A few thoughts on Medication and Madness

I went out for an evening walk and near the end my mind started muttering about a few things, so here, this one's for you.

[this post has been flagged for potential miss-in(g)-formation,

please question your answers]

A couple of weeks ago I began to wean off one of the anxiety/depression meds I have been taking (I met with my doctor, I asked the questions, I'm following their directions and you should too).

I have been on some kind of chemically supported sanity since 2009. At that time I was in a spiral of existential instability, at BIBLE COLLEGE, f(l)ailing (in some ways) and succeeding (to get a short-lived M.R.S.). Things had gotten to such a state that my mind seemed to be perpetually on all alerts. It was the emotional version of a security siren sending hot red bands of bright lights through the hallways of my every thought, with all the distorted effect of the doppler of the ambulance wail.

We found a means through a daily pill and some therapeutic work tantamount to training wheels to slow some of its more exaggerated effects. I'm grateful for that. But it's been a good 15 years since I didn't have their supportive hand beneath the swings of my internal mood.

I've been thinking about that movie with Zach Braff that my generation seemed to resonate so much with. The scene I've been thinking about is the one where he attends a party and in a particularly striking montage, the world and all its characters zoom around him at hyper-speed while he stays affix'd in one place, unable to feel what is happening around him.

I've never actually felt that way. There's even a good chance my medically assisted sanity doesn't have the same "numbness" that the media likes to portray these things with.

But I've been doing a lot of reading and writing around finding some kind of balance between body and mind. Trying to re-friend my inner world. Part of that is finding a way to exist with my anxiety as a partner and not some hidden enemy within. The thing is. Medication is wonderful. Pain can be a brutally indifferent and paralyzing experience (physically, mentally or psychologically). But I've wondered sometimes if I couldn't find a better balance.

If I had headaches every day, I could deal with them by taking a bit of ole Ibuprofin. But if I had headaches every day, maybe my body is trying to tell me that something I'm doing (or not doing) is causing my body harm. (Note: a headache is not the same as anxiety/depression, please do not misunderstand me, I'm just making a comparative example)

I want to believe that at its root my anxiety or depression is well intentioned. My body is a complex network of self-regulating and self-healing magic. I believe that anxiety, at its root, is the self attempting to preserve or protect you. But, like a broken sensor on a vehicle, can at times produce signals of concern that are not helpful or accurate.

I do think that at times these pains can come on so suddenly, these gusts of fear or weaknesses of hope can be such that medication becomes the tool to alleviate its oppression so that the need at its source can be attended to. (perhaps with a side of therapy, or fries)

I know how quickly the moods of the mind can shift. It's not unlike the weather. (In both good and bad ways). How different is a night in a stormy gale to the quiet sunrise of morning? Or on a cloudless afternoon, a quick shift in patterns finds clouds coming on over-cast and a scattering of rain ruins your picnic in the sun.

All that said. I'm hoping, over the next season, to find a place of compassion with my worried heart. Find ways to listen to its pleas, while not allowing it to slam the panic button and send my heart rate into a race. I want to care for my body and allow it to care for me.

Maybe I'll find a new richer way of being and feeling. Maybe I'll taper off and spiral out, and hopefully, I'll have the humility to acknowledge the help I need. (for I am often poor, and regularly needy).

Either way. It's all part of this wild world of medical advancements, and human adaptation. But the world has also grown complicated beyond any past awareness. How do we find our place in it all?

PS - I say all this so that if you have felt like perhaps you should be supported by some kind of medicated means, hey! I'm Joel and I've been saved many times by its compassionate hand. Don't be too tough for the stuff. I also say all this to suggest, that if you're feeling like "all of it is a bit too much" consider the help that a therapist, counsellor or trusted friend can perhaps provide. If you're feeling anxiety or depression, your body is trying to care for you, it might not be doing a great job of it, it might be telling you it's the end of the world when you really just need more sleep and a sandwich. But it also might be telling you that you're neglecting yourself, that you're being pulled too thin, stretched too wide. Reach out! You are not alone even if that's how you're feeling.