Over Medicated?

I and my father sat over at Rodger’s Barbecue eating lunch today. I ordered the super burger and fries and my father got the hamburger steak with a baked potato. I swear, they are going to set up a special table in the corner just for me I eat there so often lately. I and my father started to talk about my medications and the effects they’ve had upon me recently.

“I feel extremely dizzy after taking my Luvox,” I told him. “It is almost a sensation of being drunk. It makes me apprehensive about taking it. It is a disconcerting feeling.”

I agreed. Coming off my medications is a vicious cycle and I think I am cured and get on a crazy and deluded high. I think my family is trying to control me and subdue me with the many pills they try and force upon me. It takes a hospital visit to get me back on track many times.
“You look so good though and seem to be doing so much better,” He replied. “You take those medications. It is not going to kill you.”

“Someone wrote on my journal today about eating more healthily and cutting down on their medications over the years. They called them poisons,” I then said.

“What was their diagnosis?” My father asked.

“Bi-polar,” I replied.

“We are not talking about some wild mood swings here,” Dad said. “You hear and see shit and think cameras are in the walls and bugs are in your phone. Tofu and organic food ain’t gonna cure your skewed brain chemistry.”

I smiled. My father was right. I enjoyed how he facetiously said Tofu and organic food. My father can have such a wry sense of humor sometimes.

“They called them poisons, eh?” My father said as he was leaving a tip upon the table. “That sounds like you when you are not medicated. You get paranoid and think we are trying to control you.”

I agreed. Coming off my medications is a vicious cycle and I think I am cured and get on a crazy and deluded high. I think my family is trying to control me and subdue me with the many pills they try and force upon me. It takes a hospital visit to get me back on track many times.

We then stood at the register as my father was paying.

“I am going to put sixty more dollars on his tab,” Dad told the cashier as she took out the envelope and ticket to add the amount.

“Thanks,” I said. “I really enjoy getting a good cooked meal every day and some vegetables.”

“You can’t cook and do all that,” My father said as we walked out into the parking lot to our cars. “I’ll pick you up at 9am in the morning.”

“I’ll be ready to go,” I said as I watched him get in his car and drive off.

I got in my car and drove home as well.