Happy Pills

Anyone close to me has probably heard me speak pretty candidly about my thoughts on mental illness and my own struggles with depression. However I still cling to the fear of speaking openly about it. I somehow feel the need to "prove" to someone that I am somewhat normal before they find out that I take medicine to treat a legitimate illness. Were this any other illness-- asthma, a headache or the flu--no one would bat an eyelash at the idea of taking a pill to minimize the problems and pain. Even with the exponentially growing number of people who are taking anti-depressants, a certain stigma still remains for those of us who choose to take medication. 

I was admittedly reluctant myself to take medication. It took breaking up with my boyfriend, pushing all my friends away, and bringing my mother to tears multiple times before I would even consider such an absurd idea. It wasn't until my childhood friend, with whom I had never had a real fight in the then decade+ of our friendship, told me frankly that I was mean. She said it just like that. "Brittany, you're mean." She told me I was mean to everyone -- my friends, my family, the people who loved me the most. And somehow at that moment it clicked. I realized that I was mean. And I began to accept that, perhaps my meanness had nothing to do with some inherent evil within me, but rather a chemical imbalance in my brain that caused by to not see situations clearly and be unable to control my emotions. So I decided to give it a try. 

I saw a doctor who had me monitor my moods and feelings. It all seemed silly, and I kept clinging to the idea that I should be able to fix myself. When I looked around me, I saw everyone else's happiness, so where was mine? It had to be something I was doing wrong, something that I should be capable of fixing, with enough effort. Everyone else did it.. what was wrong with me? 

I'm not going to pretend that I started taking a little yellow pill every day and that my life turned around and that now I am perfect and blissful and married with three kids. On the contrary, I am single, I have moved from France to Atlanta to New York in the past four years in search of an environment that would allow me to explore true happiness and find a real calm within myself. I have not yet found it, but I will not stop looking.  

It was months after starting my medication before I noticed any sort of change. And wasn't until I had the hindsight of a few years that I could look back and truly remark a difference in my behavior. Don't get me wrong, I still struggle with the debilitating feelings of worthlessness that prevent me from getting out of bed on some really bad days. But at least those days are much less frequent, and I can see past the fog and recognize that there is in fact a light at the end of the darkness. 

Sometimes I describe my depression as a dark cloud inside of me. Even when I am happy, I know it is still in there, and I can still feel it. Sometimes even that one demented thought that comes from the fear of inevitably being depressed again can send me on a spiral from complete content into a dark, sad hole. And on some days, without even expecting it, that dark cloud will completely envelop me. It can sometimes hang around for days, or even weeks, depending on how manageable outside factors are. 

I do make a point of pursing any and everything that I know does make me happy. That has occasionally led me astray, as some happiness is so available and so instantaneous. But that type of happiness is nearly always temporary. Quick fixes tend to leave you worse than when you started, and lusting for something more tangible and enduring. I'm fortunate that I began taking medecine before I did anything too damaging. Controlling my levels of serotonin has given me the emotional control of the and clarity of realizing that fact. 

The clarity and control granted by controlling my chemical imbalances has also given me the patience and endurance to find other, more lasting forms of happiness, and healthier ways to deal with my illness. I try to practice yoga daily. I walk everywhere I can. I find it brings me peace of mind. I also voraciously read every book by the world's most respected philosophical and spiritual leaders to help guide me. I am learning the art of meditation, and I find writing to be quite therapeutic. 

Accepting my depression was the first step to getting better. Although I am nowhere near perfect, I can at least revel in life and not alienate my close companions. For a short period I wrestled with the dilemma of taking a chemical that changed my brain configuration and still practicing yoga and meditation. The two seem to clash. However, I know that without the medication it wouldn't even be possibility for me to be open to the type of transformation that yoga and meditation can potentially bring. 

One day I hope that I can find inner peace without the need for a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. But in the meantime I cannot deny the reality of its success in my case. And I'm slowly inching toward the acceptance of admitting that I do take a brain chemical regulator, without feeling a fear of judgement. But being on medicine gives me the clarity of seeing that it is ME who needs to get past that fear. And getting past fear is one of the hardest part of mental illness.