As a society, we’ve progressed immensely in terms of treating and speaking of mental health. As students, our professors encourage us to take care of ourselves first, we have more and more resources available to us, and we are better at respecting each other’s mental health needs, whether it be spending the night doing face masks or being the shoulder to cry on. However, it is still very hard to take action for our own mental health. How many of us are the first to help a friend in need? And how many of us are the kind to ignore our own struggles? I know I am.
Close to a year ago, I took the first step toward my mental health. My anxiety was starting to hinder my life. It was starting to affect my relationships and even my physical health. I decided to find a therapist. I started by approaching CAPS, CU’s counseling services, and it was great. Everyone there was super welcoming, and the counselors there helped me find a long-term therapist. Since then, I’ve been meeting with my therapist for an hour every two weeks. It became a safe space with an objective mind to unravel the mess in my head. She really helped me put things in perspective while acknowledging my emotions.
However, I didn’t feel like I was progressing as much as I thought I could be. I could handle my anxiety day to day; I felt confident in my ability to ground myself and move forward. But when faced with some sort of stressor — a failed exam, an argument with someone close to me — and it took me back immediately. It was like for every two steps forward I took in therapy, one stressor was enough to take me one or even two steps back. So, I spoke to my therapist, and we decided that I would try anxiety medication.
The idea of being on meds was daunting to me. A year ago, I was adamant that I would never get on meds and that if I did, I’d feel like I could never be “normal” on my own. I was worried about the dependence I could have on meds. Still, I made the appointment with a psychiatrist — which is scary in and of itself — and we discussed SSRIs. Talking with him was better than I imagined. He reassured me that there was no way of becoming dependent on SSRIs because of how they work.
Neurons aren’t connected: there is a tiny space between them, and one neuron sends information to the next through that space. Think of it as a river, where you send packages to a friend on the other side. Say you send them a book: they read it and send it back to you. SSRIs essentially block you from receiving the book back, so it gets sent to your friend over and over. Serotonin is the book, and every time you read it, you feel healthier. That’s what happens in your brain with this kind of anxiety medication. The result is a new baseline for your emotions, as my psychiatrist explained. It meant that my standard would be higher, reducing my anxiety. Therefore, I wouldn’t need to be on meds for a long time. He assured me that patients usually aren’t taking SSRIs for more than a year, and we are currently doing monthly check-ins to see how I’m doing.
So far, I’ve been taking SSRIs for three months. I started this summer, and I already feel a huge difference in myself. I feel calmer every day; there isn’t this feeling at the back of my mind that something can go wrong. Yes, I do still overthink and I worry about little things more, but it’s so much easier for me to push those thoughts away. I am able to stay present in the moment and think about what I’ll do tomorrow without any negativity associated.
There is a new kind of joy in this calmness that has allowed me to be more creative, strengthen my relationships, and truly look forward to every day. My journey is still beginning and my anxiety is very much real, but the light at the end of the tunnel becomes brighter and brighter every day.