Why Can't You Just Act Like You Don't Have It?

Yesterday, I allowed my kids to have McDonalds for lunch.  It's not too very often they get to have it.  When we're out running errands and they've been exceptionally good, I will indulge them.  Problem is, they always want to go in and eat in the restaurant and then play on the playground they have there.  I do not want to go inside and be around other people, I definitely do not want to be around other people's children.  Yesterday, we faced this problem.

My oldest son was griping that we were going through the drive-thru yet again.  I got the "You're mean, Mom." whine.  I said "Your Mom is not mean, she's bipolar."  He knows that I am bipolar, and a little of what it means, but obviously at 7 years old does not entirely grasp the concept.  He asked if being bipolar meant I didn't like public places.  I said that was correct to some extent.  He went on to say how it wasn't fair and that it was getting in the way of his happiness.  I told him that I understood and told him that it got in the way of my happiness, as well.  He kept at it, telling me it was affecting his joy.  Again, I showed empathy and told him it did the same to me.  Normally, he would have stopped there, but he called me killjoy a couple of times, and I got meanie a time or two, I think.  Something to that effect.  He asked me why I didn't want to be around people; if bipolar was contagious.  I explained that it wasn't.  He asked when I would stop being bipolar.  I tried to explain that I would never be cured.  He asked how I got it, etc. When it became apparent that the answers to his questions weren't going to produce anything he would like, he said to me, "Why can't you just act like you don't have it?"

What do you say to that?  It was a knife through my heart.  My son is entitled to feel the way he does.  Bipolar affects his life almost as much as it affects mine.  He is entitled to a happy childhood and I am not able to do things that he should be allowed to do...like play at the stupid little playground or have lunch inside a fast food restaurant sometimes.  Why can't I just pretend I don't have it?

My aunt thought he was being cruel hammering at me with his questions.  I didn't see it that way.  He had legitimate questions and a legitimate beef.  He had a right to express how he felt and I wouldn't want him to hold that inside in favor of sparing my feelings.  The kid swallows his feelings enough already.  He is an incredibly compassionate child and if he could understand more about my illness, he would deny himself anything and everything if it meant helping me.  I don't want that for him.  My aunt feels that at 7 years old, he has achieved the age of accountability and should be taught that he was being cruel.  At the very most it was insensitive, but even with that I can't agree.  He has a legitimate point.  Plus, he is a child and he doesn't know the line between appropriate and excessive yet, and I am a patient enough an adult to teach him.  It doesn't have to be taught in one day.  I felt letting him have his say (and all that came with it) was more important yesterday than teaching him that lesson.  I cried over how my illness affects him, yes.  I didn't cry because of what he was saying to me.  My aunt doesn't understand the difference.  She still sees it as him being cruel.

What sticks with me is the notion of 'acting like I don't have it'.  I wonder if that might help.  I used to do something like that when I had nerves over public speaking.  I would just pretend to be a person who was comfortable with speaking to a crowd.  I'd adopt the persona of a confident person--in short, I'd pretend to be someone else.  Can I do that with bipolar?  Can I fool my illness?  Has my son come up with something that might work?  I would do anything for my kids, so maybe I should give it a try.  The hard part would be if it didn't work I'd be faced with being at the restaurant with them and having to tell them we needed to leave.  Then I'd really be a killjoy.  I'd be committed to staying there until they had enough time to play.  I have to find a way to take the method for a test-drive first.  Otherwise, if it doesn't work I'm in for a painful, perhaps disastrous, experience.

Sometimes Good Things Happen

Things had gotten pretty lean over here because the State has not sent me a disability payment since October.  Not a great thing to happen right before Christmas.  I've had a disability application pending with the Social Security Administration since August.  For anyone who doesn't know, it is a very slow process, that usually involves two denials, two appeals hearings and legal representation before one is approved for benefits.  I filled out all the appropriate initial paperwork and had a brief telephone interview right after I applied.  Later I was sent a questionnaire asking how my ability to work was impaired by my illness.  I had to fill this out, along with another person who knows me and could fully answer the same questions.  After that, I've heard nothing.

