As many of you know, I have had some adverse moments a few years ago surrounding to my medication adherence. Still, it took time for me to understand the necessity of taking it. I needed to be consistent. I also had to recognize that I no longer wanted to live the life I was living. I had to be patient. I needed to give myself grace. I had to understand the need to be consistent. It would take time to get better.

I was battling many changes and challenges at the time. On top of that, I wasn’t being kind to myself. It hurt deeply knowing that I was hurting myself. I had eventually learned that my medication for mental health was just as powerful as medication for any physical ailment. Recognizing this was crucial. In fact, when I was not being adherent, I would become physically sick. I would often live through it and pretend everything was fine. Still, it was not fine. I needed to understand that taking medication makes me feel better. The only way to achieve this is to follow the directions exactly as they are.

Understanding the need to be both consistent and patient was difficult. Recognizing that the value of consistency would pay off in the long run was also a challenge. I had been battling this issue for nearly a decade. I was not willing to listen to my parents at first. I had learned the hard way twice that was not a good idea.

As my parents continue to age, I understand they do not need to consistently worry. They shouldn’t question whether I am taking care of myself in the way that I need to. There was also a part of me that wanted to stop fighting the internal dialogue. This was because I didn’t feel enough, nor was I happy with myself. Eventually, I found peace. I was satisfied and happy. I realized that taking care of my mental health as prescribed was the best approach.

I understood that things would never return to how they were before I lived on my own. This change would not happen if I had not done what was best for me all along. This approach proved to work decades before I left my parents’ home. I had to learn that my parents were not trying to rule me. They were seeking out what was best for me to thrive in the world. The medication prescribed to me had just as much value as it did to someone with physical health issues. Eventually, I realized this for myself. I had to finally put my foot down once and for all. I said goodbye to the old habits and got back on track.

Of course, there were moments that were harder than others, but I pushed through them. I started making better food and drink choices. I knew they were contributing to my weight gain. Eventually, walking more would become a better habit than it was. I had begun to let go of those old useless theories. I realized I was just as good as a person just as I am. The lack of medicine did not make that better. Not having it made it more challenging to exist. Eventually, I reached a point where I did not have control, and I crashed.

Knowing that I was fine, I was patient, gave things a chance and let things be what they were. If I had never tried the other things while medicated, then how would I know if they were possible? I had long believed flawed theories and thoughts. They were untrue, and I allowed myself to believe them. The disease was kicking in high gear. Once I saw that, I began to let go of those thoughts. I allowed myself to lay the secret I had carried for years to rest. I was doing the right thing once and for all. Things were increasingly getting better because of it!