Tiny tiny little pills that have caused a big big argument in my brain.
I started taking a 25mg dose of these pills just over a year ago to help me cope with mild anxiety and pretty chronic insomnia. Two months and no extra sleep later I was up to a 50mg dose of the magic Christmas pills, and I was finally getting some sleep, and some calm, which was kind of pretty awesome. I was still getting down days, and angry days, but mostly I was doing ok-ish. Not ok, but ok-ish.
And now, here we are, the new pills. 75mg dose. The point of no return. The "it's not just helping you sleep anymore" pills. The "you're one pill away from totally loony" pills.
And the thing in my head is, is taking these me being weak, because I'm not coping, or is this me being strong because I know me well enough to know I'm not coping and I need help.
I'm kinda really mad at myself that I'm even considering this a sign of weakness. I've lived with mental illness all my life. My sister has it, my father has it, I have it. I know that mental illness is nothing to be ashamed of, I know that, I really really do. But the thing is, I'm the good one. I'm the strong one. I'm the one that had a career, and a nice house, and all the good toys. I'm the one that does the right thing, and spends all day in hospital if you've had an accident, I'm reliable.
And in my head, because my sister is none of things, because of her illness, taking these pills makes me unreliable. Like her.
I know, I know, I'm not her, I'm nothing like her, but no matter how hard I try to convince myself of that, I can't make it stick.
But still, I followed the white rabbit, I took the red pill, let's see what's on the other side of the Matrix...
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