Wake up. Medicate. Caffeinate. Repeat.

I should take my meds right?

“Yes Kaitlynn! Why are you not taking them?”

Because. I can’t feel. You don’t understand. Maybe if I don’t take them I’ll feel everything again. And I’ll have to work harder to self regulate. I’ll run and write and cook, I can be healthy again. Without being depressed, I just don’t care about anything. 

“You did really good at taking care of yourself. But no matter how much you wrote or cooked or did any of those things it never prevented a depression spiral. And when you got there, when you were depressed, there was nothing left. Just take your meds.”

Yeah. That’s true.

“I don’t want to wake up one day to hear you killed yourself.”

Why is it so hard to take my meds? I felt unsteady and rejected a few days ago. So I punched a wall, bruised my hand, drank some alcohol and decided to say fuck it to the world – no meds and no shits. I mean, how freakin unhealthy?

Not being on my meds I could cry again, which honestly felt pretty good.

I rode a little high and then buckled in for more of the lows.

Not taking my meds also meant it was harder to brush my teeth.

Not taking my meds kept me in bed longer.

Not taking my meds lead to waking up more at night to long winded thoughts stumbling over each other.

Awake at 4AM, I can’t sleep. My brain is running miles a minute. These nights happen less frequently when I take my meds, I think. How did I live with this insane brain chatter for so long? Did I really think being depressed would help me be better at my life? Or am I making excuses for being lazy.

Just wake up and take your damn pills, and repeat.


I stopped taking my meds again. On accident, but then it became on purpose. I feel so much more alive without them. But then I start to notice the patterns. Here’s what happens when I don’t take my meds:

I sleep a lot less OR a lot more. I start talking to women, sometimes even men, romantically (even though I know I don’t want a relationship). I clench my jaw to the point where it becomes numb. I drink more. I shower less. And eventually, no matter what, I’ll become depressed.

Future plan – read this when I want to stop talking my meds again. It feels good to be alive, but better to be stable.

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