When I was a teenager, I wasn't self-aware enough to really pay attention to how my meds were affecting me. I just knew when I was miserable and when I was a little better. My psychiatrist was kind of awful, but he was the only one in town. We tried a few different medications. One day I was reading in the DSM and thought a particular paragraph in the bipolar section might describe something I experienced from time to time. I told him about it and he didn't even ask me more questions, he just let me diagnose myself (at age 14 or so) and gave me a medication for it. That medication caused me to sleep away a couple of years of my life. My record was 22 hours straight, awake for two hours, and then asleep for 13 more. And it was a medication that required regular blood tests to make sure my liver was still functioning. Every single mental health professional I've talked to since then (and there have been upwards of a dozen) has said that there was absolutely no way I have bipolar disorder. Eventually I quit seeing that psychiatrist and quit taking me medication and I was fine for a while. Until I wasn't.
My next psychiatrist was fantastic. I had come home from an awful first semester of college and was really devastated, but she really listened to me and talked to me and worked through all my medication concerns with me. By this time I was around 18 and quite a bit more able to monitor how I was feeling and what was helping. I ended up on a combination of two antidepressants (the first one alone made me anxious, but both of them together were a perfect combo), and I took them for a couple of years. They worked pretty well. Until they didn't.
After that, I don't even remember how the journey worked out. Over the course of the years, I tried a LOT of different medications in a lot of different combos. Paxil, Prozac, Lexapro, Celexa, Wellbutrin, Depakote, Adderall, Stratera, Lamictal, Xanax, Clonazapam, Gabapentin, Remiron, Ambien, and Abilify. And I've probably forgotten some. There have been a lot of times where things were great. Until they weren't.
See, what you need to know is that the medication journey will never end for me. We find something that works for a few years, and then it becomes less and less effective until some sort of major stress hits and I'm back at square one. But I can not survive without medication. I need you to understand that. I need you to understand that I would be dead without medication. I am being completely serious and very literal here. My brain has a disease, and it just doesn't function without treatment. It's like how a diabetic needs insulin to stay alive. I need medication to stay alive. And I'm ok with that.
It can be a really frustrating journey. It is devastating every time my medication stops working, because I know how long it takes to get back on track. It is weeks, sometimes months before things get better. And I'm always scared that we won't find the next magic combo. At one point a few years ago my doctor told me that we were on our last option. You see, there are only so many classes of drugs and combinations you can try and we have tried them all. We're still on that final option with dosage tweaks and supporting medications along the way. It's really scary. But it's worth the fight.
The moral of the story is this: medication is hard. It's not the magic fix you hope it's going to be, and it can get discouraging when it takes a long time to find what works. But it's so worth it. It's worth the struggle every time I hear my nieces laugh or share a dorky moment with my husband. I'm writing this for me too, because it really doesn't feel like it's worth it sometimes and I need a reminder. Looking back from a healthier place, I assure you; it's worth it.