to be enough

I want to think that I don’t need a chemical substance to maintain my sanity. I want to believe that I am enough, on my own. That’s I’m strong enough, and independent enough, and smart enough, and emotionally capable enough to handle life. And maybe I’m not.

I think: but I used to be able to handle life — to thrive even. I was successful and accomplished things and didn’t feel so overwhelmed with the world that all I could do was cry. What happened to me? What’s wrong with me?

Sure, I have too much work and not enough sleep and no sense of the future, but I’ve always had too much work and not enough sleep and my sense of the future has been way more fucked in times past than now. I suppose, looking back, I’ve gone through other periods of being unable to move, unable to do anything but cry. Maybe they don’t seem so bad because I’ve gotten past them. And I can’t seem to get past this.

My doctor said maybe my body chemistry has changed as I’ve gotten older so I respond to things differently. Maybe the supposed harmless growth on my uterus is fucking with my hormone levels. Maybe things have always been this way.

I only know that I was feeling so incredibly paralyzed from the crushing weight of the world that I just couldn’t function. And then with Zoloft, I could. That’s a good thing, right? Why does it matter how I can function as long as I can?

Well, for one thing, there’s that whole, what’s wrong with me, why can’t I be strong on my own thing? And then there’s the fear that the Zoloft would take away some part of me that makes me me. And maybe not having such a heightened sense of stress would mean that I wouldn’t do as good of a job. That I would be satisified with mediocrity, with averageness. And that no one would think anything good about me anymore.

In any case, I managed to accidentally leave behind the Zoloft on my recent trip and after 10 days without it, I figured maybe I didn’t need it anymore. Only tonight, there I was again, feeling hopeless that I would ever figure out my life, feeling pointless, taking it out on people who don’t deserve it.

My doctor said I should think of taking Zoloft the same way one might take cold medicine or heart medicine. And while I think that way about anyone else who is on anti-anxiety medication or anti-depressants, I don’t think that way about myself. I just want to be me. And for that to be enough.

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