side effects

"Prozac is good for people with eating disorders." They said.

They failed to mention the reason why. In my case it was because Prozac turned me into an apathetic lump who sat on the couch and stared at the wall.

"Klonopin will help your anxiety." They said.

They didn't tell me it would help by making me too tired to care. Emotion was exhausting. Everything was exhausting.

"We don't want you to feel nothing." They said. "Let's switch you to Zoloft."

The return of emotion was like a tidal wave. One day I didn't care if I stared at the wall all day long. The next, I was sad. Then I was furious that I couldn't cry because I was sad. Then I was anxious because I was feeling anything at all. Maybe that was the foothold it needed, but anxiety grew back like a cancer. It dug it's claws in and held on.

"Sometimes your body gets used to Klonopin, and it doesn't work anymore." They said. "How about we try Ativan? And while we're at it, let's increase your dosage of Zoloft."

"Ok." Is all I say.

"You should really cut out caffeine." They tell me. "Caffeine has a very strong correlation to panic attacks."

I don't say anything.

How can drugs have both insomnia and drowsiness as side effects? It seems like a very intentional form of torture to me. I've started taking Melatonin to help me sleep at night. I drink up to six cups of coffee to keep me awake during the day.

Cut out caffeine? I might as well cut my wrists.

"Alcohol is a depressant, you know. We really recommend that you don't drink."

I press my lips together and bite back the urge to scream. Or cry. My emotions change faces too quickly for me to tell.

"I just want to be able to sleep at night and stay awake during the day!" I want to yell. "I just want to be able to have some drinks with my friends! Like a normal human being! Is that so much to ask?"

I know why I was the only person in the psychiatric ward with a full-time job. It takes all of my willpower to go to work everyday, and I like my job. In this, I will admit that I see my own strength. Because it is so fucking hard to pretend to function like a normal person forty hours a week. But I also see my weakness. Because there are so many days where I am tempted to not go. To take ten sleeping pills and pull the covers over my head. To go past my exit and just drive and drive and drive until I run out of gas.

I am a kaleidoscope of chemicals, and I just want somebody to explain to me why a side effect of my life is being like this.