candor is saving lives.