I have a friend who is bipolar. I have written about him on this blog before, in a post called “The Right Not To Medicate”. At the time of that writing, he was accepting of his antidepressants but not interested in doing anything by way of mood stabilization. He is now, as of our most discussion about his Medications, off all of them. I struggle deeply, and more than he knows, with how best to support this friend of mine. He’s a handsome handful that I see as a surrogate little brother, and the fact that he thoroughly enjoys exasperating me and tries very hard to do it only solidifies this dynamic.
When we chat, occasionally, on FaceTime, I am always struck by his appearance. He dresses fashionably and plays up his dark good looks, often putting a trendy spin on the business attire required for his white collar job. He smiles boyishly into the phone but won’t talk too long about anything that makes him uncomfortable, choosing humor and deflection instead. Nobody looking at him would ever guess, ever ever guess, what he goes through on a daily basis, how much he hates himself for the decisions he makes, how much he doubts himself all the time, about everything. He is, quite frankly, being an idiot right now, in several ways, and he’s smart enough to know it, and conscientious enough to regret it, but this idiocy brings him comfort in the moment, and this comfort is what he needs to survive himself, and on the cycle goes.
Having spent my twenties on medications that did very little besides make me fat AND make me reject not only my diagnosis but the notion of mental illness altogether (angry graduate student + Thomas Szasz = bad synergy), I can well attest to the terrible feeling of being dominated by medications that are foisting side-effects onto one’s life while bringing about little to no healing. I also know what it’s like to deal with family and friends who after awhile get tired and fed up and start working really hard to convince you to make some decision or another that REALLY IS THE BEST FOR YOU, when all the while it’s really fucking obvious that they’re over your crap and want you to take meds or sober up or settle down already so they can have a break.
Both of those scenarios feel an awful lot like being controlled, and grownass educated adults ain’t gonna accept it. Nor should they.
Having said that, there does come a time when someone needs to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask some questions. Is this life I am living healthy? Is it sustainable? Is it feeding my soul, nourishing my spirit? Do I really want to keep feeling like I do, be doing all the things I am doing ten years from now? What if my child/parent/spouse were making all the same decisions I am making…would any of this be okay with me then? If the answers are no, maybe it’s time for medication. Medication, the right one, is a gateway to a different life, if you are willing and ready to accept it.
Willing and ready are the key words, there, though. Ambushing someone, pushing them, nagging them about medication changes the issue from medication itself to a power struggle between two people, so the mentally ill person who is already struggling and already feels alone feels further marginalized and even less understood. The key isn’t browbeating someone into capitulation. Rather, it’s about maintaining a loving and respectful relationship where trust is mutual and true dialogue remains possible, and emotional safety is never ever compromised. We cannot force others to change course. We can only walk beside them until they decide to do it for themselves.
For F., again…I wish you’d take your meds. But our friendship exists outside of that decision, and always will. #rightherewithyou
