Tonight is the first night without a medicine that I've used right before bed since my injury last summer. For the last week, I halved the remaining amount. Medicine and I have a rocky relationship. We have moments of deep appreciation and gratitude. And other moments of frustration and resentment. We are, reluctantly, the best of friends.
I did stop this particular medication early in January. Because it had been long enough, and I was done, and who needed medicine anyway? After a few melt-downs, difficulty sleeping (thanks to pain), and a mega-flareup, I decided that I wasn't honoring my healing timeline. I was honoring my mental timeline. I say I am not a good person for medication, because I feel emotionally that medicine is cheating. I feel like medicine masks symptoms. It may cause bigger problems when I don't notice certain aches and pains that need attention.
This stubborn anti-medicine decision led to challenges with depression and pain a few years ago, as I tried to outwit and overlook the very real mountains in my path. If I was stronger, I thought, I wouldn't need medicine. If I was smarter... If I ate organic foods, exercised more, rested more...
Until I owned it. Until I recognized that feeling this way was not my fault. That I was trying. I did the best I could. And maybe I needed a little help.
I felt like there were two kinds of people- people free of medicine, and addicts. Taking medicine consistently felt like an addict. Even though I never take more than prescribed. It doesn't interfere with daily life (in fact, makes it livable). It helps. Without hindering.
Anyway, this medicine is not one that I should need forever. So it needs to be phased out. I don't have a problem with that. I just hope that my ankle doesn't have a problem with that. I hope I don't have a flare up on the horizon.
Let go. Let go. Let go. I cannot control tomorrow. Only now. I'll be fine. I only took one at night. Only a half for the past week. I did feel edgy and had trouble sleeping, but that could be the pain resurfacing more than missing the medicine. After all, the medicine worked.
I get so frustrated. I want to be better already! The doctor just approved another cycle of physical therapy. And I love my physical therapist, but I want to be finished. And by finished, I mean healed. It's not anyone's fault, of course. Dang CMT. The range of motion in my ankle is still off kilter from my other ankle. I can get to about 5 degrees from 0 on my left foot (still not good- most people can go negative-degrees where they can extend and stand on their heels). My right foot remains anywhere from 10-20 degrees from zero, even with our best stretches. Argh!
CMT teaches me patience. Kindness towards myself. What else can I do?
Deep breaths and letting go :)
Wishing us all a great night's sleep!