Dear little pink pill,

Isn’t it funny how something so small can cause so much fear? Now that I have you in my hand, I almost find it comical we went back and forth for so long. To take you, not to take you. To take you, not to take you.

Then, one day, prescription in hand, I made the choice. My doctor smiled, told me about you and gave me a white, printed paper. I drove to the pharmacy. A kind man gave me an orange bottle, and there you were inside.

You used to scare me. A lot. I was afraid of what it would mean to take you, to make you a part of my everyday life. I was afraid of what they would say. However, what scared me more than taking you was that if I didn’t, I might always be half alive. I might always feel dual-minded like I was caught in a wave of sadness and fear I had no control over. I did not want to live the rest of my life being that way. I was too tired.

So, I embraced you. I took you. I monitored the changes. I let myself feel the fear about the unknown future ahead, but I did it anyway. I was brave enough to be honest with myself because I needed you. Because I deserve a normal life.

Taking you does not mean I am not strong enough or brave enough. I am more than enough as I am. I just need a little help. No one begrudges a person with other illnesses for taking their medicine. So I will not begrudge myself either.

Here’s to you, little pink pill. Here’s to a bright future.