Barnes 7th
Honors English III
3 February 2013
Swallowing
Normal
“Take this once a
day in the mornings. It’ll help with your attention problems. If you can focus
better, everything else should get easier” the doctor droned as I tuned him
out. It was just another pill, just another plan of attacking my mind in an
attempt to heal my personality. I was convinced it was not going to work and
judging from appearances so was he. I was sick of this. Some doctor’s yearning
to morph me into someone that I clearly wasn’t. My energy fueled my life. I
didn’t care what I was doing as long as I was doing something. I could never
sit still, but that was ok. I was enjoying life. And yet the doctors were
constantly attempting to fix something so broken that I had gotten used
to it, accepted it and adapted my life to fit my activity level. “There’s
nothing wrong with me!” I wanted to scream as I swallowed the capsule, sulking
the entire time. The doctors, teamed with my parents, were still intent on making
me the ideal child, one that sits still and listens; all the pills trying to
make me someone I’m not. I knew that the medicines wouldn’t do me any significant
harm yet as I swallowed them and felt them take over my thoughts, I was
scared that something was different. I could feel that I was no longer the
same.
Where were
all of my thoughts? Where did they go? I focused on one thing. Then another.
Where were all of the other details that I was missing? The pill swooped in and
took them straight out of my head. I knew the medicines were working when
I was no longer myself. For the hours until they wore off I was stuck in the
traditional world of straight facts; facts that stared at me as I sat
still, finally able to finish my work without constant redirection. People were
talking, moving, laughing, yet I remained silent, sitting and observing
everything my hyperactivity had ignored.
I longed to reach out, to yell and laugh, but
I was stuck in some condensed, simplified version of my old self. Weeks went by
where I would sit still and wonder where I had gone. I was stuck behind some mask I had never
wanted to wear. I was no longer inspired by the world. I felt as if my life
was divided by a line of before and after. Twisted by time, and contorted
through control. I was no longer my self. I was a grumpy little girl trapped by
her own thoughts, weighed down by her worries. I wanted to scream, to yell out,
but I couldn’t. I was muffled by the mask of perfection. Trying to hide my
discomfort, I pretended I was ok, pretended I was the same. I pretended until I couldn’t pretend any
longer. Until the thought of being perfect was so twisted and contorted that I
no longer wanted it. I told lies to avoid taking the medicine until I finally
told the truth—I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be anyone else. I wanted to
be me—all of me. Today I still take medicines to help me, but this time they
help me. They don’t stand in my way of happiness; they help
control me to a level of functionality which we all can work with.
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