Silent Screaming

I've always envisioned my brain—well, my sentient self anyway—as a council. I see my inner selves sitting around a giant oak table with different drinks in front of each one. Becky #1 drinks ice cold milk. Becky #2, a pint of beer. Becky #3, piping hot espresso.Becky #4, vodka from the freezer.

You get the point.

All of these Beckys get together and talk about things we need to do. They debate about how I should behave and what I should say. Sometimes, one wins out and sometimes, a different one will.

Today, I feel like three or four of my council members are sitting down and crying hysterically. The other people at the table are upset about how they're behaving, except for one or two of us who are just pissed off. The babies should stop crying and start problem solving.

Other Beckys are pacing, constantly thinking about the overwhelming number of things that I have to do in the next six months. As they roam back and forth, they annoy other people sitting at the table.

Well, except for the one Becky gazing out over the table like no one else exists.

There's a leader in all of this. She watches everyone else and tries to negotiate a compromise between the Beckys so that I can know how to feel. But today, she's losing. The Beckys don't want to compromise and so nothing gets done. When the council is deadlocked or particularly disagreeable, I can't do all that much about it.

*********

I'm feeling subversive and slightly self-destructive today. I'm debating about the logic behind staying on some of my meds that I've been on for a long time. If they aren't working by now, they aren't going to work. I'm sick of putting crap in my body when I'm not getting any kind of clear benefit from taking it.

Logically, a voice in my head is screaming at me, telling me that crazy people always stop taking their meds and it's a mistake. I suppose I should listen to that voice and I probably will. But I've never been so tempted to stop taking my meds before.

I'm sad. These meds suck. I hate withdrawing from this crap, but I'm sick of taking this stuff that isn't helping me. I know I should wait for my doctor to tell me what to do, but he doesn't have to live like I do every freakin day. I'm the one who pops these pills in the morning and deals with their stupid side-effects. I'm the one who suffers when they don't work. And damn, I'm the one who should have the ultimate choice about what I put in my body.

So it begins. The constant temptation to stop medicating, the sneaking suspicion that life would be a bit more fun without any meds at all.

It's a damn lucky fact of life that I'm overwhelmingly practical and sensible somewhere deep down.

I'll be the obedient guinea pig for another day.

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