It’s time for your medicine

It’s morning. Take your pills.

Go to work and give it your all. We mean your all as in the all we expect to work tried and true. The all we need to make the numbers work.

It’s evening. Take your pills.

It’s always time for your medicine.

What happens when you don’t take your medicine? Well your body is going to scream either way- it wasn’t made to rely on little white pills… Your mind though, your mind will deceive you.

Does it really deceive me? Well perception is reality. And right now I believe that I am failing.

I’m not failing, because I have the right medication.

I’m failing. I’m not failing. We are doomed. There is hope.

When things get really bad, I always forget that it’s time for my medicine

“The doctors give the pills but the pills don’t have the will to take the pain outta the brain, they just make the brain insane.”

I have a love hate relationship with my need for medication.

I hate that I need it. But I love myself for accepting that I need it.

It’s ok to not be ok. And it’s ok to be ok.

Why don’t we talk about these things as they come? Why do we have such high standards for ourselves? We give so much more grace to those around us!

We aren’t even friends to ourselves. Because if I was my friend, I’d tell myself to stop dicking around and take my damn medicine like I know I need to. I’d say Chelsee, you are having a panic attack, and that’s ok. But take this medicine to dampen it. You’ll be able to breathe. And I’d trust me and listen to me.

It’s ok to need something, and it’s ok that it takes a while to find the right concoction. But take care of yourself. And listen to the still, quiet voice within you that does not scream profanities.. it feeds you words of strength, healing, and grace.

Tell those bad thoughts to go straight back to hell from which they came.

And to my readers- thank you for sticking through the up and downs. And thank you for the words of positivity that is often the lighthouse in my stormy sea. Much love to you all. You are not alone.

Pills and Faith

“And the doctors give the pills but the pills don’t have the will to take pain out the brain, they just make the brain insane”

I’m on this journey of coming off antidepressants, anti anxiety, and “pay attention” pills. 

Look at that sentence. I was on a pill to function for every aspect. I became a machine. I was effective and I executed tasks. 

And I woke up one day and realized I had no idea how to be me. Whatever that meant. I had (have) no idea what motivates me to keep going, and I have no idea how to look what breaks me in the eyes. 

I talk to the Lord about it… it feels like I’m talking to him every second of the day about it. It’s messed me up pretty bad… but that’s ok. 

I’ve always told others it’s OK to not be ok. Don’t stay there. Stay the night if you gotta but don’t set up camp. 

But I never even looked at the fact that I’ve ignored mine. Lord tells us that he will wipe our tears away. He never said there wouldn’t be tears. 

Here I am waking up for the past three days crying. Don’t ask me why cause I don’t know. I don’t. I’ll laugh in between sobs because there’s no reason, no prompt. 

Who is this person? I don’t show emotion like this. I’m always strong. I never want to put my pain for others to bear. That’s my burden alone. 

And yet… I’m crying. I’m sobbing. My face is wet. The tears stream down my neck to my chest. 

Doesn’t make sense. 

And my husband that I know, I KNOW, God sent into my life. This beautiful man. If you never met him, I’ll tell you he isn’t an emotional one. He has a huge heart, but what is, just is. He doesn’t let it weigh him down. 

This beautiful man looks at me last night and tells me to just cry. It’s ok. Maybe my medicine wouldn’t let me cry over the months when I needed to. And maybe these are those tears coming out now. Perhaps with interest. 

I’ll tell you I cried even harder. Cried till a headache was more important than my heartache. 

God knows what’s in our hearts. And maybe he’s telling me to stop running and just be still. 

When you can’t find an answer to a problem, perhaps it’s not a problem to be solved, but rather a truth to be accepted. 

It ain’t about how hard you hit… it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. About how much you can take and keep moving forward. 

The Lord is my solace, my home, my safe place. Without him I am nothing. He has made the lame walk, the broken whole, and He alone is who I follow. 

I will not depend upon a capsule of concoctions to be my sanity. I know right now the Lord is telling me to be still, there’s something he needs me to see through these tears.