Yesterday, a large amount of money was deposited into our checking account by the SSA.  I haven't received a letter of approval, denial or even requesting more information.  No request to see one of their physicians.  I do know they sent letters to both my psychiatrist and my therapist.  My therapist was kind enough to give me a synopsis of his response.  At any rate, it appears I'm approved.  I just would like to have a letter explaining what my rate is, what period the payment covers, etc. etc.  I have to let the State know they don't have to pay me anymore, and I have to alert my LTD plan that I am going to be paid SSDI so they can recalculate the rate that they pay me and what, if any, overpayment has occurred.  (They get to take credit for any overlap between their benefits and SSDI).  But there is nothing in the mail from the SSA. I'm sure I'll get something soon, I just don't want to be in a situation where we come up short on money to be paid back to either the State, LTD, or both.

It certainly was nice to be able to go out and do more Christmas shopping.  We had expected it to be a very spare holiday, and it suddenly seemed like it was going to be a bonanza!  The kids will be happy this year, they aren't getting any clothes for Christmas, it's all toys. 

As for me, my best Christmas present is just being approved for SSDI without having to go through the whole denial and appeals process.  Almost everyone is denied the first time.  It's not uncommon to be denied a second time, too.  How in the world did I get so lucky that it didn't happen to me?  Is it because I was hospitalized before?  Is it because of my three ER visits in 3 days during my psychotic break?  Who knows? 

I'm relieved that I don't have to wait and worry that I'm too close to my benefits running out while they take their time.  We have a set income to count on until our children start reaching the age of 18, since benefits are paid to them as well as to me.  They will stop being paid when they reach the age of majority.  My portion of the benefit will be paid until I die, or until SSA goes bankrupt; whichever comes first.  It's a big weight off my mind.  For now, our take home is almost as much as it was when I worked, so we should be able to live and save quite comfortably. 

Peace of mind.  What a great Christmas gift.  It may not be as good as Peace on Earth, but I'll take it.

Maybe I Should Just Shut Up and Wait Sometimes

After yesterday's installment of my ongoing pity-party regarding my medication, I woke up this morning feeling really good.  I do have a tendency to be impatient, and it hasn't quite been 30 days since my doctor increased my dosage of Wellbutrin.  Now, does this mean I will feel this way from here on out, or even all day long?  Not necessarily.  It does make me feel the need cut myself a nice slice of humble pie, however.  The skeptic in me whispers "It could just be that Christmas is two days away and you're looking forward to it...".  I'm my own worst enemy.

I really do hope this new-found buoyancy is the result of the medication doing it's job.  It sure would be nice to start the New Year on a better note.  2009 was probably the worst year of my life.  Let's hope it is the worst year I ever have.  I don't think I'd want to live through anything worse than that.  It's kind of goofy, but I am feeling that sentimental 'clean slate' feeling people get when they are faced with the beginning of a new year.  It's compounded by the fact we are beginning a new decade.  My oldest son will be 18 and off to college (at least he better be) at the end of this next decade.  For all intents and purposes, he will be a man.  (Not in my eyes, but will he ever be anything but my baby in my eyes???)  My daughter and youngest son will be in high school.   There is so much life to be lived in the next 10 years, so there is a lot riding on me being stable.  I don't want to miss a minute of it, or not be able to enjoy all of it because of my stupid illness.  I don't want to overshadow any of the many milestones they will achieve, or eclipse them in any way at all by getting sick.  Maybe that's unrealistic.  I can hope.  My therapist is Bipolar, and he has been episode free for 25 years.  Why can't I be, too?

I am getting way ahead of myself.  I just woke up feeling really good about 3 hours ago and I've already gone through all these mental gymnastics.  If I wasn't inclined to thinking all the time, I'd worry I was manic.  Fortunately, I haven't raced through these thoughts.  If I were manic, I'd have written this in 10 minutes, and I've been at it for an hour now.  Doesn't hurt that I'm watching CNN at the same time.  Wait a minute...that's more of an argument for mania than not!  Scratch that.  LOL.  Seriously though...

It comes down to this:  I am desperate to have a normal life.  I always have been.  Before I knew anything was wrong with me, when I suffered from depression for no apparent reason on a regular basis, I knew it wasn't normal.  I wanted to be like other people.  I wanted to be happy with what I had, but never was (unless I was manic, of course--but that was happy to me).  My desire to marry and have children was part of that desire for normalcy.  That is not to diminish my love and want for my family now; I am speaking in the abstract.  It was a goal, a target if you will, for me to achieve when I was a single woman.   Until I was 27, unless I was manic I was looking for someone with whom I could have a solid relationship, one with potential to become permanent.  After that, I had pretty much given up.  I digress.  I just want a normal life.  Now that I have what I always wanted, I need to be able to enjoy it for all it's worth.  I don't want to miss a thing and I'll be damned if I let this wretched illness rob me of it.  Moreso, I refuse to let it rob my children of a happy childhood.  I need to make that happen somehow and don't know how to be patient in the meantime.

