I had to stop myself from making another emo post last night. I went to the doctor yesterday for an appointment to discuss my ongoing anxiety/sleep issues in relation to my ICBC claim, and I left the office more than a little frustrated.

In the last few years, my feelings about what is ok to put into my body have changed dramatically. Whether it's organic milk and free range eggs, naturally composed toothpaste and shampoo, or arnica and propolis to treat back pain and colds instead of Ibuprofen and Buckley's, I've become alot more aware of what goes inside of me and how it effects me - or could effect me down the road.

This change mostly started to take place around the time of my accident. Prior to getting hit by the car, I'd have a slurpee nearly everyday (I now do my best to avoid refined sugar like the plague), I'd pop Tylenol like it was candy, and trusted doctors when they would advise me I needed to take _____ drug to fix _____ problem. When I met Stephen, I was incredulous to hear that he'd never taken antibiotics in his life. His mom is a homeopathic doctor, and Stephen introduced me to the world of homeopathic remedies. It wasn't an instant love affair however - I was raised to trust doctors and their decisions, raised in a pill popping, there's a drug to fix anything (or at least make it go away) kind of culture, and to an extent, honestly believed that I would have died as a teenager if it wasn't for antidepressants.

Then the accident happened, and I was prescribed hydromorphone, which can best be described as the most powerful opiate available by prescription. So powerful in fact, that it is known to be used as a substitute for heroin in times and places where heroin cannot be obtained. The drug fucked me up. I would take it before bed and wake up bawling my eyes out, suffering from the effects of coming down from a high I was too busy sleeping to experience. When I took it during the day, the euphoria would take shape as either manic giggling/ranting&raving or more commonly, reducing me to a drooling blob, so unable to focus that Stephen bought me a tamogotchi because tv, video games, and books required more concentration than I was able to give. These effects almost ended our relationship as Stephen tried to cope with me constantly being in a state of anything but myself. And that's not even going into what it did to me physically.

Taking this drug made me unable to shit. It was only after I'd been on it for 2 weeks that I learned that it is commonly prescribed along with a stool softener, because otherwise, you simply can't shit. It's not that you are constipated all the time or that it's painful - I suddenly realised after a while that I hadn't taken a shit in ages - and when I tried, it was nearly impossible. It also created a physical dependancy. Missing a dose made me headachy, neaseated, gave me the chills. When I finally stopped taking them the withdrawal was immensely painful, and I quickly substituted my need for this drug with marijuana. I will be the first to admit that I smoked entirely too much pot in 2006, and I fully blame this drug for my depandancy.

During this time I was also taking anti inflammatories in an attempt to take down the swelling and pull some of the horrific bruising out of my foot. They weren't working. My foot was purple for weeks, and twice I had to go to emergency because I was loosing feeling (and therefore circulation) in my foot from the swelling being so bad. That's when Stephen introduced me to arnica - two small pills dissolved under the tongue 3 times a day and within 2 days there was *considerable* difference in the color and size of my foot. And it wasn't destroying my liver - or contributing to my drowsiness - or creating a new dependancy - in the process.

So if we fast forward through the last year, slowly and steadily I've become more aware of what goes inside of me, and how it reacts with my body and about what is really necessecary and what isn't. It started with taking a few remedies that Stephen would suggest here and there, and now, as you can see in the start of my post - has progressed to organic foods, natural bathroom products, and replacements for most common medicines. I'm not 100% converted - mostly due to convenience, price, or other issues - but as more and more time goes on, slowly these things become more and more intregrated into my life. I will still pop a Tylenol if the headache is really really bad, and I don't use natural cleaning products around the house - yet. So when the doctor prescribed me sleeping pills 2 weeks ago - something I've known for ages would help me but have resisted taking - I filled the prescription, thought about it for a few days, and after a night of particularly bad nightmares and little sleep, figured I'd give them a try.

And it's been interesting. They knock me out for a good 6 hours, and I awake with more energy than I can remember having in morning hours. I don't take them every night - only when I anticipate there being problems, and they haven't hindered my ability to sleep when I don't take them. What is concerning however, is the fact that I am still getting nightmares - really vivid, tragic, horrible nightmares, that Stephen has to wake me from as I toss and turn and cry aloud in our bed. This is why I went to the doctor yesterday.

I've been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder - no surprise there... and the doctor wants to treat me for my anxieties. The list is long - afraid of physical pain, afraid of being in cars/traffic, afraid of anything involving speed, afraid for my loved ones and potential car accidents, afraid of standing on a street corner and having a bus speed by, afraid of being pushed in front of the skytrain, etc etc etc. So she prescribed me something yesterday, a drug called Buspirone, or more commonly Buspar. It's a mood stabilizer. Or, as my doctor put it, "It takes the rough edges off".


The problem is, I feel trapped. I feel like if my doctor is prescribing me something in relation to my ICBC claim and I don't take it, it could end up being used against me when/if this whole thing goes to court. I feel like I don't want to be taking a drug that works by causing interference in my neurotransmitters, I feel like it's poison for my brain that will do little more than temporarily cover up a problem. And of course, there is the other side of me, the side that's tired of nightmares and sleeplessness, tired of being so afraid all the time, tired of wondering if I'll ever be able to drive or if I'll always be too anxious about the possible dangers to get in front of the wheel.

I can't afford therapy and it's not really covered in my benefits from work. I don't know what I'd have to do to get ICBC to cover it and I'm scared to phone and find out, that the answer will be something I can't stand to hear ("No"). I am also deathly afraid of the bottle of pills sitting on the desk in front of me. Afraid that they will damage me, afraid that I'll be tempted to take them, afraid that the girl who grew up trusting doctors and popping pills when told to will cave and swallow them and try to just do this that way.

I've come so far in my life in the last 3 years, leaving an abusive relationship, recovering from the accident, taking on several fairly major lifestyle changes. To be told that I need to be taking drugs to maintain my mental health is a really discouraging and frightening thing for me to hear right now. Stephen tells me that I'm strong and that it's my decision, and I shouldn't neseccearily make the decision he would make, and that he supports me either way. And part of me thinks I could try it, and stop taking them if it messes me up too much. And part of me wants to flush them all down the toilet, and persevere at finding an alternative way to treat this. A large part of me sees it as poison.

I'm stuck. In a period of transition, between old me and new me, and I'm stuck also, in a state of constant anxiety and fear. I hate the nightmares, I hate waking up crying, I hate being haunted by my sleep. There are no guarantees that this drug will work, either, and that doesn't help things. If it was that simple, maybe my decision would be easier.

I just wish there was an easy answer. My mom said to me yesterday, "We all get dealt cards we never asked for sometimes", and so I know she understands. It's just figuring out what to do with these cards and still come out on top is the hard part. I'm not that good at bluffing, and it seems I can't deal with the required strategies. I can't fold because that' s not an option.

Taking a drug that goes against what I believe is right for me, or continuing to struggle with my problems with no clear end in sight. I never asked for any of this, I never wanted to get run over by an effing Jeep. I am inclined to say that my life has never been easy but that statement doesn't makes things any less complicated and I'm tired of stigmatizing myself.

I dont' want to sound whiny or emo... but I just wish I knew what to do. Yano?