And I want you to know it’s okay if you do, too
I take medication for my brain. There I said it.
Specifically, I take anxiety medication. A SNRI–serotonin norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor. But other people take SSRIs, or selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. Both of these types of medication are anti-depressants, although they are widely used for generalized anxiety disorder, too. Other people take beta-blockers or anti-histamines when symptoms of anxiety come on. Whatever you and your doctor decide is the best for you is great and I’m so happy you’re finding something that works for you!
But, why do so many of us get nervous telling people we take meds? No one minds saying that they take medication for headaches (okay, also for the brain but a different type), or for heart health, or digestive health.
Well, I take medication for my mental health.
I think the first time I can remember having anxiety, although I didn’t know that’s what it was at the time, was when I was in 2nd grade and was scheduled to altar serve for the first time. I ended up not being able to do it because I was so nervous and anxious. Not just butterflies and jitters, this was crying, breathing problems, shaking, and a feeling like I couldn’t move. But somehow, even back then I was 8, I was aware of the stigma enough to try and hide just how anxious I was.
Fast forward to high school and my anxiety definitely hadn’t improved. Much like other teenagers in the U.S., I was fixated on achieving perfect grades, a well-rounded list of extra curricular activities, volunteer time, and maintaining a social life. But, I was surrounded by peers who were doing the exact same thing. We were taking the hardest courses available to us, and me and one of my best friends graduated top two of our class. We seemed normal and just like everyone else. That’s what makes me sad, though, it isn’t normal to be unable to relax, to have racing thoughts, to be overly irritable, to constantly worry about everything even when you know it’s completely irrational. Societal pressure on teens and young adults is an entirely different topic but it definitely played a role in my own mental health experience.
The transition to college was challenging for me. I hated being away from home, I struggled to find “my people” and was overwhelmed by the amount of people who didn’t seem to care that they weren’t 21 while I was very much a law-abiding citizen. My anxiety worsened, but I still felt like it wasn’t that bad or that I shouldn’t complain about it. I remember in the spring semester, I threw up every single Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before my biology class. At first, it was only once I got to the classroom and I would run to the bathroom like clock work. As the semester progressed, it was on my way to class, and by the end of the semester, it was in the bushes right outside my dorm building. Finishing the walk to class felt nearly impossible and I showed up sweaty and shaking just from trying to get myself to the class. I felt petrified and was acutely aware that I was not getting an A, and felt out of my league amidst the other students who were biology majors (I, on the other hand, am a psychology and studio art major).
I have never been known as a calm person, probably. If any of my high school teachers are reading this, they might not be entirely surprised because many of them went out of their way to try to get me to relax. But, I have always been known as a person who “has it together” and who others looked to for an example of how to act. And that definitely contributed to me hiding my anxiety for so long. I didn’t want to let people down. If I’m being truthful, I also didn’t want to lose my “status” of being Miss Life-Put-Together, either. I was, I am, so proud of that.
Fast forward to sophomore and junior year of college and my anxiety seemed to touch all aspects of my life. It morphed from being performance and social anxiety into generalized anxiety. In other words, I worried about everything. All the time. If I went somewhere, I had to know where all of the exits were and was constantly scanning the room for how I could get out. I realized that someday, my parents will die and would stay up for hours at night agonizing over how I would move on without them. I had nightmares almost every night and thought it was normal.
If I walked somewhere alone, I had a constant stream of safety precautions running through my head. Hold my car keys between my fingers so I could defend myself. Don’t wear my hair in a pony-tail. Talk on the phone so you’re less likely to be kidnapped. Always park under a lamp, even if that means being further away. Walk around your car before getting in to make sure no one is lurking. As soon as you get in your car, lock your doors. Don’t program your actual home address as “home” in your GPS in case someone gets in your car and wants to get to your house and rob you. Make sure you know how to hold the iPhone power button to send an emergency call. Never, ever, ever eat or drink anything if you didn’t make it yourself or see it made in front of you. Don’t drink, don’t take Ubers, don’t do this and don’t do that.
