I had started a blog post a long while ago about returning home from my trip to Texas and California to move into a new apartment – but it got lost in Lamictal-induced lack of creativity. Everything seems to get lost in that lately. I have a novel to write, a blog to keep up with, and several crafts I'm working on – but psychiatric meds have a way of zapping your creativity and motivation until it is completely gone. It bothers me because I am a writer. I have been writing since I was twelve. All of my hopes and dreams for the future and the present include writing. And what's most unfortunate is that when I can write, I'm good at it. There are few things more devastating than no longer being able to pursue your talent.
I consider going off the meds. I'm on Zoloft (100mg), Lamictal (50mg), and Trazodone (50mg), but I've yet to decide whether or not that is the best idea. On one hand, I am more leveled when I'm on them. On the other hand, I feel as though I am going nowhere in my life without my writing. There is nothing else I want to do. I was meant to write. I need to write. And the meds have stopped me.
The past few weeks have brought a bucket load of new experiences, each one planting an idea in my mind that I'll never put onto paper. From traveling across the country by Amtrak to moving into an apartment with a horrifying attic to sitting alone on a beach watching fireworks, there has been muse surrounding me on all sides. But the moment I open Word, it's gone. Before the meds, I could write 24/7. I DID write 24/7. I would stay awake all night, skip school, skip work, shut myself alone in a room and bring stories to life.
Now the words I can't even convince myself to write are as dull as real life. It's as though I can't convince my brain to get out of bed anymore. I can't pursue the one thing in life that gives me purpose. And I question if I should tell my doctor that I would like to go off the meds.