In my senior year of high school, I went to the doctor’s office with my mom for a completely random checkup, during which she wanted to ask my doctor some questions. It was here that she dropped the bomb: I was going into college soon, which meant I should get on birth control.
I was completely mortified. I wanted a hole in the ground to open and swallow me whole. I’d read, though, that taking birth control could stabilize your period, and maybe even clear up your skin, so I figured I’d just bend at the knee and go for it.
The first time I picked up my prescription, I remember feeling weird about it. I mean, these pills were so small, but they represented such a big thing. I’d never taken any kind of consistent medication before, and this was just a pack of pills, but it was also a kind of milestone. All my life, I’d been hearing about reproductive health, and now, I was actively making decisions about my own.
People often talk about the pill like it’s routine, almost casual. This isn’t wrong at all. While it’s common, though, I’ve learned that “common” doesn’t mean insignificant. What initially made me agree to try this out became less about the medication itself and more about being in tune with my body, understanding my priorities, and being my own voice in healthcare.
Choosing My Pill
In all honesty, I didn’t know anything about which pill was which. I was extremely wary, though — all I’d heard from my friends already on the pill was that it totally ruined their lives. They felt bloated, depressed, and sometimes a little evil. This, understandably, scared me quite a bit.
My doctor, thankfully, launched into a speech about each form of the pill, what each one was made up of, what the side effects were, and much more. I’d heard a lot about the side effects, and to be totally honest, I was terrified. If you’ve seen that giant paper with all the listed potential impacts, you know what I mean.
We landed on something called MARLISSA. It was a good starting point because it’s a combination pill that’s widely used and relatively straightforward, which was exactly what I needed at the time (and now, honestly). Of course, even with that reassurance, I was all nerves. Whenever you’re doing something that affects your hormones, it feels pretty significant.
The Adjustment Period
One thing I’ve become slightly opinionated about since starting the pill is how little we talk about the adjustment period in a realistic way. It’s a somewhat black-and-white conversation, where experiences tend to be framed as either perfect or terrible, when in reality, most people fall somewhere in between.
Again, I was taking pills that had an impact on my hormones. This, of course, changed some things. I’m pleased to report that I didn’t become evil (I’m pretty sure), although I do feel slightly less patient when it comes to disrespect from others, or at least quicker to react. This is, to be honest, the only big change I’ve seen in my personality, and it’s so slight that I’m not entirely sure I didn’t make that up.
The entire experience has made me realize how unhelpful comparisons can be. Birth control isn’t a universal experience, and expecting yourself to mirror someone else only creates unnecessary pressure.
A Change in Perspective
The big surprise for me, with the pill, wasn’t any sort of physical change. Instead, it was how much starting the pill shifted the way I saw autonomy, health decisions, and personal discipline. Taking MARLISSA required me to be consistent, pay close attention, and check in with myself regularly. Of course, this isn’t to say I never did any of these things before. Birth control, though, being a medical thing, taught me not to mess around with my health.
It’s also made me more comfortable asking questions and recognizing that healthcare decisions aren’t always permanent. I can reassess, switch methods, or change my mind. That flexibility made the whole experience feel way less intimidating, and, actually, pretty empowering in its own way.
The Emotional Layer
Birth control, I’ve learned, isn’t just a medical choice. It’s all wrapped up in identity, relationships, and independence. I talk with my friends about their experiences, and this helps me see how different everyone’s journey can be, and how important it is to make space for nuance.
Sometimes I wonder how different I’d be today (if at all) had I never started birth control. Would I be shyer? Would my period take me out of class as it used to? Would my skin be different?
All these questions are kind of unavoidable at times, given the way the brain likes to make things difficult. I know, though, that I quite like who I am, and birth control is responsible for a fraction of that. I sometimes think there’s no point in “what-ifs.” One of the best things about birth control, in my opinion, is the options. If one day these “what-ifs” become too much, I can just stop or explore a different option.
What I’ve Learned
If I had to sum up my experiences with MARLISSA, it would probably come down to a few key lessons: your experience doesn’t have to match anyone else’s, small changes are still valid experiences, it’s okay to ask questions (and keep asking them), and birth control in itself is a process — not a one-time decision.
The Takeaway
If there’s one thing I feel strongly about now, it’s that we need more honest, in-between conversations about birth control. Something between the horror stories and the glowing endorsements, like more of the nuanced experiences that fall somewhere in the middle.
Starting MARLISSA didn’t dramatically redefine my entire life. It did, though, give me a deeper sense of ownership over my health and the confidence to advocate for myself and what I need.
For me, birth control isn’t just about preventing pregnancy or regulating my cycle. It’s about learning to trust myself, listening to my body, and recognizing that taking charge of my health is one of the most important things I can do.
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