Wednesday, March 14, 2012

A Pill for Evil People

           Seriously though, a friend of mine, or should I say former friend, called me a drug addict because I take medication for Bipolar Disorder.  It was around the time Whitney Houston died.  And I thought to myself, wow, she thinks I'm like Whitney Houston?
             The ironic truth is, I could stop taking my pills, and collect them all, then end up in a bathtub dead one day from an overdose.  This could actually happen.  It won't.  But it could.
               The only thing stopping me from overdosing on my pills is my pills.  
            So what was I gonna do about this 'friend's' comment?  Cry about it? I can hardly cry anymore because of all the meds.  Sing about it Whitney style?  I definitely cannot do that, I'm not evil, I respect the sound of music.  Think, I had to think what would drive someone to be so ignorant.  No one would tell a heart patient to get off of their meds, have you seen how many meds heart patients take?  But with psychiatric drugs it's different.  Everyone has a theory.  It's easy for those that are uneducated in the matter to tout their notion that "it's all in your head."   
            Me and this friend were having an email war, we'll call her Judy, we were going back and forth about how our friendship had evaporated and then she said it, “In my eyes you are an addict.”  
            You know what, Judy, you are right, I am an addict.  I'm addicted to life, to sanity, to my very existence.  You see without medication, I'm an atom bomb with seven seconds on the clock.  With medication, I'm a dismantled bomb, one that can do no damage.
              Sure it sucks that some medications cause depression so bad you feel as though death might be better.  Or some cause euphoria so high that you think you really can survive that jump off a bridge.  They keep changing the medications on you, as if you are lab rat, waiting for your next cocktail.  
               So what?  So I have to take some pills everyday in order to be a sane human being.  There are other people who no pills can help.  My father for example is blind, and there is no pill for that.  
             They found a treatment, not a cure, for insanity.  I happen to have insanity.  I have to take pills in order to make sure it doesn't show.
           So am I crazy?  Sometimes I don't mind the term crazy.  Sometimes I hate it and want to hide from it.  But you see, I might be a tad bit crazy, but there are those who are crazier, the ones that are ACTUALLY crazy.  They are the ones starting the wars, or molesting small children, or trafficking young girls.  When they find a pill to end evil, then the human race will have really found it's true calling.  
            And let me tell you something, it is CRAZY to tell someone to stop taking medication that is saving their life.
             I know I was a mean little bitch when I wasn't on my meds, but I also know that there are those who are meaner.  There are those who will read this and judge me, and think that all I am is a disease.  That there is nothing at all much more to me than Manic Depression.
             Judy didn't know it, but she was playing with fire when she called me an addict.  She didn't know it, but she wanted me to question the very validity of my sanity.  What is sanity after all, you cannot experiment too much with it, or you might lose it.  
              I hear it's a bitch trying to get it back.  


  1. As a person that has known someone close to them deal with bipolar disorder much of their life, people's ignorance in regard to mental health immensely frustrates me. I really feel bad for this Judy person. Even after having been your friend, her mind remained so shallow.

    A disability or disorder of any kind does not define you as a person anymore than our body parts define who we are. It is the being, the personality, the soul, that makes a person who they are. Yes, certain disorders play games with that, but it is the medications that help the person retain their real selves and enjoy life with those dear to them. Sadly, there seems to be no way for anyone to ever understand any of this, without having personally known and experienced someone close to them bear such a disorder in their life.

    May God have mercy on the souls of these ignorant beings and gracefully enlighten them at some point in their lives.