Mood stabilizers, they call them, but in some ways, they're more like painkillers for your heart. They numb the feelings so that you don't have the extreme moods you are accustomed to.
When you have a mood disorder, everything you feel is so much more intense, and so much more certainly snowballs out of control. That's most of the problem; the complete lack of control you have over your chaotic emotions.
But then you go to a doctor, and they give you happy little pills called stabilizers to do just as they're told to. Stabilize you. Normalize you.
Funny thing is, even with the little heart painkillers, you'll never be normal. Even if you keep up a fantastically ordinary facade, you will never be ordinary. You will always have those little pills in your pocket telling you that you are not good enough the way you are, that you must change.
Its a double-edged sword, these pills. Because some days you wonder why you can't just be you, why do you need these drugs in your veins, but then you remember the cuts on your arms and the painful nights where you drowned in your own tears and you remember why even you don't think the person you are is acceptable. Get better, Grace, be better, Grace. The words pound in your ears until you forget who you used to be and you are always striving to be something more, something better. You strive until it kills you.
You are stronger, you can beat it, they say.
What if I don't want to beat it, though, just want to have control of it? I never want to feel less than everything, I never want to feel so dull and numb that it kills me more than the pain ever did, I never want to beat myself, I simply want to be me but controllable.
Because right now I'm uncontrollable and that's terrifying.
Painkillers for your heart, numbing you until you can't feel anymore. But sometimes I wonder if I really want to feel numb.
Do I want to be me, or who everyone wants me to be?
One is safer than the other, but which one is really living?
Because all I want is to feel alive, but I don't know whether surviving will entail that.
Painkillers or killer pain.
That is my decision, one I'm not ready to make. Maybe tomorrow, when mania is not so close to my throat.
Maybe tomorrow, because I am far too afraid of today.
