The circuitry within me jerked and reworked my capacity until it was dulled drastically to inactive reactivity, I’m not who I thought and that thought can’t be bought off or fought. I tried to be someone I’m not and I truly gave it all I’ve got, now I’m sick and get told this was all obvious from the top, so how did I miss this in half a lifetime of thought?

I recently stopped taking my psychiatric medications. Well, other than weed. I figure let’s not get carried away. My true self has been serving me well lately. I digress. The best word I can describe the situation with was that I was always feeling obtunded. This too was on that precious spectrum but it was always there. I would lay in bed aware of my surroundings yet somehow also “sleeping”. It was a herculean effort to awaken from this some mornings as I never felt rested or like I had slept. In the day I would be lethargic and fatigued, often nodding off in the afternoon and struggling to get through simple chores in a timely fashion. Rinse and repeat.

It started with a conversation I had with my psychiatrist about how I was at that point again where it didn’t feel like the medications I was on were working. I was sleeping but not fully and I wasn’t feeling properly rested. Ever. The whole chemical-based depression didn’t seem to be at play anymore either in so much as it felt more like a part of the spectrum I could handle better. But there was that nagging dulled obtunded feeling and I attributed it to that and my lack of restful sleep. The medications are doing what they’re supposed to, he said. He wasn’t sure; I had taken many sleep aids unsuccessfully so I could try one of those again if I wanted to, but the implication was one of pointlessness.

Huh. My head spun a little but I realized what was happening here. I’m just going to stop taking them. Well, it’s up to me. Yes, yes it is.

The most recent sleep aid was a hypnotic, as some others had been. As you’ve surmised, it “hypnotizes” you to sleep. Here’s the sticky part. Hypnosis, yes. Sleep, no. He was right, the pill was doing what it was supposed to. I just wasn’t reacting to it therapeutically. I never slept, I was in that suggestive hypnotic state magicians attempt to use for laughs. I was never fully awake nor fully asleep.

Now to get stuck to the sticky part. When I tried to talk about this problem with others the source of this trouble was obviously my weed consumption. It always boils down to this. It’s easy prey because it’s my choice to use it and everyone believes they know how it’s affecting me. I recently came across some so-called journal entries in my phone from when I started to truly struggle, when the crying between calls began. I would try to write out why I thought this was happening and I was far more aware in some ways than I remember being reading those entries from this perspective. The thing was I believed it was just supposed to be that way as I had chosen that path, and I couldn’t figure out how to cope with it. Everything I did to relax had lost it’s lustre, including weed. I have learned when it comes to drug use I’m an elephant in a goldfish bowl in terms of remembering and functioning but for me weed was always a catalyst to engagement, mental gymnastics and curiosity, not a tire iron. But since the weekend warriors just watch TV or something similar when they get high this perception of incapacity and laziness gets projected onto me. Thus why it’s always at fault.

Since I quit taking my DIN medications I have been able to sleep almost every night, and while not perfect I don’t remember being asleep and I wake up able to get out of bed and get going. I saw the motorcycle crash that showed me my frontline days are done, and I have made peace surprisingly easily and quickly. I participated in a documentary where I set my story free. I can do household chores without planning them out in stages around my lethargy. I have entered my headquarters twice and managed quite nicely. I have worn my uniform for an extended period twice now and rather than fear and hopelessness I felt comfort and pride. I have put forth restrictions to begin the return-to-work process, albeit modified. I have been recovering from triggers well. I feel more engaged and lively when I do go out and socialize.

The ultimate point about DIN medication is that no one ever counsels you on how to know you don’t need it once it has served its therapeutic purpose, or that it’s okay to try to stop once you feel it has. I’m supposed to have feelings and I’m supposed to learn to cope with them. My psychologist pointed out that I have been this emotional being all along so what sense does continuing to medicate that make? No more than thinking I could drink it away to begin with if you ask me. The pills worked when I needed them but now that I have better tools they don’t serve me anymore. Those too are on that spectrum. If you need them they can help but they’re only a bridge to better days.

Weed, however… Well, I’m not listening anymore lol. Too present and awake now. You can’t win ’em all, can you?