capsule
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| june 14 2004 |
June 14 2004
I saw my psychiatrist today for my biannual checkup. We had a very different session than usual this time around. She noticed that I was acting unusual and asked what had changed. Because my therapy admissions are private between only us, I felt comfortable spilling the beans. I said that I had been off my medication for almost half a year. I told her that I feel much better now, like my head is clear and my memory is improving. She said that was interesting and asked if there had been any downsides. I said that my dreams have gotten more nightmarish and frightening, I’ve started to sleepwalk, and I think I’m starting to see this strange man out of the corner of my eye. She said that while she’s happy I feel that I’ve made a positive improvement, my symptoms are worrying and going cold turkey is dangerous for my mental and physical health in the long run. She said I was doing so well last visit and made so much progress going through the trouble of finding the right cocktail of drugs that worked for me that I should reevaluate my decision to stop taking them. She said for me to take a step back and make a personal judgement if staying off these meds in exchange for mental clarity is worth the risk of having another dangerous schizophrenic relapse, or if taking them again to achieve that previous stable state of mental health we had worked years to achieve is worth bearing the negative side effects of those drugs.
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| june 14 2004 |
She told me she will send out refills for my meds, recommending that I should go back on them immediately if any psychotic events begin to occur. I asked more about the meds. She said the blue one calms my anxiety and the red one is an antipsychotic. But when I asked what about the capsule, she said that she’s only ever prescribed me those two. I caught myself and said I meant the vitamin supplements. Internally, I was freaking the hell out. What the FUCK are those black and white capsules I’ve been taking for most of my life? They must have come from that Henka guy. I had written that he sold Mom my capsules back then, so they must be them because back then I had only been taking that black and white one for years. I felt super conflicted leaving Dr. Garner’s office. She was right. I was pretty stable on those drugs and doing fairly well on the surface before I found this journal. I honestly felt decently happy. But looking back on it now that I can think straight, the truth is that those meds kept the real me bound and gagged inside my head while my life just passed by without me, like I was stuck on autopilot. Now that I got that neurological muzzle off my cognizance I don’t ever want to go back to that state of being, even if it means risking going back to that institute. I don’t want simulated happiness because being in control of my consciousness and being able to see
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| june 14 2004 |
the real truth is what gives me real comfort. I can see so clearly now. I really think these visions of beings are not only real, but are guiding me with purpose and those chemicals I’m expected to swallow just make me blind deaf and dumb to perceiving them. But... what if this is the plan? To turn me into a complacent zombie, erase my memory, and keep me from asking questions... all because I somehow have some bizarre paranormal curse that they apparently have a stake in due to some magic journal that my recluse Grandpa has? It sounds so goddamn crazy... but there are too many red flags surrounding me and they’re all pointing to the same place. All these thoughts lead me back to Mom and her growing list secrets that I’ve learned, thanks to the existence of these pages. I’ve got this sickening feeling that I’m being puppeteered by a third party for some nefarious purpose and that Mom is in on it and has been in on it for years, considering the fact that she somehow still brings home those damn capsules. It all makes me so very overwhelmed and I feel so fucking sick. Who do I trust? Who can I trust? I’m alone in this world.
