To Be or Not to Be

It's been about three years since I've gone off my anti-anxiety medication, which I went off of for a number of reasons.  First, I left it at home when I went back to college after a holiday, and had my sister mail it to me.  I didn't think it'd be a big deal to be off of it for a few days, but I was wrong, and had a huge meltdown that left me in bed for two days.  The idea of being that dependent on a pill scared the shit out of me.  Second, another sister had put me under the impression (whether she meant to or not) that I couldn't be on these pills forever, and that also scared me.  If I couldn't handle a couple days, how could I handle going off of them when I'm pregnant, or when I need to just stop?  And last, but not least, I felt like my art was suffering.  I thought I could no longer feel really passionately about something, and for that reason I would not be able to dig deep inside of myself and pull out a beautiful, emotional piece.  

Although these past few years have been pretty rough, I was able to learn to cope with my emotions to some extent.  My photography picked up, I learned to write every day and focus on the good things, and every now and then I could actually talk myself down from my irrational thought processes.  But it's been exhausting, and there are still so many days and nights I spend worrying about, well, nothing.  

For example, I was up for two hours last night, worrying that my dental history would mean I could never give birth to a healthy baby.  And I can't stop feeling so completely lost about my role in life - what happened to that 18-year-old who would blast Ani Difranco into her ears late into the night, feeling like the world was her oyster and she could be whoever she wanted to be?  What does it mean that I put my husband's career before mine - something that I never thought I'd EVER do in my life, but here I am?  What does that mean about me?  This amount of stress and over-thinking is killing me, so today was the first day I've gone back on my medication.

I know I have the support to go back onto the medicine, and ultimately it will be a good thing.  But that doesn't mean I'm not terrified of what will happen.  When my brain is chemically-balanced again, will my art suffer?  Will I still feel so happy and excited about life when I do feel good, without knowing how bad I could feel?  Will I ever be able to go off of these pills, comfortably?  I just have to remember to look up, to breathe, and to trust my situations.  I deserve to feel strong and independent, regardless of my circumstances.  The only thing holding me back from all life can give me is myself.  I have a wonderful family and husband who have been telling me this for as long as I've known them, and I hope I can finally start listening.  Everybody deserves to feel good.