v.6 Better Living Through Chemistry (and Zero Apologies): When Mental Health Calls for Meds
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, share ideas, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
A little round magic pill.
NOTE: Below is an essay that I wrote in 2020. I’ve decided to re-share it (without refinements or fancy edits) here on Life, Created because the message around mental health is just as valid today as it was then. Onwards, friends.
My head has felt clouded for the better part of a year, probably longer but it’s been exponentially compounded over the past 6 months. Days pass where exactly one thing may get checked off my to-do list (of twenty items) and others where I can’t do anything at all. Then there are other times when I can do ALL. THE. THANGS. and then immediately crash. My default thought process might be “I’m a damn mess…” except, well, I’m not. I can confidently say that I generally have my shit together. But lately, I’ve been overwhelmed, exhausted, grieving, surviving, and barely hanging on while the world that I used to know crashes down around me. These have been extraordinary times even by my “I can do anything” standards.
“Mental Health is our “silent” crisis. There is no shame in speaking out and seeking help.”
—Viola Davis
Anyway. Back to me [not] being a hot mess. I haven’t been myself. There, I’ve said it. The weight of the last few months has taken its’ toll beyond what I, alone, am capable of managing. I talked with Ira (my hot husband) and at his brilliant suggestion, I reached out to my doctor. Know this: western medicine is rarely my default. I will try every gemstone, essential oil, yoga pose, herb and mantra before I go to a doctor.
But by this point, I knew I needed more than what any essential oil could do; sister needed a medical intervention.
My doctor and I spoke for 25 minutes and agreed that I would start a new antidepressant medication. After being on my previous anti-anxiety medication for 6+ years— with 2020 being 2020, it quit on me. What a surprise, right?
I shared this in an intimate Dear Grown Ass Women® gathering last week and asked if any of the other women were on any type of antidepressant or anxiety medication so I could learn about their experiences.
Anyway, can you guess what the answer was? EVERY SINGLE WOMAN on the gathering is (or was) on some kind of medication for something having to do with mental health. There were nine women on that call. (This is not a community for women with anxiety or depression; it’s simply a social community for diverse women 35+ to connect, elevate and gather.)
I get the importance of mental health. I thought I did, anyway. (I‘m on social media and let’s be honest, isn’t that where we learn most thangs?! No, just me then?) But seriously, I share the pithy brightly colored graphics about mental health awareness. Addiction and mental health issues run in my family; I’ve educated myself a fair amount. And hell, I speak about mindset for a living, ya know, brain stuff.
But. And.
Still somehow I’d been under the impression that I was some sort of rare and delicate flower that needed to be on medication while most other grown ass women could just manage on their own with a yoga mat underneath them, a magical wand in one hand & a gemstone in the other. But NO, that is absolutely not true. For fuck’s sake, so many of the brilliant, talented, curious, interesting and gorgeous women I know ALSO need help and also take medication when needed to support their mental health. How did I not know better?
This matters deeply because we live in a society where we often feel like we should be able to handle everything that life throws our way and even do so with a fucking smile on our face. Especially women. And more especially, women of color.
And in 2020 (and now in 2024), we still feel so much shame about needing support. Being on any form of medication serving our mental health (and brain) is still considered an outlier. It is not'; it’s the norm and we just don’t talk about it enough, especially as grown ass women who feel like we have to constantly be in full control and “have it all together.”
We need to have these conversations with more transparency around mental health. We have to normalize medication and medical interventions, when needed. And by doing so, we release shame and can begin to restore our sense of self, our confidence and our own baseline for a new “normal.” Collectively, we can experience a lot less shame and lot more acceptance. Let’s give this a go, shall we?
NOTE: I am not a doctor or mental health expert. I am sharing my own experience. Please do seek help with your own doctor if you need ANY support at all and do not use anything I share as advice. Instead, it is informational.
Every essay will feature a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
Today’s microjoy: a simple pleasure as timeless as it is refreshing—warm water with a few slices of lemon and a hint of mint. It’s delightfully low-key yet oddly fancy. Sip, smile, repeat. (Also, very good for digestion when you start off with this before your first cup of coffee.)
PS. 🧡If you respond [and I hope you do!], please do so in the comments on the blog itself because it's a challenge to keep up with emails in my inbox in response to blog posts.)
Welcome to Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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