I know most women are aware of how to be safe alone and that’s a problem in its own right. But I told some of my female friends about this and my parents and they all said that’s not how they felt about things. It wasn’t a constant stream for them.
I thought they were just being irresponsible. I was normal.
The summer before my senior year was the first summer I didn’t live at home. I had a job at my college’s library and lived on campus. I was miserable. I cried every single day. I would go home after work and feel like I was dying. I don’t remember most of the summer because I was so upset all the time. And it wasn’t because of the people I worked with or the job, they’re amazing people that I work with during the year and are the reason I want to be a librarian.
The night before senior year started, my boyfriend and I broke up. I had a panic attack and he almost took me to the hospital because I couldn’t stop hyperventilating. As the semester progressed, I went home every single weekend. I was terrified to go anywhere other than class, work, and home. I decided that I wasn’t going to attend my graduation. So many people, what if I had to go the bathroom and couldn’t? What if I passed out in the heat? What if I tripped and fell down the stairs? What if…what if….what if….. I just didn’t know how to tell my parents or friends yet.
I had to make decisions about the future. What would I do? Where would I go? One Saturday morning, I drove home, still in my pjs, and started sobbing to my mom as soon as I walked in the door and saw her. How was I supposed to afford to live on my own but people look down on college graduates who live at home and I’m an overacheiver, I can’t be one of *those* people?!? How was I ever going to survive? I didn’t think I would. I had started going to therapy, although that was focused more on coming to terms without getting out of a toxic relationship. I could tell myself how irrational I was being, I mean I study psychology, I’m great at helping other people with their anxiety but I couldn’t get any of it work on me.
Over winter break, I was incapable of relaxing. I would be laying down to watch a movie and my pulse would be over 100. My thoughts were racing all the time, I was snappy and mean to my parents, I felt trapped. I honestly felt like I had lost my mind and had little hope it would change. My dad has often worried about me and how often I worry. He would hug me and tell me he felt bad that he couldn’t help me worry less. When I was a young teenager, I think he thought I was just being dramatic but as I got older, he realized I truly did worry all the time, about anything and everything under the sun. I finally realized I wasn’t normal, the way I felt wasn’t normal, it was actually terrifying.
I went to the doctor. If you don’t know me, I have extreme fear of medical professionals. My doctor even has it noted that I have “extreme health care anxiety.” I could barely speak, I actually had to show her my notes app in my phone to tell her how I felt. She said “So you still have anxiety then?” I guess I had mentioned it a few years prior but had said it wasn’t bad and didn’t interfere with my daily life. Ha! I always underplay everything. She immediately listened, prescribed anxiety medication that I started taking the next day.
Let me tell you, I noticed a difference on the first day. For one thing, my pulse was down to 95 which was low for me. I watched a movie and actually watched it. A few weeks later, and I felt like a new person. I was happy, I was laughing, I wanted to go out with my friends and be social. Not only did I want to go to graduation, I accepted a nomination to be considered for the baccalaureate speaker. Although I am still figuring out my dosage and have experienced insomnia as a side effect, I can’t believe I went nearly my entire life thinking the way I felt was normal. My pulse is down to 72-75, I haven’t had a panic attack, I even am going on a spring break trip with my friends which is something I wouldn’t have even considered doing before.
I’m here to tell you that it does get better. Worrying all the time is not normal. Being so nervous that you can’t move or are incapable of doing things is not normal. Butterflies are normal. Racing thoughts and resting heart rates above 100 (without some other medical condition) are not normal.
Ask your doctor about trying anti-depressants or anxiety medication. You are worthy of having a good quality of life. You are worthy of enjoying life, smiling, and having fun. You should not be ashamed, you should not feel broken or like you are less of a good person for needing medication for your brain.
