Before I was on antidepressants, I clung kicking and screaming to the ideas that I could never take medication because it could change who I am as a person: because it meant that I wasn’t strong enough to tough out my problems without it; because there were people who were much, much sicker than me; because I might gain 50 pounds or sleep 20 hours a day. I told whoever wanted to listen that I was going to “do this on my own.”
Eventually, my legs and lungs got tired, and I had to stop kicking and screaming. I’ve been on antidepressants for three years now. In that time, I have tried to come off, unsuccessfully. And I’m back, taking them daily to, frankly, maintain my sanity.
And yet. I constantly hear people say that nobody should take antidepressants unless they “like REALLY need them” because our society is overmedicated, and because really, these problems should be solved naturally with therapy and meditation and problem-solving and not through pills. Even as I write this, my mind is so imbued with these ideas that I’m nodding my head, even though I myself know that my medication improves the quality of my life.
And for me, that’s the thing. I never had suicidal intent. Ideation, perhaps, but I think that if I weren’t on medication, I would still be alive. Even when I was sick, I usually got out of bed and went to class, and I studied because I beat myself up if I didn’t. So yeah, I’d still probably have good grades. I’d still probably go to work because, again, I’d beat myself up if I didn’t. I might not socialize much. I might not eat much. But would I survive without medication? Yes. Yes I would.
However, for me personally, medication improves the quality of my life. I stop obsessing over my every imperfection. I stop fearing that the people around me hate me, that I’m terrible at everything I do. I sleep less and I walk and talk and run and bike and travel and eat more. The quality of my life, my one life, improves if I allow myself this medication meant to help me.
And please know, these aren’t happy pills. I still struggle, but my struggles no longer consume my life in the way they would without the medication.
Here’s the way I see it, and there are millions of metaphors out there if you don’t like mine. Let’s say I got a blister on my foot. It would probably heal with time and rest and avoiding tight, closed shoes. But if I put a Band-Aid on it, it’ll hurt a little less if I bump into or rub against something. It’ll probably heal faster. It won’t get infected. Of course, many people don’t bother with the Band-Aid: some because they don’t think they need it, some because they don’t have access to the store to buy the Band-Aid, some because the blister doesn’t seem that bad, some because they plan on resting the next few days so they’ll just wait and see if it heals that way. But if I put a Band-Aid on, is that so wrong?
I think we need to be careful when we voice our opinions on medication. Because while there is plenty of proof that our country is quick to medicate and potentially overmedicate, and while there are non-medication options available that may really work for some people, nobody takes these things for fun. The person taking this little white pill every morning has been through a lot of darkness and is desperate for light. You don’t mean to be, but you’re mocking them for wanting to feel normal – for wanting to feel like you.