My brain was the instrument of my success and my pride, but it also carried all the tools for my destruction. Yes, the pills helped, but each time I put them in my mouth, it was a reminder that some people—smart people I trusted and respected—believed that I was mentally ill, that I was defective; every dose of Navane was a concession to that. More than anything, I wanted to be healthy and whole; I wanted to exist in the world as my authentic self—and I deeply believed that the drugs undermined that. And so I kept backing away from them, tinkering with the dosage, seeing how far I could go
...more
