“Laughter is the best medicine”. I can’t argue with that. Laughter is at the core of some of my most precious memories. Those moments when you suddenly start sniggering to yourself courtesy of your brain deciding to bring that moment to your attention for absolutely no reason at all, often at the most inappropriate time, in the most inappropriate place. Maybe your brain knows you needed to smile.
Laughter isn’t always there though. It sometimes hides away, that last bit of candy in the piñata. No matter how hard you swing, it’s unreachable, firmly attached to a crevice in your mind, shadowed by the darkness in your soul. For those times, sometimes we need another form of medicine. Pills, pills, pills.
I do believe the right prescription can be life saving. I also believe the wrong one can be fatal. I’ve had medications that have made me feel inhuman. Drained of compassion and love and empathy. As someone who takes pride from possessing those attributes, I felt like the one thing I liked about myself was gone. If I couldn’t love, I had no purpose. Sure, the pills took away my sadness and despair, but they replaced it with a cold darkness that ate away at my sense of self. You have to go through the pain to appreciate the joy. On certain medications I felt nothing, and although I no longer wanted to die, I also no longer wanted to be.
As an Occupational Therapist – being is at the core of how we work with people. I want people to be. To be strong and connected and loved. To be happy and fulfilled and unapologetically themselves. I was drawn to this profession because for so long I struggled to be. My C-PTSD had taken away the whole essence of my being. Finding the correct medication, along with the correct therapy, was crucial to helping me become me again.
As I write this, however, I’m struggling with withdrawal symptoms. I’m currently taking duloxetine, one of the only antidepressants that has worked for me, but for 4 days this week I had no duloxetine to take. At the touch of a button, I can order my repeat prescriptions, which then go directly to my local pharmacy. Minimal effort. A few months ago the pharmacist asked if I wanted them to order another he medication for me. Maximum minimal effort. However this month they did not order them for me. I called them up and they told me to call my doctor. I called my doctor and they told me to request on the app. I requested on the app but it was not approved for 2 days. So 2 days without my medication. I can handle that. I will be ok. I went to the pharmacy and they had none in stock. They had to order it in. So 4 days without my medication. I couldn’t handle that. I wasn’t ok.
Withdrawal from anti depressants can be different every time. At times I’ve been too low to order more. Other times I’ve self-discharged from the treatment and spent a week dealing with the aftermath of that decision. This time, though, was different because I want to stay on my treatment. I want to go to work and government approved socially distant walks with my friends (A COVID-19 reference immortalised in this blog post, how wonderful). So the frustration of not being able to access the medication I both needed and wanted really got to me. As did the withdrawal symptoms.
I had hot flushes, dizzy spells, feeling tearful. Short, sharp shocks in my brain – like a bee was buzzing and stinging me deep inside my corpus callosum. There’s no way to stop it, and as soon as I finally got my medication it went straight down the hatch. A moment of peace as I knew it would soon be over.
My pharmacy are incredible. They’ll have my bag of tricks ready as I approach the counter because they actually get to know their patients. It’s the kind of place that makes me loyal to their service, but even people who are good at their job can slip up. Sadly, though, that slip up could completely destroy the progress someone has made. It should not be allowed to happen, but it does. If past me has gone through this, I would not be writing a blog to highlight the issue, I’d be rocking and crying and wishing I was dead. If medication is going to work it needs to be reliably available. People who are struggling with their mental health are not often reliable, so the healthcare system needs to be. It isn’t.
I had spent 2 months on the couch after who I thought was the love of my life told me that they didn’t want to be with me anymore because I was too difficult to be with. I hadn’t smiled or laughed for the longest time. Then I saw this. Cue laughter for about half an hour. It was the best I had felt in a long, long time. Laughter definitely is the best medicine.
#mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #occupationaltherapy #occupationaltherapist #nhs #depression #anxiety #therapy #ptsd #cptsd
Therapy for the Therapist 