I have a gallon size bag of medication that I have acquired over the last four years of Complex PTSD treatment.  I’m fairly certain I could earn a fortune selling little goodie bags of my drugs on the street.

Over the past four years medications have walked in and out of my life with alarming rate. At doctors directions I keep trying them all on for size to see what is the best fit.  I’m a med serial dater. It’s like the worst kind of kissing booth at the fair. Some prospects are are friendly but others are completely unfortunate looking, sloppy and lack manners.

I’m a gyroscope on a rollercoaster. My sense of balance and orientation is all dependent on the correct combination of sleep, food, activity, inactivity, interaction, solitude, spiritual balance and of course meds. If even one of those things is out of balance I feel like I will hurtle off the track and go crashing on the ground.

This journey has been about adjusting. Its been about acknowledging my illnesses, which I don’t like, learning my limits, which I suck at, and admitting my need for help, which I hate. However, whenever i get overwhelmed I have to remember and be grateful for the fact that I don’t have a life threatening illness, terminal diagnosis or malformation of my physical body that would keep me from moving forward in life.

But, I will be grateful for modern science which helps keep me balanced and I will quit hating them for their needfulness in my life.