I went off of my medication that I've been on for over two and a half years two months back. The first month i spent fighting going through withdrawls which I thought would surely be the worst part of this process. About a month into it i had 3 nightmares in a week---only one that i actually remember, the others my boyfriend told me about as i was screaming and lashing out in my sleep. Within the past two weeks I started feeling really down but I figured I just needed to get out and do more. So now I am doing more but not feeling any better. It's like I can't wait for people just to leave me alone so I can break down. I haven't had break downs like this in months, and not this regularly in over a year! I'm not even entirely sure about what. The only way I can begin to wrap my head around this is like I just came out of a medication coma and now I am dealing with the hurricane that ripped through my life and it's a god awful sight. It's as if the fog has lifted and all I see around me is emptiness and nothing with broke and abandoned things that is now my life. Everytime I tell another close one about how I'm feeling is as if the mirage out in the distance that I once was apart of becomes dull and gray just like my surroundings.

Coming off of all of the damn pills was a big accomplishment for me and I let EVERYBODY know that I was doing better. Now as I look around me for somebody's shoulder to cry on I am afraid to tell anybody just how I am really feeling. I think me going off of my medicatons was the happiest moment for everybody else around me, not so much me. All anybody ever wanted was for me to get off of all of my meds and I did too! However, I think what we all forgot was that just becasue I am off of everything doesn't make me better. I'm in this strange world that is over 2 and a half years in my future with feelings, lost of them! And I have memories of things that have happened during that time but no feelings to go with those them. Just snapshots in my mind of the walking corpse medication made me. Almost as if before my assault I had color both inside and outside of me. Then I was assaulted and all of the colors vanished. Medication gave my world color and made me percieve to be great but I couldn't feel them as the inside of me was dark with secrets and horror. Now I've finally been able to deal with it enough to make life liveable so I stopped medications. Doing this made my soul flourish with color. I was able to feel things. Now it seems as if I keep feeling things. Almost as if that 2 and a half years of not feeling anything decided to attack me all at once to make up for lost time. As a result things seem so colorless on the outside. So fake and artifical, so, emotionless -- colorless.