Where are my meds? Literally.

A pretty good cappuccino at B3 in St Ann’s. Coffee always gets me through. And my meds. LOL!

Heading down to San Fernando today, my hometown here in Trinidad and Tobago. As my taxi driver does the hard work, I feel the usual butterflies I get knowing I will see the sights and some people I love in a bit, if even for a little bit. Passing to check my Dad, who has been a huge support as I wrestle (willingly) with my new diagnosis, and that in itself has worked wonders. Popping in to see my school friend, neighbour and famaaaaaleeeee, JR and her gorgeous daughter and it is thoughts of all of this that has me smiling. But then I remember the real reason I am heading down South (Never up South eh!).

My first month of medication finishes today and after calling several pharmacies in the Port of Spain area, I have no choice. Twelve pharmacies. Not available.

The funny thing is that the drugs that I have been prescribed, are on the Chronic Disease Assistance Programme (CDAP) here in T&T, along with an additional fifty-odd items. So you giving me the drugs free? Yay!!! But I can’t find them? Boo!!! Now if I wasn’t already crazy, this would have sealed the deal!

But forget me. At least I am willing to get the help needed for my disorder. What about those who think their Doctor is the crazy one for making such a crazy (pun intended!) diagnosis? Anti-depressants? Mood stabilizers? Drugs fir epileptic fits? For me? Yes. Others, not always so accepting.

So it is now the day after. Yes this blog post now spans two days. Because by the time I found my medication, ironically on the street I grew up on and rushed back up to Port of Spain, collected money for a tshirt order from a new friend (Hi Shannon!), popped into see my favourite client, Caboodle, got home, got food, made a cup of coffee and then when I finally sat down, I had just enough energy to take my evening dosage and pass out on the couch.

It’s now mid-afternoon and after a grocery trip and conversations with three (yes three!) school friends from South (yes here in Port of Spain) annnnnndddddd an ode to the Massy bakery staff to some head Massy honchos (including tears eh! I love drama!) I am back on the couch with a cup of coffee but with some energy to write.

I know I sound like a spoilt brat but life just feels hard sometimes. Would you not agree that life itself is filled with catch 22s? Where you are strong, you are weak? Let me explain. Like me. Amazing writer. Great idea generator. Hate logistics and implementation. Hate writing emails. Allergic to punctuality. See? It is as if we are given gifts, skills and strengths but have to work even harder their maximise their potential. You don’t find that fucked up? Pick anyone, and I am sure if asked them, everything around their strength and/or purpose in life, is hard. What we are good at is putting on the act that it is easy. And that is where we have been programmed. To keep our issues and challenges in the closet. Not this Chinee!

My blog. My issues. My choices. It’s either you relate or you don’t. It’s either you share as most of you don’t. Some of you just like the link I share on Facebook. Some say, “Great job, Mich. We love you!” And all of that is great and I love you all back. But what I really want is my words to reach far and wide, because if you feel crazy most days and suck it up everyday, then you need help and maybe my words can inspire you to get some. I haven’t committed suicide yet, ans I don’t want you to either.

Ok rambling. Where’s my coffee?

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