Last Friday I visited my doctor and received a a new prescription, a supplemental prescription. It’s the first change to my chemical cocktail in nearly seven years – and as soon as I got into the car, I started crying.
It was incredibly overwhelming. There are few things I want more than to start a family. It’s the unknown that scares the pants off of me. I know that I have a condition that makes it difficult for me to function. Unlike a physical ailment, it leaves me unable to trust my brain, my core, my soul.
For nearly eight years, I have lived with the disease and kept it under my thumb. I have learned to take care of myself – and, perhaps most importantly, trust myself again. It hasn’t been easy, but I no longer worry and fret about having bipolar disorder.
Until last Friday. When I made the decision to change my chemical balance, and add a new drug in order to wean off of my current one. Lithium – and only lithium – has been my defense against crazy for seven years. And now I’m going to mess with that.
This is the first step in having a baby. And I made it. And last night – a week after just making the decision to do it – I took my first small dose of Lamictal. Willingly. I’m making a baby this year, dammit.