Monday, June 29, 2009

Drugs & The Spanish Inquisition

It has been about six years since I was first prescribed anti-depressants. I have only had a few months drug free in those six years since. Five of those years I have been on a high dose and any missed tablets have a fairly severe impact on my emotional stability.

I would like to get off them - but I am afraid. I am afraid of not being able to cope, of going crazy, of falling into a complete heap and never being able to get up and get on with life. I am afraid of the damage I could do to my precious friends and I am afraid of the physical side affects of decreasing my dosage.

So I work hard at 'playing happy'. I try to maintain a positive outlook on life and to help others put their circumstances in perspective. But really, honestly, I feel like I'm just 'playing happy'. I get so incredibly tired of being the voice of positivity when inside I am probably the biggest cynic I know. I get tired of putting on a mask of humour and laughing at life. I hear the voice of my parental units in my head saying to me, 'Don't take yourself too seriously. Learn to laugh at yourself.' But...am I just a well practiced fraud, deceiver, con?

Don't we live in a society that is so incredibly superficial that when someone asks how you are you answer with the pat response, 'Fine thanks.' even if your world is crumbling into pieces? I know I've lied many a time when someone has asked me that. Or if you answer truthfully, the inquisitor is suddenly no longer so inquisitive.