I got diagnosed and start medication very early on. Part of getting my diagnosis was basically try every single possible medication and see what sticks; the brute-force method of psychiatry. After a while, I got my killer cocktail and man- did my life change after that. A feeling of normalcy, life was not supposed to be this hectic, difficult and suffocating? Crazy stuff.

I know for a while after that, I blamed my brain a lot. After all, if it's just chemicals, it's its fault for not doing its job properly (basically adequate responses to certain situations). Medications were a blessing to me. After months of struggling to find the right dosage, the right labels, it was all worth it because I finally could go on with life, well, alive. And honestly, it worked. I had the best two years of my life, constant, balanced; until at some point I did not.

My medication worked and yet I am going through a depressive stage? I refused to believe it. Not this is just a normal feeling, I will get out of it, I just need to accept it and work on it hard like everyone else does. When you've fought off depression for so long, and known it for as long, it feels strange to put all the symptoms aside, but honestly. Honestly, I think I was just really hoping it was not, and deluded myself into minimizing it.

My medications work. They are supposed to work, and so every appointment, I kept telling my doctor that. Just a little sad spell. It will come to pass. Months later, it just kept getting worse, until I had to face it. When the floor's gravity is 10 times fold, that is not normal.

So what now? Well. Time to go back to the struggle. « No, it happens. Your body gets used to the medication. Your condition gets worse overtime. We'll need to increase the dosages. » But I am already maxed out? « We'll try alternatives ». Medications are a curse, for me that is. Going back to that process is just… exhausting. At what point, is it my fault and I just have to accept it? At what point, do I just give up?

The side effects. The headaches, the nausea, and for me, the weight gain. As someone who has struggled a lot with my appearance, suddenly looking into the mirror and not recognizing it my body does not help with well- my depression which my medication was supposed to solve. So I go through another diet, and another year of having to fight: my brain, my responsibilities, my body and having to manage all, so nothing falls apart — ironic considering I might be the one falling apart.

I am better today. I am not sure if this new cocktail of drugs will do the trick but I have seen some improvements. I complain a lot about the curse of medication, but I know I need it. I know it helps. I know I encourage everyone that deals with any mental health issue to consider them. And I guess me writing this is mostly to convince myself to keep going, and whoever ended up reading this and went or is going through the same things. We got this.