In the fog of this horrible year it’s been easy to forget that most of the time, I am actually OK. My ups have been more rare than my downs. My downs have been frequent, and horrible. But between times, there is something like “just” Becky and “just” Becky is OK. I spent a lot of last year being only myself and it was… quite nice. Nice to feel all the different feelings, from happiness to frustration, without falling off any ledges. I am so lucky for those times. But when I have times like that, it’s so easy to want to stop taking the medication, to imagine I can’t fall at all. I’ve heard a lot of people feel that way.
At the moment I am somewhere between that mindset, and still not having quite got my head round the fact that I do deserve to feel alright and this year was about being unwell, rather than blameful. I was talking to a friend the other day about wanting to come off the medication. Because I want to feel different sometimes. Because I want to make sure I am me. Because as “just” me, I am less confident than “up” me or even just “vaguely unstable/ not giving a shit because too depressed” me. I am less good at writing as just me. And as just me, I have more feelings, a whole spectrum of feelings, rather than just a few intense ones. And while (as above) that can be a good thing, it is also quite a painful thing sometimes, feeling a lot of things all the time. A quite tiring thing.
My friend said: you are much kinder, as just you.
And I would rather be kind than magic.