One of the days I was overmedicated, I remember going to bed early and couldn’t get up the next day. I didn’t have any autonomy; I had no way of expressing things, or I didn’t have the vocabulary, I didn’t have the tools. It’s an almost formal interview, like a job interview, but at the same time, it’s like you’re going to be admitted to a prison. I wanted my freedom, independence, and autonomy, but the medications didn’t allow me to have those because I wasn’t functioning properly, I could cause an accident, or hurt someone else. It doesn’t address the problem that was around me, but there comes a time when one sees it as a refuge, but also a prison; it’s constant.