Recently, I was rewatching the first series of Santa Clarita Diet on Netflix (brilliant show, by the way), where the husband, Joel (portrayed by the brilliant Timothy Olyphant), mentions a possible cure for his wife Sheila’s altered, undead, state. Sheila (played by the one and only Drew Barrymore), however, is hesitant, as she is getting so much done, now that she has more energy and needs less sleep. At one point, she even exclaims: “I can parallel park in one move now!”

You might wonder where am I going with this long-winded introduction, other than displaying my love of gore and humour intertwined. Rest assured, I am about to get to the point (rather than rambling on about how I, too, would like to be able to parallel park in one move).

Although I am not undead now that I am medicated (unlike my experience with antidepressants), this really made me think; do I really want to go back to the old me? Can I be successful in life without medication? They’ve had such an immense and immediate effect on me, that I am afraid to go off them. To illustrate:

Within 30 minutes of having taken my first pill, something bizarre happened, in the way I have always imagined an acid dream might feel like. Before this, I would compare my brain to a chaotic second-hand shop, where you really have to dig around to find the good bits. Now, someone had switched on the lights and mister Cerebellum had transmorphed himself into a neat library, with every book and folder in its designated place, on long aisles arranged in alphabetical order. Even my photographic memory – that I thought I’d lost to years of drinking – has started to come back. For me, this was a life-altering experience.

Now, I am not suggesting medication is for anyone – this is about my personal experience, which is why I have excluded the type of medication and whether or not this is the only medication I am on. I am not a medical doctor and do not offer any advice on medication. The featured image is for illustrative purposes only.

Anyway, for someone previously so anti-pharma, this was a point of reckoning for me, that led to some serious soul-searching. I could not discount the effect of the medication, and it helped me focus enough to start and complete three exam papers in as many days. Instead of having to stop and think about everything to remember, I was now able to enter a room and do the thing I had gone in there to do, instead of shaking my head in frustrated confusion as to why I had moved in the first place after crossing the threshold. The song lyrics I’ve written myself, but find so difficult to remember, just poured out of me when the time came to sing them. I stopped doubting myself all of the time. The intrusive images that have haunted me for as long as I can remember were gone. My impulsivity halted and my compulsion to continue drinking or eating when I’d had enough evaporated. This, in turn led to less stress and I started to feel as if I could breathe properly.

Eventually, the effect subsided within a few days and I had to up my dosage to get an effect. The same happened again after another week or so. Then, it just sort of stabilised and the fear set in: Had I imagined the effect out of pure desperation? Would my symptoms come back little by little?

Naturally, I quickly started setting myself up for failure by pushing my boundaries, slowly breaking the new, healthier routines I had adopted, like an obstinate child. I remembered myself elatedly saying that, ‘If this works for only a week, I’ll be grateful to have had that one week where I was normal. Among the living’. Now, the Id had taken over and was on a mission to convince me that I had somehow jinxed myself by uttering those words. Of course, the anxiety caused me to fuck up. I started forgetting things again, struggled to regain focus, let my impulsivity get the better of me.

Although, what I now realise, is that I am still significantly better than I was before I started taking my meds. It is not a placebo. My natural constant hankering for dopamine makes me think that the fact that I don’t have my world turned upside down every time I take a pill, means it’s not working.

Demonstrably, my attention has improved – I am able to focus on everything when needed, not only what I am interested in. I no longer get distracted by the sound of a car driving slowly over rocks on the street outside my window. My working memory has vastly improved. But I am still me; curious, empathetic, caring, fiercely passionate about justice and equally perturbed by injustice.

I might be a bit sensitive-skinned sometimes, or reading too much into things, but at least I now know that that is down to my rejection sensitivity and that I don’t have to walk around thinking that I’ve hurt someone simply because I texted them back ‘OK’ with no emoji. (At least I texted them back, eh?)

I do wonder if I’ll ever feel strong enough to go off the meds, though. In the meantime, I’ll be here, diligently teaching myself new coping mechanisms and preparing for a life in the real world. I will persevere, somehow. I always have done. Will I succeed? That depends on how you define success.

See you next Tuesday.

If you liked my writing and fancy checking out my book, you can head on over to the section where I’ve written all about where you can get a copy – available in paperback and digitally.

If you want to watch something beautiful and thought-provoking, you should check out Sensitive Skin.

For anyone craving a gorgeous listen, you can check out the Gary Numan album I’ve linked to below. Should be played with headphones on, or through proper stereo speakers for max effect. Excellent running music!

• Spotify

*Luff (noun): the act of sailing a ship nearer the wind