In one of my favourite songs (and one of her best), Julien Baker, after a somber stringed intro, sang:
“If I could do what I want
I’d become an electrician
I’d climb inside my head
And I’d rearrange the wires in my brain”
And now, as I lie in bed and alternate between reading this book I’ve been putting off for weeks and finding in it the drive to let my words flow out, I think about how I also wish I was capable of rearranging the circuitry in my mind.
With the world slowly trying to recover from the harshest effects of the pandemic and with vaccinations going underway, I’ve had the opportunity to be on the priority list as someone with a comorbidity: allergic rhinitis.
I also have eczema, generalised anxiety disorder (and under observation for bipolar II), and am similarly under observation for endometriosis.
I can’t take regular anti-anxiety medication because the hormones it creates fuck with the birth control pills prescribed for me by my OB GYN.
If I don’t take the pills and take my medication instead in order to keep my anxiety under control, I find myself in bed 82% of the time, on my side, knees towards chest, head burrowed.
(The compromise my psychopharmacologist and my OB GYN have reached, thus, is this: combined oral contraceptive pills, and panic disorder medication on an “as needed” basis.)
(Also, Big Pharma sucks.)
Again and again and again, when one flares up more than the other, when both flare up at the same time, or when it is a good day and I am at my best, I wish I can manually fix my body. I wish I can manually fix my hormones.
Just so things can finally click in place.
In an attempt not just to be whole (because I already am),
but unbroken.
Of perpetual finds 