I can’t say it’s getting “easier”.

Getting out of bed isn’t a struggle.

I am starting to be more involved in the things I enjoy doing.

I don’t feel as hopeless.

I am still having issues with my anxiety.

I had to buy a pill organizer thingie so I could look at it and see that I have taken my pill…10 minutes after I have taken it, because I can’t remember if I did take it, even though my watch reminds me to take it.

So easier? No.

Better? Yes.

(I am still amazingly weird, so I have that going for me, lol.)

I can talk to TeenThing now about how she is feeling and what she is struggling with, without feeling like I gave this to her.

I had struggled with that for so long. Feeling like I was responsible for her mental illness.

Being medicated has given me some clarity when it comes to how I was not being present in my life, which means I was not present in hers.

I am able to recognize that now, and I can manage things better without falling down the rabbit hole. I can face it without beating myself up and running away.

I guess I can explain it like this: It’s a bubble wrap thing. I wrap myself up and take the hits, thinking I’ve given myself the correct armour, when all I’ve done is soften the blow a little bit.

So, I guess the meds are my armour.

I will still get dents, but I am better prepared for battle.

@crazymamaruns