I did a little something last night that I do every week - I filled up my weekly med kit.
There was a point in my mental health journey that I religiously went to a psychiatrist, filled my monthly prescriptions, and never took the medication. I know it's common for people with mental health concerns to go on and off their meds when they start feeling better and then not so better. This wasn't really the thought behind my lack of taking meds. I just never found a way to add them into my morning or night routine.
Also, while some nights o desperately took my night meds and prayed for sleep, I also dread that alone time with my unconscious mind, as it often tormented me.
There was a point I'm treatment - my second round of residential that the nurse literally chased me around the lodge with my meds in her hands (in a cup in her hands) I justified my decision to refuse. "I haven't taken meds in over a month, and I've been just fine!" To which she replied "tee, just fine? And that's why you're back here, because you're just fine?" "Touche ma'am, I'll take them I guess." I still faught, because, well you know - stubbornness runs deep, more often than not. I didn't want to take them. One medication made me gain weight and I took it out on all meds, on all of myself. I didn't want them, as much as I didn't want to need them.
I made a deal with my therapist - I would take my meds consistently for six months, and then we could talk about stopping them. I agreed to this, because, well, stubbornness runs deep.
Sixth months passed, and I called up the therapist- "you tricked me ya buttface"
Her - "come again tee"
Me - "I agreed to take my meds for six months to prove I didn't need then. This past six months I have been as stable as I have ever been. Now I can't see myself not taking them. AKA, you tricked me"
Her - "you're welcomed tee." This was in 2016. Needless to say, I have taken my meds since, and I do not regret them.