I am still ahead of myself, but I want to be optimistic that these feelings are the beginning of long term relief from the depression I've been fighting.  A return to stability that has long been lost.  I hope, I hope, I hope.

Medication Blues Part 9000

I still have issues with my many meds.  Which I just realized I haven't taken today.  I better go do that.  Ok, I'm back.  I find I have been doing that a lot lately...forgetting to take them at my normal time, which is usually somewhere around 6:30a, but no later than 7:30a.  Right now, it's 9:03a.  The other day, it was 11:30a when I realized I hadn't taken them, and I didn't even have that dizzy, heavy headed feeling I get when I haven't taken them.  I wonder if this is some sort of subconscious, passive-aggressive form of protest on my part.  As you know, I've been struggling with the temptation of going off my meds because I'm tired of having to take so many, tired of the side effects, and tired of not seeing the maximum benefit of the intended result. 

Consciously, I have no desire to risk my stability in favor of being free of the side effects that are negatively impacting my life.  I have a responsibility to my family that I take very seriously.  That does make me feel somewhat like a prisoner though, which frustrates and depresses me.  I'm not in control of my life, and not able to make my own decisions.  Yes, I know this is all horseshit, but we're talking emotions here.  They don't have to be sensical. 

I have a good friend who also happens to be BP 1.  She is going through a tough time right now, trying to scratch her way out of a depression and is also having similar feelings about her meds.  All this shit we take only to feel...not sad.  Yes, we lived on a roller coaster before, but at least we felt things.  We reminisce about the days when we were roommates.  Her dominant pole is manic, so much of the time we lived together we were both manic.  (Mania is contagious, for those of you who don't know).  We had the times of our lives.  We did some pretty wild, sometimes embarrassing things, but God we were unstoppable.  Fortunately, we never did anything to get ourselves into trouble but we probably could have blown over the legal limit a time or two.  She and I and another friend of ours drove to Lake Havasu to celebrate the friend's going away even though we had no idea how to get there, nor had any of us used a map in our lives; we took off for Vegas in the middle of the night one time; I had to put ice on her nipples while she posed nude for a coworker/photographer while we were both horrifically hungover from the night before.  The usual.  There were other, far more outlandish shenanigans, but they are not suitable for this blog, even if I do have a warning before entering the site. 

Those days are over because of our age, anyway.  We would just be ridiculous barflies if we did it now.  Unmedicated though, it doesn't mean we wouldn't still.  There's that whole lack of good judgment thing.  It's not that thrill of manic elation that tempts me, even if my memories are funny and thrilling.  It's the desire to feel something more.  To be free of the side effects that make my mouth dry, that make me so sleepy I can barely keep my eyes open but still too awake to nap or fall asleep at night without Ambien.  My lack of libido.  The buzz in my brain.  My dry eyes because I don't blink often enough.  Two anti-depressants in high doses yet I still the best I can do is want to fix my hair a little and put on some eyeliner and mascara.  (I used to wear a full face and do my hair quite nicely).  It's discouraging.  It's not hard to feel like tossing the dice would bear the same risk.  The stakes may be higher, but if I win, then I don't have to deal with the side effects.  I know it's denial.  Stability would only last for so long.  Medication isn't a magic pill you can take only during a flare.  I'm just so fucking frustrated.

I just don't feel good on all these medications.  Period.  Between the side effects and just feeling almost I'm completely composed of chemicals now, I just feel like shit, physically speaking.  I have responsibilities, and there are expectations from my family, my husband and I just don't seem to be able to meet them like I think I should.  That makes me feel bad, makes me feel terribly guilty.  What do I do?  It just adds to my frustration.  I don't know how to express it, and I feel like I let everyone down.  The bipolar controls my life, and affects everyone else negatively.  It's all about me and my illness, and that's just not right.

People wonder why we get so sick of ourselves that we become suicidal.

Bipolar Hates My Friends

I have plans to meet a good friend of mine for coffee today.  I haven't seen her since about April or May.  We talk through IM or Facebook here and there, but nothing more than the quick hello or how are you.  That pretty much sums up my interaction with all my friends. 

