My yoga instructor told me yesterday that this is the month of sitting with difficult thoughts. I had been doing a lot of that so here is one:
I have found my thoughts this month coming back again and again to what we give up to be "normal." I know normal is the wrong word, but I can't think of a better one. In many cases, this is the price we pay for taking psychotropic medications, not financially, but personally. I think often people forget that these loses are real. Or sometimes it isn't medication, but just a type of self-stifling that we do, to keep ourselves in check, to not let the seems show in the fabric of our personalities so that we can write that last paper, make that last phone call, finish that last article, be that supportive friend. It's often the people who love us the most who may forget we've lost something by only showing these versions of ourselves, the ones that are competent and sane and yes, normal, because they are so relieved that we are spared (and they are spared) from the more difficult aspects of differences.