It all started when I was about nine years old: the excessive crying, the loneliness, the feelings of inadequacy. I was told that it was just growing pains; the early onset of puberty. Throughout middle school, it only worsened. I was told that everyone feels like this in middle school. In high school, the apathy, sadness, and constant tears and mood swings finally drove my mother to suggest that I needed to see a professional, and said professional officially diagnosed me with depression at the age of 17.
As I grew older, this diagnosis would shift into dysthymia, which is a constant, lower-level state of depression. You have to show symptoms for at least two years to warrant this diagnosis, whereas you only have to have six months worth of symptoms for a depression diagnosis. The thing about dysthymia, though, is that I will probably be dealing with it for the rest of my life simply due to an imbalance in my brain chemistry. This is just the way I operate, a fact which was very hard to accept at first. Soon, this diagnosis would expand to include general and social anxiety and disordered eating behaviors, all of which worsen when my dysthymia does.
Growing up in a household where my mother was hesitant to even take Advil unless she desperately needed it, I was very against medication for a long time, even though my counselor repeatedly suggested it. I didn't want to turn into a "zombie", and I had heard horror stories from my friends who had been on medication for years and then went through hell when they tried to quit. I was afraid. However, my sophomore year of college brought with it one of the darkest places I have been in in a long time. I was sleeping 16 hours a day, forgetting to turn in assignments, crying on the phone to my mom everyday about how I couldn't see any light at the end of this tunnel. I was genuinely scared for myself. Around this time last year, I decided that I couldn't live this way anymore. I went to student health and after a couple of tries, landed on 20 mg Lexapro.
I've been on antidepressants for almost a year now, and honestly, I don't have anything bad to say about them. I've only had to up my dosage one time, as my body simply adjusted to metabolizing the 10 mg dosages either quickly, and they just stopped working. However, since I doubles my dosage, life has been excellent.
Being on antidepressants doesn't mean that I don't feel anything; it doesn't make me happy all the time and never upset. The bad things I experience simply roll off my back easier and don't force me to retreat back into my bed burrito and sleep through the rest of my classes for the day. If I get a low grade on a test, I'm still upset about it, but I don't spiral into thinking that my life is over and I'm a complete and utter failure. Also, my highs can finally actually be high. I had forgotten what it feels like to actually laugh and feel pure joy without anything holding me back; without that voice inside my head telling me that something bad is probably about to happen. I can just live.
This doesn't mean that everything is all sunshine and roses though. There is still a huge stigma surrounding mental health and what it means to take antidepressants. I hesitate to put it on my list of medications, list depression as an illness I have on insurance forms, and am even embarrassed to ask for my prescription from the Walgreens pharmacist. I have made a conscious effort to start being open about my use of medication, because it doesn't make me crazy or weak - it just makes me a normal person. I'm just doing what I can to live my best life, and no one's opinion is going to stop me.
