Blue, Yellow & Purple Pills

“Hello, this is CVS pharmacy calling to remind _____ that your prescription is ready.” This automate man has left me more voicemails than my own mother. In the beginning of my mental illness journey, the mere thought of going to the pharmacy generated an almost crippling anxiety. Was it the stress of running into one of the countless pharmaceutical roadblocks and being forced to return an additional time…or two? Was it anger that I was having to go at all? Was it financial stress that the already overpriced medications would suddenly reach even deeper into my pocket?

I cannot say for sure which one was the

leader of my anxiety. However, I do believe it

was a combination of all 3. It took many years and countless trips to the pharmacy before my anxiety finally minimized to just a nuisance. Today, it is a new feeling: self consciousness.

As a 30 something year old, walking up to the pharmacy counter to pick up my armful of prescriptions generates a paranoia that everyone is starring at me. How ridiculous to be that unhealthy at her age.

I pray people assume I’m picking them up a sick grandparent. However, secretly, sometimes I wish someone would say something. Kind or not, at least it would open up a conversation on mental illness. As I catch myself caught up in the fruitless game of wondering what others are thinking, I remember how helpful this colorful array of pills has been. As long as I feel I am on the right path with my bipolar and adhd, what other people think is of no consequence.

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