My Brain on Drugs

Some folks like to joke about the fact that I “get to” take “drugs.”

Let’s be clear: I am forced, against my will, to take medication. I don’t like feeling cloudy. I don’t like the constant confusion. I don’t like not being able to think clearly. I don’t like feeling as if my brain was replaced by straw.

Here is an example.

(Yesterday, told in the present tense.)

I brush my teeth. I shower. I want to put on deodorant. I brush my teeth instead. I leave the bathroom and make it two steps, stop and remember. That’s right: deodorant. I go back into the bathroom and see my toothbrush. I brush my teeth. I leave the bathroom and make it two steps, stop and remember. This time, I’m not going to allow that dang toothbrush to trick me, standing tall on it’s charger, with its pretty green light. I walk back into the bathroom (determined, with as much focus as I can muster), repeating to myself “deodorant. deodorant. deodorant. deodorant…” until my hand has a firm grip on the container.

An hour later, I think to myself, “have I brushed my teeth today?”

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