Now, it's different. Your prescriptions are not nearly as delicious. You keep your head down as you walk to the real pharmacy with that same note, still a scribble but it's pen and it's real. Of course there's still that fear that some drug-addicted pharmacist has taken your pills.
When I am having a very bad day my favorite solution is to pop some pills and go to bed. Because if you don't have to face the problem there isn't one. But sometimes I have VERY bad days. Bad moments and everything just seems to suddenly fall apart. In those moments one or two pills won't cut it. In those moments the solution seems to be to just take enough Oxy or Trazadone or Prozac, hell just combine them, to put me in a lovely coma for a week or so. Not enough to kill myself of course, just to get a break. Besides, what could go wrong?
Ummm, everything.
I could miscalculate and end up killing myself, and I would hate that. If it didn't manage to go that far I could do irreparable damage to vital organs. And then there's what happens after I wake up. I would wake up probably chained to a bed in a padded cell. After all only crazy people take that many pills.
I hate that these thoughts come. They scare me and of course my first instinct is to tell somebody. So I email my therapist in panic mode. Which only succeeds in making her panic and telling me that if I'm serious she has to file a 51/50. Automatic 72 hour psych hold.
Obviously I haven't followed through. I'm scared. And doing so would mean a major loss of control and I can't have that.
So I just stick to my prescriptions and take them as recommended. Mostly.
After all, a pill (or two) a day keeps the demons away.
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