When you're a parent of young children, you have very limited time to spend on friendships as it is.  However, going through the things I've been through this year has put a big wall between me and the outside world.  In fact, my own world is so small, I don't have much to talk about.  I've never been one to talk about my kids ad nauseum.  I don't watch much TV other than West Wing re-runs.  I don't have the ability to read uninterrupted these days, so I don't read much.  I don't work anymore, so there are no interesting tales to tell about what happened at the office. I don't go anywhere other than to take my kids to school, so really what could I possibly contribute to a telephone conversation or a casual meeting?  Not a hell of a lot I'm afraid.  I'm certainly damned tired of talking about Bipolar.  My friends are compassionate enough and want to know and try to understand what I am going through, but I am not the needy type.  I simply don't NEED to talk about it.  I NEED to forget about it and feel normal.

I'm going to have to talk about it some today, I'm sure.  It's part of the response to the question "How are you?" that will be expected.  What do I say?  I can say I'm fine, and that's entirely true.  Will I get away with saying that little?  Probably not.

It's easy to see why I don't seek out more contact with my friends.  They are good people who love and care about me, and that annoys me.  Just kidding.  Seriously though, it does make it hard sometimes to just...be.  I have another friend who has been wanting to get together with her daughter and one of my kids who is the same age.  I have agreed, but just not followed through.  I'm sure we'd all have a good time, but again I don't want to go through the "How are you?" part. 

See, I can't just say I'm fine and brush anything else off.  I feel obligated to give some kind of explanation or further details.  It's the concern or expectation in their eyes when they ask.  I feel like I'm being rude or icy if I just skim over the question with a breezy response.  I know it's my issue, but that's one of my issues.

I am looking forward to seeing this friend.  Once we get past talking about me, (and that will take some time, she tends to have lots of questions) she will have enough to say for both of us.  She is a great conversationalist and is extremely funny.  I am sure the time will pass far too quickly.  As much trepidation as I have ahead of time, I know I will be sad when it's over.   Maybe I'm Bipolar or something.  (I know, bad stigmatizing joke, but I couldn't help myself).

Bipolar Parent

As I've mentioned before, I have three young children.  My oldest is in second grade, my middle child is in Kindergarten, and my youngest will be 4 this month.  They are all so special in different ways, as you would expect any proud mother to say.  I will say all the typical things, they are very beautiful, extremely smart, and more amazing than any other children on the planet.  What separates my children from the others is that I am totally unbiased and these statements are 100% true.  What can I say, they emerged from a tremendous gene pool.

Seriously though, I do have smart and beautiful children.  For the most part, they are well mannered, well behaved and kind.  They do normal kid things, whine, talk back sometimes, cry, stomp around when they don't get their way, but not as much as some children I have seen.  What impresses me most, is how good they are to each other.  Don't get me wrong, they do fight with each other, with the occasional slug thrown in here and there for good measure (usually between my middle child and my youngest).  More often than not, however, they treat each other quite well.  They are usually all together when they are home, no one is left out.  They like being together.

From the very beginning, my husband and I made it a special point to emphasize that we are a team.  We do tell them that family is very important, but fostering the team concept has made an even bigger difference in how they view our family, I believe.  I can't explain how satisfying that is to me, since my relationships with my mom and sister are fractured, as is my husband's relationship with his mom.  Both of our fathers are dead, so there really isn't an extended family in the picture here.  I have one aunt who is very involved and is their honorary grandmother.  That's it.  I don't want that for their future.  I want them to have an extended family once they begin their own families. 

My youngest child is my clown.  He says and does the funniest things.  You never know what is going to come out of his mouth.  My favorite thing he said recently happened at the dinner table.  We were all talking and he was trying to say something but was having difficulty gaining attention.  He piped up loudly and said "Hello!!  Will somebody pay attention to the little dude down here???"  He is also inclined to say things about his "pee-pee" in very public places, which has been mortifying several times.  It's in places like waiting rooms at the doctor's office where it's very quiet...

