The first, last straw.
Learning to love your anxiety and depression is an excruciating process. I remember as a child, feeling confused and misunderstood. I didn’t know why some kids were able to go through the day without needing a break, or time to cry it out (“it” of course being nothing). In high school, when I began therapy, I finally had a name for this feeling I had all the time. I learned different techniques to help keep my anxiety under control, and was finally able to relax. My favorite technique was Darth Vader breathing. All you have to do is cup your hands around your mouth and breath like Darth Vader. It’s super easy, and the best part was that it was funny so it took your mind off of what you were worried about to begin with. Then college rolled around and my anxiety decided it needed more attention. I had trouble focusing in class and would leave early because I could feel a panic attack brewing. I was never an “A” student, but all of a sudden my average status wasn’t enough for me. Every quiz, exam, and essay was followed by shallow breathing, tears, and a desperate phone call to my family.
When medication is the right call.
I was always afraid of taking medication. I knew that my family history had substance abuse and I didn’t want to be next. I made the choice to give medication a try when I realized that my freshman year of college was too much for me to handle alone. I spoke to my therapist and we decided to try a light dose of anti-anxiety medication to stabilize my moods while I work through the root of my anxiety. I promised myself I wouldn’t abuse the medication, and instead take notes, learning from the whole experience.
I’m not going to lie, it was hard. The side effects were strong at first and I needed to change my lifestyle a bit to accommodate the pills. After I was in a comfortable place with the medication, things began to look up. I didn’t feel helpless anymore. I could sleep, and focus in class. Altogether my mood was balanced, and I was able to work harder in therapy. I stayed on the medication for as long as I needed. When I felt strong enough emotionally I worked my way off the drug. The transition was easy, for others it can be very difficult.
Listen to your body.
In December of my junior year of I began to feel my anxiety come back. I was losing my focus and concentration again. Worst of all, I was losing time. If you’ve done any research or studies in psychology you know that losing time is a huge red flag. I knew that, but I ignored it. After weeks of saying “Woah, I don’t remeber driving here”, or “How fast was I going”. I should have talked to someone about it, but I didn’t, and paid dearly. I got in a car accident after losing time while driving. Everyone was okay, but I learned a valuable lesson. Listen to your body, do not ignore it. I was lucky. I held myself together the best I could after the accident. In August I sought out a new therapist and looked into trying medication for a second time. I started to use a different brand of medication and the side effects were incredibly strong. I couldn’t notice the changes at first but my depression worsened with the new pill. I stayed in bed all day, I made it to work most days but avoided school and people as much as possible. When I finally broke down and told my family and therapist, we realized it was the medication, so we lowered my dosage and added an anti-depressant. My moods stabilized, but I had a lot of work to do.
Where am I now?
I still have a lot of work to do, possibly even more than before. But after going through these experiences I’ve learned some things about my mental health. I’ve learned to appreciate my anxiety and treat it as a part of me. I know now that I need to respect my weaknesses or else I will become them.
What’s your story?
-E.
Authentically Me, Eliza. 