Goodbye, December. Hello, September

I was so heavily medicated at one point, it felt like I went to bed one night in December and woke up in September in God knows how many doggone years.

Photo by Maks Key on Unsplash

Everything that happened was like a dream. Not lucid nor clear.

My thoughts were unclear, and my understanding was based purely on interpretation. My own body felt alien and beyond my control.

You know the feeling when you couldn’t control the movement of your limbs in your dreams?

I was living in a state of internal isolation, trapped in this bubble where everything seemed real, yet I was completely detached.

Speaking, even though it was not much, was still a struggle. It took me an eternity to find the right words or even form a complete thought.

I felt incredibly slow, as if my mind had become stupid.

My body trembled so much I couldn't hold a spoonful of food to feed myself without making a mess.

In my vulnerable state, I would simply drop off and fall asleep anywhere, at any time. Thankfully, I was mostly at home, so I was safe.

Clarity returned to me slowly as they reduced and lifted the unnecessary medication.

It was a malicious machination, and the word tragic can't even begin to do it justice—not the fault of the medical provider, but a circumstance in which we were all created victims.

And just like that, my time was lost. A chunk of my life disappeared.

And this is only the beginning of the story; the immeasurable loss continues.

Goodbye, December. Hello, September.

©Britt H.

Thank you for reading this.

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