My daughter is something of a princess in her own mind.  She has certain expectations of the way things should be, and she is happy to let us all know when they are not up to her standards.  Which is fairly often.  She's not quite six and already loves fashion and loves to shop.  (Oy!) She is my devious one, the one who convinces her brothers to do things like ride the top of a storage tub down the stairs like a sled, but keeps her own hands clean.  She will maintain her innocence even when she is caught red-handed.  She has even proclaimed innocence AFTER she has admitted her guilt to me.  She'll tell me she never said it, right after she has confessed to the crime.  It's kinda scary really.  She is also the one who is most attached to me.  She is the most loving and angelic child when she is not up to mischief.  I love to cuddle with her and talk about her day, the future, all things girly.  She is as much of a dream as she is an imp.  She is my little doll and I wouldn't have her any other way.  Even if she will make me completely gray by the time she turns 15.

My oldest son is like no other child I have ever met.  He's 7, but at times seems so much older than that.  He is a great big brother.  He and my daughter are unbelievably close, they always have been.  From the time she was born, it was like magic.  They have such a strong bond.  He is also the wise older brother to my other son.  He is good at looking out for him, showing him how to do things.  He always let his little brother climb and crawl all over him; it never bothered him at all.  He is very kind-hearted, always thinking of others.  He shows very good character already.  I think he expects a little too much from himself sometimes, so I'm trying to figure out a way to help him with that.  He knows that Mom is Bipolar, and probably understands more about what that means than most kids his age would, assuming they had someone who is Bipolar in their life.  He accepts it for what it is, and has no confusion about it.  He asks questions as the occur to him, but he's too young to be aware of any stigma associated with mental illness.

I'm obviously proud of them.  I know that who and how they are as has something to do with nature as well as with nurture.  I wonder what that ratio is?  Ha ha ha.  If only there were a way to accurately measure how well you are doing.  I know they have to have been affected by my illness.  I have had periods where I was very sick.  They have seen me leave in the ambulance more than once.  They saw the police come into the house and talk to their Dad.  They've heard me scream and yell like a crazy person.  I've been withdrawn and completely disengaged for long periods of time.  There is no way they were not affected.  From all outward appearances, they seem oddly well-adjusted though.  I look for behaviors, I look for signs, but I find none.

Being a parent is hard enough.  Being Bipolar is hard enough.  Being a Bipolar Parent...well...that's hard as #$%@!!  You have a distorted perception to begin with.  A brain that betrays you at times.  So here you are, trying to keep it together, yourself and your own well being such a big part of your own life, yet you are trying to raise three wonderful little human beings at the same time.  The natural inclination is to put their well being before your own.  However, in order to preserve their well being, I have to keep myself well first.  It's a very delicate balance, and against my own natural instinct.  I'm glad I don't have to do this alone.  In fact, for a few months earlier this year, I sort of was.  I happened to be very sick at the time and it was just a disastrous moment in my parenthood history.  I am hoping it was brief enough to not have caused any lasting ill-effects. 

Suffice it to say, this has been a tumultuous year as a Bipolar Parent.  Bipolar has affected my parenting skills in a big way and has overshadowed my children at times.  It angers me--they didn't ask for this.  They didn't get to make the choice to live with this illness.  No, I didn't either, but I did choose to have children.  I know I didn't know I was Bipolar at the time, but ignorance is no defense.  This is why, if I have to live with "not sad" being the best level of recovery I can achieve, I will live with it.  This is why, despite my frustration and struggles with taking my medication right now, I will not stop taking it.  They deserve more from me.  They need my stability.  I don't HAVE to be happy for any other reason than they are happy.  I can be satisfied with that.

On A Scale of 1-10...

Every time I see my psychiatrist, she asks me to rate how I've been feeling on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the best I can possibly feel (without being manic, I assume).  I've been giving myself a seven normally, since I've been doing better and not crying all the time or not interacting with my children like before.  Like I mentioned in my last post, I don't feel sad.  When I told her I felt "not sad" all the time, she told me that wasn't a seven.  When I told my husband about the conversation, he was surprised that I'd been saying seven, too.  He said that I've always been a four or five; never over a six.

Anything under a six sounds so low to me, as if one should be crying much of the time.  Six still sounds kinda low to me.  I don't feel tremendous pain anymore.  I'd like to feel happy, but if I did I'd be a ten then.  So, is that really all that far from seven?  My husband educated me.  If I feel not happy, not sad, then that's middle of the road and pretty much a five.  I never thought about it like that.

