I made the mother of all mistakes when it comes to being a patient.
I forgot to refill my prescription.
& then I kept forgetting. I forgot for an entire week . By Friday, I threw up my hands & figured that since I was seeing my doctor on Tuesday, a few more days wouldn’t hurt.
“Well,” she said as she adjusted her crossed ankles. “This was unexpected. How are you feeling?”
Then I admitted that I wasn’t sure – the plan had been to wean me off anti-depressants in the spring but then we decided to keep on keepin’ on with the doctor switch. & I’d already gone through the hardest part of weaning, so a part of me wanted to just see how I did off the medicine.
You know, since I made the worst mistake ever & took myself off them. Alone. WHEN I KNOW BETTER.
“That’s up to you,” she replied. It’s equally maddening & empowering how much she let’s me control my care. Ultimately, we decided that I should go back on the Zoloft as this summer will probably be pretty darn busy & I will be back in my original doctor’s care (hopefully!) in August. She called in the prescription & reminded me that it was my decision, but that I only had about two weeks left of “trace protection” from the remnants of Zoloft in my system.
I waited to fill it. Another mistake.
I’m tired. I’m unfocused. I’m short-tempered at work & quick to bite (not literally). I’m not sleeping well. I feel anger at the dog & I feel myself retreating into my little weird brain shell where I kind of hate everyone else in the universe.
Why am I doing this to myself?! Just because the original goal was to attempt to wean me in the spring?
I know better.
p.s. I refilled the prescription yesterday. YOU’RE WELCOME, UNIVERSE.





