my relationship with anxiety medication

TW: mental illness, anxiety, depression, irrational behavior

it’s been just over a year since i first started my medication for anxiety and depression. when i first started on it, i was so happy. getting that prescription helped me cope with  and come to terms with the fact that everything was not okay. the bottle was something tangible for me, something i could hold in the palm of my hand as if to reassure me. it truly made me feel less alone. it gave me an external source of strength when i didn’t have any left within me. but then one day something inside me changed and looking at my medication instead filled me with resentment and shame.

white and yellow

i stare down at the tiny pill in the palm of my hand; some kind of magic mix of chemicals encased in a yellow and white shell. Zoloft. annoyed that my brain doesn’t regulate these neurochemicals by itself.

taking my meds became routine – wake up, have breakfast, medication. it became so automatic that sometimes i would forget if i even took it or not. “did you see me take my medication this morning.” at this point, i didn’t even think twice about taking the medication. i still had bi-weekly check-ins with my doctor to talk about symptoms, i was actively looking into therapy options, i was still on that weird high from finally telling my family about my struggles. i kept myself accountable.

Continue reading “my relationship with anxiety medication”

Advertisement

explaining my anxiety to my family

Picture this: A traditional European family who often look to tea, sleep and praying to God Almighty as remedies for everything and anything and refer to mental illness as ‘being messed up’
Picture me: Terrified (and anxious, of course), writing this in her diary (yes, this is a real excerpt from 2 years ago):

March 15, 2015

I’m so conflicted and scared and anxious and worried and nervous and undecided and hyperventilating and having panic attacks and so fucking depressed. Someone please end this feeling cause it fucking sucks so much sometimes I think about just doing it but then I think no, I won’t do that, I can’t do that.

I can’t do it

Yeah. I basically used every synonym for “nervous” that you could find in the dictionary. Looking back, it makes me so sad that I ever felt like there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

Back to my family. What I’m trying to say here is that telling them that I couldn’t go certain places because I would have panic attacks, or that I couldn’t concentrate for more than 20 minutes because of racing thoughts, was going to be really freaken’ hard.

But, I did. 

Continue reading “explaining my anxiety to my family”