Lithium

Alex Harvey-Gurr

Day 1:
I’ve never done anything like this before, but my shrink told me it might help with things.
I’m losing myself to my mind. Neurotransmitter imbalances and genes that nobody understands have been controlling more and more of my personality as the years have gone by. The real me sees less of the world with each passing year, even when I’m on the drugs, the lithium. It’s enough to drive even a normal person to suicide.
I’d ask you to excuse the bleak tone above, but you’re just a journal and couldn’t care less if I write happy-go-lucky comedies with puppies and love sonnets or death-centered tragedies. My shrink told me to write down what I think about while I’m writing, no matter what state I’m in. I think he’s a quack who can’t cure me, just like all the others. An expensive quack, but still a quack.

Day 3:
My brother Dan called today. He asked me why I’d told my shrink I wasn’t going to take my medication anymore. I told him I didn’t need them anymore, that I was better. I know I’m not really; I’ve done this enough times before to know what will happen in the next few months. He just doesn’t understand. How could he understand? How could he understand that the meds make everything grey and meaningless when you know the world is colorful and exciting? How could he understand feeling like he’s no longer in control of his own body, his own perceptions? Only people like me can understand what that feels like.

Day 16:
I feel good, hopeful. It’s been over two weeks and nothing’s happened. Maybe it will be this time. Maybe this time I’ll be okay.

Day 26:
Ihaventsleptin three days ihaventeventried
idontneedtosleepeveragain
So much fun ive written a book
wellmaybejustafewchapters
it is a masterpiece its betterthan the wasteland and
warandpeace combineditsa tragedy aboutmodern medicine andthe destruction ofthe MIND
tahwsiymemanitnodrebmemerdanitnoderac
ifeelsogoodeverythingis so colorful the world is full of ruby and
absinthe lizards and is
beautiful everything is so fucking beautiful
iloveit all neverwantit to
end.

Day 31:
My arm was in a cast when I woke up in the hospital. I’d crashed my car trying to drive, hitting a stop light post three blocks from my house, the one next to the neighborhood’s playground.
Dan stopped by, asked if I’d take my meds. I told him I wouldn’t. He told me my boss had called, had left a message three days before that I was fired.
It was worth it.

Day 39:
I saw my shrink today. He begged me to start taking my prescriptions again, that I was bound to crash soon, that my episodes have been coming closer and closer together. As if I hadn’t noticed. As if I didn’t see what was happening to me, what had been happening to me for years. I walked out of our session early without paying. I’ve spent the afternoon looking up psychiatrists in Yellow Pages. They all have condescending names, so I call Dan instead.

Day 57:
I’m staying at Dan’s. He found out I still wasn’t taking my meds. He won’t let me leave until I take them. I don’t see why he hates me won’t respect my wishes. He puts the bottle on the kitchen counter every day to remind me of what he wants me to do. I want him to stop trying to take over my life. I hate it when he makes me feel helpless.

Day 65:
I know Dan wishes I were dead when he strokes my hand and says it’ll be over soon.

Day 79:

I

cried

to d a

Day 95:
y.

Day 112:
I got out of bed today. I made myself coffee and read the newspaper. I took my first shower in longer than I’d care to say.
I’ve been sitting at the kitchen counter for the last two hours. The bottle of lithium sits in my peripheral vision, laughing quietly. Dan won’t let go of my hand.
It hurts. It hurts so much. I only want the absinthe lizard world, nothing else.
I don’t know how much longer I can last.