See, I'm not the histrionic type.  I have a high pain threshold, which I guess includes emotional pain as well as physical pain.  I've never been able to answer the pain chart question for physical pain, either.  It confuses me.  After I had my kids, each time my doctor would come in surprised that I wasn't asking for pain meds.  Sure, I didn't feel like I could run a marathon or anything, but the pain wasn't so bad that I needed even a Tylenol.  She forced a prescription for Darvocet on me all three times I went home with a new bundle.  I never filled the first prescription.  I did the other two, because after a bout with meningitis, I found out how handy a bottle of Darvocet can be.  At any rate, I never took pain meds for post-natal pain (and I had good size kids).  I don't whine about being in pain.  I will say something about it, but I don't moan or writhe about, etc. etc.

I guess it's the same with my current state.  I'm just glad that I'm not as low as I was before and that translates to a pretty good score to me.  I guess I need clarification on that scale thingy so I can give more reliable information.  Who knows, I might be able to feel better than I imagine I can.

I am still having issues taking all these meds though.  The other night it was very frustrating to me.  The side effects have been tempting me to just stop taking them.  I'm tired of having no coordination in my left hand, being uber-sleepy every afternoon after 4pm, having a diminished libido, having dry mouth, grinding my teeth, and not being able to sleep without an Ambien.  I'm also just tired of gobbling a handful of pills every morning, trying not to take the wrong amount of certain pills (which I have done a couple times).  They make me feel blunted, it seems, and I'm quite tired of that too.  I want to feel like me again.  I said to my husband that maybe that me isn't so great of a person, but at least I know who she is and what she feels like. 

Obviously there are greater concerns about me going off my meds than me just being unstable and subject to being manic or depressed again.  There's the whole possibility of another psychotic break now.  As I've said before, I won't stop taking my meds ever.  I have a firm commitment to my family that I will not break.  It just gets tough sometimes, and I get tempted.  Besides, I wouldn't have the first idea as to how to wean myself off all this crap safely, and it would probably take too long for my taste if I even tried.  Yes, I've thought about it, but that's just part of the frustrated feeling.  I haven't given up on feeling better than this yet.  Talk to me in about six months though.  This could get harder if nothing changes.  I will have to find some deeper inner strength to get through that, because there are certain medications that I flat-out refuse to take.  (Any of the medications that cause weight gain).  That is the only way I will become a difficult or non-compliant patient.  For now, I'll just keep the faith I have.  Everything has worked so far.  If I ultimately have to settle for not sad, then I may have to do just that.

How Long Until My Brain Explodes?

I saw Dr. Tween yesterday for my monthly follow-up.  I had experienced no appreciable difference with the addition of the Wellbutrin last month, so we are doubling the dose this month.  I'm wondering with all these medications and the levels (I'm pretty much at the maximum doses of all of them) at what point will my brain actually explode?  Seriously, this just can't be good for me, physically speaking.

Don't get me wrong, I realize the implications of a life without my medication.  I am also really tired of taking all these damned pills.  Yes, I've achieved a level of stability.  I had commented to both my husband and my doctor that I never feel happy.  I don't feel sad or depressed, I just feel...not sad.  Is this the best I can hope for?  I'm not looking for the elation of mania, I just want to feel the contented sort of happy.  I don't feel that.  I can't even conjure up the feeling from a happy memory. 

So I get tempted to stop taking my meds.  It's not a strong temptation, but it's there.  It's normal.  I hate gobbling a large handful in the morning and a small handful at night.  I hate having to eat something again if I forget to take my nighttime pills right after dinner.  I hate that I can't sleep without a sleeping pill now.  (Although the quality of my sleep is awesome with it!)  I miss having strong emotions.  I don't really miss having the negative ones of course, but I miss just feeling things.  I'm happy to be calmer and definitely more patient.  I definitely don't miss how my behavior affects everyone else, I just miss the experience of feeling the strength of emotion.

I would eventually tire of those feelings, too.  It's a hell living in a bipolar mind.  Maddening, exhausting, confusing, painful.  From a purely selfish standpoint, the calm and the peace I now have are what make the trade off worth it.  From a broader perspective, and the reason I will never go off my meds is my commitment to my family.  There's also my fear of another psychotic episode and being hospitalized, etc. etc., but I have a responsibility and love for my family that supercedes any desire or issue I might have.  Their best interests outweigh any of my interests, period.  If I have to go the rest of my life feeling just not sad, then that's what I will do.  I really hope I don't have to, though.  I also hope my brain doesn't explode before my time, too.