It is a cruel and bitter irony that yesterday, I woke up feeling rested and ready to take on the world, whereas today I am exhausted. I forgot to take my evening medications on Sunday. I woke up several times in the night, had some surreal dreams that I couldn't quite chalk up as nightmares but just confusing, and laid there worrying about some of the most random things before I fell a sleep Sunday. Last night, I woke up a couple times but I slept most of the night. And here I am, ready to crawl back into bed and sleep.
I hate these damn pills. I hate that I need them to function. I hate the guilt I feel for taking them and questioning if I am a 'druggie' for it. Being a 'druggie' was being one of the lowest of all people in the eyes of my parents. They didn't care if you legitimately needed the medication. They tried to talk me out of vaccinating my children because of how entrenched their loathing of medication has become over the years.
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