It's the war, not the weapon

I've been off my medication for four months this week, and I realize something very important, I think.

I'm starting to realize why I was on the medication. This isn't to say I'm going to start it back up again or anything. Maybe I will, eventually, I don't know. But I'm starting to notice a pattern with my moods.

Up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down....

It's exhausting! I mean, just functioning is exhausting. Every day, I'm either on top of the world, or I'm fighting furiously to get my legs out from under it. And the mere up-down-up-down of it is enough to put me under. That's not adding any child meltdown or fight with the husband, or bad news, and it's not even talking about the fight I endure on those stuck-under-the-world days.

And, hearing from all of your own battles, I realize this: it's not the weapon I use that's important. What's important is that I take the monster down. Medication isn't cheating; it's not making the "game" unfair. It's not even making me someone else. It's just the difference between a grenade and a bayonet.

I don't know if I'll restart it or not. Restarting it still feels like a small defeat, because if I do it, I will probably always be on it. And that means I'm not "temporarily" sick. It means I really have something wrong with me and it might kill me if I don't take the medicine. It's scary to admit that about yourself. And it makes me wonder, why? Why did it happen, and why did it happen now? And how am I going to explain that to my kids someday? Like this? "Hey, kids, I was always okay until you two were born, and then I became so freaked out that I've needed to be on medicine to function like a normal person ever since?!"

I think for now I'm going to look into a B-complex regimen and see if that helps even me out. I mean, evenness could be all I need to get to where I need to be. It's not a grenade, but a high-powered rifle might be enough. I don't know.

I'm just...so...tired.