Big Pharma

As much as I have problems with "big pharma" and profiting on necessary medications and life saving treatments, I also have so many problems with people who try to tell me that they're just pumping me full of poison, or that I should boycott big pharma.  I don't think they understand just how much I need the SSRIs I take every morning.  And when I say I need them, I don't mean I'd die without their presence in my body (though I would go through serious physical ramifications if I were to suddenly stop without properly titrating off of them, many SSRIs affect cardiac nerves).  However, I would go back to the very poor life style I had before starting them.

I need my antidepressants to get out of bed in the morning. I need them to will myself to eat.  I need them to convince myself to do all the basic things necessary to support my own life.

I haven't been poisoned, it isn't all in my mind, and I'm not addicted.

I'm sick.

It took me a long time to come to that conclusion, and I still struggle with reminding myself that I'm allowed to have bad days, I'm allowed to have down days.  But I stopped my medication for a while, and I was reminded just how bad it was before.  I was reminded of the time my partner tried to get me to go on a walk around the neighborhood.  The second my house was out of view I burst into tears, I was panicking, and I needed to go back to bed....where I'd been for three days straight.  I stopped getting up but to go to the bathroom.  I slept more than I've ever slept in my life, including when I was a baby.  I ate only what I was coerced to eat.  I interacted with netflix more than my family and friends.  I wasn't just sad, I was completely desolate. And more than anything, I was terrified.

Every time I had to do something real, something "adult", something more than pissing, sleeping, or eating, I'd go into a panic.  I would cry, and gasp for breath, have to fight with every inch of my body not to curl into a ball or collapse on the floor.  I felt like a mummy, as if someone had removed all the organs from my body, and I was filled with air, dirty, dark, air.  Everything was dread.

This happened when three of my friends wanted to celebrate my birthday with me in a low key way, being very understanding of my mental state.

I can't go back to that.  I have so much to detangle and yet feel so empty and flat, but at the same time, I can function.  I can see my friends, and smile, and talk to them.  I can actually get out of bed with only a few minutes of pep talk, instead of hours ultimately resulting in me staying put.  I can enjoy food, and showers, and getting dressed.  I can be a human again, a real person.

So don't tell me that I am being poisoned, don't tell me you understand, don't tell me you've been depressed before and that the drugs just fucked you up more.

You've never been me before, and you can't know what I've been through, nor can I know what you've been through.