So you know how I had horrible flutters last week, and my anxiety was pretty much in full flower?
Yeah, that may have been my fault.
I have this horrible habit of self-adjusting my anxiety & depression medication.
See, I want to believe that I don't need it, that I feel better and so naturally that means I can go down 25mg, because maybe I don't need these meds to feel good, maybe I can do it myself.
Spoiler alert: I need these meds.
I had just started going back to my normal prescribed dose when the flutter attacks started. Now I've been back for a week and...they're gone. It's also break and so my stress has been greatly reduced, but I'm pretty sure the bigger correlation is needlessly messing with my brain chemistry.
I first started taking medication for anxiety when I was at the tail end of my first marriage, and so I associated it with unhappiness. I resisted going on medication when going through infertility, and only when I hit crisis point four years ago did I submit to my body's need for extra regulation. I'm better when I'm medicated: I'm less gray, less neurotic, and only slightly less likely to doom spiral.
I need to make a sticker with this quote from Glennon Doyle's Untamed and put it on the inside of the kitchen cabinet door where I keep my meds:
"Going off meds because you feel better is jefe standing in a torrential rainstorm holding a trusty umbrella that is helping you dry and thinking: Wow. I'm so dry. It's probably time to get rid of this silly umbrella."
Good idea. Maybe I'll go put it on a post-it note and stick it on that door RIGHT NOW.
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