Aug 14, 2015
I want to start off by saying it was probably a little scary for you when I just abandoned my account for a few months after posting such a stressful and helpless post, so I just want to say I'm sorry if I caused any panic (though I probably didn't). I guess this is just a little update on how things have been going, and why I'm back now.
The short version of the story is that I tried to abandon my medication. My body image issues have gotten especially bad in the past year, and though I've never gone to extremes to fix it (not eating, laxatives, barfing, etc.), I wasn't (and still isn't) the happiest girl either. When I started taking medication, it was around the same time I stopped working out. It wasn't much activity; just some lunges, crunches and light weights whenever I watched TV. I went from 116 (I'm 5' 4", by the way) to 108 in a few months. And wether it was the Prozac or me celebrating the loss for too long, I ended up gaining back even more weight than what I started with. I immediately blamed it on my meds without thinking, and I was switched to Zoloft, which did not help. I started working out even harder than I had before, and I was more strict about my diet, but I did NOT notice changes. If anything, I gained even more weight than before Zoloft (I haven't gotten on a scale in awhile, considering it's not the best tool to measure your physical health, but I'd say I'm now well into the 130 region. At 14 years old. Yeah.). I frequently discussed the issue with my mom, and she said she'd call my doctor but didn't get around to it. We eventually realized my "Prozac weight gain" phase might not have even been due to the drug, so my mom found an old bottle of it and told me to start talking it again. But I didn't.
I didn't stop taking it on purpose. I have two houses (yay for divorce), and when packing a bag to go from one house to the other I guess I just forgot it. I didn't even remember I was supposed to be taking something until 3 to 4 days later, and then I sort of just took it on as a challenge. "How Long Can Wonder923 Survive the No-Drug Life?" (hint: it wasn't long).
Which leads me to now. After several arguments with parents and lectures on "alternative options", I finally cracked and couldn't take the intrusive thoughts on my own. I gave in and began self-medicating again. Look, I just want to be normal. I don't want to forever be on a crutch for an incurable illness. Why is it so hard for me to accept that life may just have to be that way for me? Don't know, but I guess it's just the way it is. Sorry for the bummer post, but I felt I owed you guys an explanation. Thank you for being so supportive <3
(P.S., It's incredibly stupid to switch your medication and/or change up how often you take it without your doctor's permission. Seriously. I was dumb and messed around with stuff I didn't know enough about, and if it was the right substance, I could've died. Moral of the story: Wonder923 does not lead by example)