By the Author / Source: abuaram.site
I believe psychiatric medications are still essential for me; without them, my condition would be catastrophic. In fact, I wouldn’t be able to think clearly, I’d have no sex drive, I wouldn’t be able to sleep, nor would I have any energy for the next day. I would never be a functioning person. Day by day, I would grow sicker; I would break down, and I might cause harm to myself and to those around me without my medication.
During my teenage years, before I had ever taken them, I was somewhat ill, but I was still capable of living, holding on, and adapting to my illness to a degree. However, after becoming dependent on them, my mind could no longer survive without them—without them, it becomes profoundly sick. I slip into severe psychosis; I want to keep going out, drinking alcohol, and frequenting dangerous places. My state becomes truly pitiable.
I am simply unable to quit these medications peacefully or even imagine a fresh start without them. Stopping them is an extraordinarily complex, even disastrous issue for me, as my mind becomes severely ill. I have tried to quit many times, but I could never endure it. What happens to my mind and soul without them is truly brutal.
I have always longed for a new beginning without them, to carry on with my life unmedicated. It feels as though they are stealing something precious from my life, and that life would be better without them. I look at people who have never taken them and live without them, and I feel there is something invaluable waiting for me in a life without medication. But perhaps I am mistaken; perhaps this is just a false illusion, and I am actually better off with them—for what kind of life would it be otherwise? Leaving them behind has become impossible for me. I cannot succeed at it, and trying only wastes more time, destroying my life and dragging it to a very dark place.
Despite the severity of what used to happen to me whenever I stopped my medication, I still felt something wonderful—a kind of euphoria, a pleasurable high in perceiving this world through my mind. I was deeply ill, in pain, and unable to function, yet in those brutal moments, I managed to grasp a exquisite sense of pleasure in feeling and awareness. Everything was incredible, yet everything cruel was present as well. There was pain, and an inability to maintain control. There was pain, but in those moments, I also felt that pure euphoria of feeling.
Perhaps I am delusional, imagining pleasurable and beautiful things born out of the raw liberation from these drugs. Were those wonderful things I felt actually rooted in the depths of madness—the pleasure of psychosis? Was I simply insane, faring poorly, but enjoying it like an addict enjoying a fix, continuously harming myself without realizing I was in a terrible, life-threatening place, dangerous to myself and those around me? There is no peace or stability in fighting such a battle just to snatch a fleeting pleasure, while everything in my mind, soul, and life deteriorates.
Why can’t my mind function properly without them anymore? Is the problem in the medications themselves, or does my mind grow sicker as I age? I wasn’t sick like this in my teens, when I had never taken them, and I was able to live without them. But after falling into their trap and trying to break free, I couldn’t endure it for long. How could I, when stepping into that battle means entering a realm of pure torment—a brutal toll on my mind, my soul, and my life in every aspect?
Ultimately, medication remains necessary for survival; without it, we might face far harsher realities. It doesn’t matter if I can’t cry while on it, nor do all the wonderful things we might possess without it matter, because we simply won’t survive or be able to hold onto those wonderful experiences outside the boundary of these medications. You aren’t forced to stick to a specific drug; there are good medications in this world. If a drug proves ineffective after a period of treatment, set it aside. You can find the right medication for you, just as I found mine.
If we genuinely feel capable of quitting our medication, or if we are truly confident that we will be fine and able to build a new life without it, then let us leave it behind. Though, frankly, I doubt anyone can successfully do so. In the end, it often turns out to be a brutal, destructive gamble. Besides, daily responsibilities await each of us every single day. We cannot afford the risk of abandoning our medication amidst all these responsibilities and the people who care about us and need us. It is unfair to subject those we love, and who love us back, to such an experiment.
Unless you find a truly safe opportunity to break free from these medications—and unless you are mistaken about needing them in the first place—do not even think about embarking on the journey of quitting them.
