We’ve all seen it, hell most of us have probably been there at one time or another, I know I have! I call it zombie life, now you’d think I’m referring to the non-stop sleeping that comes with most medication changes. Not really, the non-stop sleep-a-thons are only a drop of water in the bucket when it comes to zombie life. When I’m talking about the zombie life I’m talking about being “overly medicated”, or being medicated with too many “zombie pills.”
Now I can explain. What I’ve seen, and been through. Let me first say I’ve been this zombie, more than once in my life. I spent years on the psychiatrist couch with yes/no answers. My mental health wasn’t a priority for years. Yes, I took the meds, all of them, but I could barely keep up with an actively paced work environment. There I stood monotone, pale, with hollow eyes. I was alive, but I wasn’t living! Each time I went into see this "medication happy” psychiatrist shed toss another one on the pile until I couldn’t stand any longer. I crumbled under the weight of these meds. Antidepressants, mood stabilizers, antipsychotics, sleep medication, oh and weight loss medication! Yes, that particular doctor saw my small stature ballooning so she thought I needed a prescription weight loss medications. I was still in my yes/ no status, until my body and mind crumbled into pieces. The agoraphobia took over I refused more medication but the psychosis was so bad!
I was put on suicide watch at a state run facility, a hold if you will. Most of you know once they put that hold on you, there’s no going back. At least until the hold is over is what I learned. The “acting psychiatrist” decided I needed new medication…..nope, I refused! Not another pill, not another bottle. I was hallow inside and out, I was a zombie.
I had no idea one of my childhood friends was working in this madhouse. I refused everything, not going to a “group”, not going to eat, and fuck these new medications, I was going to lay here under my covers and pray until the “hold” was over. It was early, real early, when the lights flipped on and the gentleman was there to get me out of the bed I hadn’t left in a couple days. I heard his voice booming as I sank further under my covers. I know that voice….one of a kind, I told him to “fuck off”, knowing who it was. He knew mine of course and ripped my covers off of me. I was fully dressed, but felt naked, exposed, and empty. “Mari, what the hell are you doing in here?” All I could do was cry.
He was my link to the outside world, we spent the majority of our lives together. “Get up” he said, “let’s go talk.” When we escaped to the outside world for a cigarette I really needed, he was upset, and confused. “Mari, you’re not the one, what the hell are you doing in here?” He ran to get my chart, did a quick review seeing that I was refusing the new medication. He understood, you can only take so much! Here I am “locked away” and you want to throw new shit at me…..NO! So we talked, he explained that the doctor I was seeing was well known for "over prescribing." “WHAT”, I was confused. He told me stories of people that were “return zombies” in the facility I was in. In his opinion the State Mental Hospital was where the real work got done. He said he watched patient, after patient “go away” to “get better.” Each patient came back well balanced, and doing well, only needing medication management. Each time the doctor would change their entire medication regiment, and add what she saw fit. “You don’t belong in here Mari, get off this hold, get the fuck out, and never come back!” DONE! It was a 36 hour suicide hold…that was the minimum I had to do, then I was able to “check myself out” against the attending physician’s orders.
I never went back to that psychiatrist. She had caused enough damage, she had me “zombied out.” I was no longer going to be that person with yes/no answers. Now even being proactive the “zombie affect” can get you! You have got to watch your behavior, if you can’t see it, someone you know can. I’d write down hours I was sleeping, how I felt, if I was eating. The basics really. I got back to “The Good Doc” as soon as I could. It meant moving four hours away to receive her services, I was desperate, and I trusted her, not to over medicate me.
It was an adjustment, getting stable again. I basically went back on the regimen I was taking before this pill pushing psychiatrist had me completely zombie out. There have been medication changes over the years, recently I had to switch antipsychotic, and one of my mood stabilizers was basically over powering the one I had been on for a zillion years. “The Good Doc” rarely does medication changes, but after years on the same regimen I needed a tweak just last month. I had to watch myself daily, the medications can cause partial facial paralysis. AKA major zombie face. The level was too high, causing my face to freeze, not able to express emotions with my face. I had this unbelievable twitch above my eye, and my voice came out monotone with no expression. I never said switching meds was easy, only necessary at times.
Today I’m fighting to get use to this “new med.” It’s not easy to be mentally ill, it’s even harder finding the right regimen you need to lead a positive productive life….outside the “zombie zone.” ~ Mental Mari
