It was very very hard for me to accept the fact that I needed to take medication for my mental disease. I felt so much shame around taking it, I believe it was because of my family history with mental illness & honestly taking any prescription medications scared the living shit out of me. But I knew that if I was going to make it through this I needed to do something. So I started the lowest dose I could take and swallowed that pill down with immense hope that it would help. I really do not know how I mustered the strength to get through this time. I think one of the hardest parts I dealt with during this time was the lack of sleep. I would keep myself up for hours during the night because my intrusive thoughts were/are almost always way more active at night. They always popped into my head when I was just about to drift off. That, or I would wake up in the middle of the night with a nightmare from them. I would have to walk through the house to make sure everyone was good and that the doors were locked, I would pray fearful prayers or search doctor google to see what is wrong with me. I didn’t know it at the time but all of these things were my compulsions of sorts. I really considered checking myself into a hospital that cares for mental health related illness, but I had the most supportive people around me. I knew that I could probably get better if I just did the work to get there.
At the time though I legit started to think that I had lost my mind. I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel but I decided that I would need to take this, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. After a few weeks (about 6-7) my brain activity started to calm down and my thoughts were getting clearer and less jumpy. I look back now and am beyond thankful that I took that leap of faith. I truly believe medication saved my life, along with my sobriety from drugs and alcohol, thats a whole other story but I will leave that for next week.