I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now.
I’m supposed to be taking medication each day.
Definitely? Probably not.
The reason I stopped taking my medication is because the source of it stopped helping. They wrote a letter to a consultant accusing me of fabricating an illness and how they would check for it.
I lost faith, they stopped helping. I’ve had numerous phone calls from the GP over the past few weeks, all of which I’ve ignored. I can’t go back to them. If I do, I’ll just sit there until I break, until I cry, until I ask them why, without any proof or anything to indicate so, they insisted to someone that I was taking medication to fabricate something.
I’ve been lying to myself about the effect it’s had. It’s been huge. Massive. The phone calls will increase when I don’t request my prescription, but I’m planning to be back to my home GP then.
I’m black, down, depressed, any way to describe it. I’m potentially at my lowest point since August.
How do I know?
I just stopped myself from taking a packet of paracetamol to drown it out.