This article represents the writer’s own reflections on medication. Please consult your doctor or mental health professional if you are considering starting or stopping medication. This article is not intended to be medical advice as there is no one size fits all when it comes to medication.
“Still, what could I say? that I didn’t just feel depressed – instead, it was like the depression was the core of me, of every part of me, from my mind to my bones? that if he got blue, I got black? that I hated those pills so much because I knew how much I relied on them to live?”
― John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson
There are a lot of myths and stereotypes around taking medication for mental health issues. They are used as the butt of jokes or insults such as “have you taken your meds today?” “You’re clearly off your meds”. Not least is the fact that taking medication can be viewed in a negative light; that somehow it’s not really necessary if we would only do yoga/exercise/snap out of it/be positive/spend time in nature (and obviously all of these things might be very good for one’s mental health but the irony is that having mental illness can make these things absolutely impossible to even conceive of-hence the need for medication).
It’s a very personal issue. No one can really know if any type of medication will suit them until they try it. I know people who have had great effects from medication that didn’t help me at all and vice versa. Some people experience vastly different side effects from the same tablets and some, none at all. Some people would rather try anything rather than take medication. Just as we all might have different ways to treat a headache or a head cold, we are all unique.
The other complicated factor is that it’s hard to measure how and even if medication is helping. Mental illness can’t be seen or measured in the way that physical injuries or illness might be. For me, the second type of anti-depressant I took made a positive difference and I knew this because about three weeks after starting it, I was able to do things that hadn’t been possible for a long time such as reading, watching films, taking a greater interest in things and enjoying my food. It was clear that they had given me a much needed “lift”.
I decided about a month ago that I didn’t need one of my medications. It’s a drug prescribed for anxiety and I had been unsure about it for a long time. Since doing DBT I thought maybe I was ready to tackle my anxiety by myself. I was sure that the drug had contributed to my weight gain and difficulties with energy. I wanted to give it a try and even though I knew I should talk to a doctor, I didn’t. In my head I had an idea that I wanted to quietly do it and tell people after the fact-“oh, by the way, I don’t need this anymore.” It felt like a positive goal.
What I forget was…I’m not a doctor.
I weaned myself off the drug and at first, all seemed ok. The only noticeable difference was that it was difficult to get to sleep. I had expected this and had a few plans in place-books, films, hot drink; it would only last a short time. It wasn’t a big deal.
A few weeks later, I noticed that my mood was very low. I didn’t associate this with the meds change at all as the drug was anti-anxiety. I have a few long-term worries that were particularly on my mind. I told myself it was just coincidence and to press ahead.
This week I had a few appointments and turned up to them in a bad way. The anxiety was eating away at me and I was having to take PRN medication to replace the regular one. I was tired from lack of sleep and my mood was very low. The doctor was understanding and willing to talk me through the options. He explained that I was so used to anxiety that I might not always notice the effort needed to live with it and that greater anxiety levels with the associated thoughts and fears could very naturally lead to low mood. I was upset-I told them how I wanted to not need the medication. They went through the whole theory of “if it was a physical illness, would you judge yourself for needing it?” and “needing it now doesn’t mean you’ll need it forever”. I had heard them before but I could hear the truth of them.
The doctor prescribed a lower dose of the tablet I had stopped and I started taking it again yesterday evening. Part of me wanted to feel no different after it. A part of me still wanted to say “see? The meds had nothing to do with it.” But as the evening went on I noticed that I sat in one spot cuddling my dog for over an hour. My head was resting against the back of the sofa. The awful restlessness had calmed down. At bedtime I was sleepy. I didn’t want to admit it but it was a relief. It was good to go to bed without expecting to be back up an hour later.
I posted a short tweet and photo explaining what had happened and the kind responses really surprised me. So many others had similar experiences. One person pointed out that when we feel better, we think we don’t need the medication without realising that that’s why we feel better. Other people merely said that it’s so important to do whatever we need to do to feel well. A few people messaged me privately to say that they too took medication for anxiety and had never told anyone before. These sorts of messages are very special to me. I like feeling that being open about an aspect of mental illness gives someone else a way to talk about it. I remember how important this was for me.
Doctors don’t always get it right and our mental health system is particularly difficult because we rarely see the same one. In my last psychiatric appointment, I had intended to raise the question of a medication review but when it was yet another new doctor, it seemed pointless. Part of this frustration fuelled my impulse to “go it alone”. But it’s not a solution either. We need medical advice. We need the support and most importantly we need the options and choices. Doctors are the experts on medication but we are the experts on our own bodies and minds. We need to work together.
I don’t know if I’ll need medication for the rest of my life. But the experience taught me a few things about self-stigma. I would never have told someone else to go off a drug without medical advice. Yet I made myself do it and judged myself for needing the medication. Somehow, I wasn’t believing myself about the severity of my anxiety…I was inwardly telling myself to “just get over it” and that I was ok when I wasn’t. Finally-living with a condition is more important than constantly striving to be “cured” and forgetting to live in the meantime. Wherever your peace of mind comes from is totally ok.
“I finally gave in today. Admitting that I haven’t been able to do it alone, that’s defeat, right? But do a couple of pills change why I’m here? Will my spirit be altered? Do my passions change?”
Crystal Woods