“Jesus loves me this I know, for he gave me Lexapro”

Oh Glennon Doyle. How I love thee. Since apparently I’m not witty enough to come up with a catchy title for this article, or deep enough for a profound one. I’ve settled for borrowing this quote from one of my shero’s, because it very simply and relevantly applies to my mental health experience, and how I came to be on an antidepressant.

The first time I experienced a major bout of depression was about eight years ago when I was in my sophomore year of college. I remember feeling such a profound sense of fear, hopelessness, and anxiety that really froze me dead in my tracks. In the eight years since, I’ve waltzed with my depression on and off, hitting the marks so perfectly each time with such familiarity. I can usually determine the circumstances and life events that’ll soon set the stage for the dance to begin. But the last two years however, I’ve noticed that my tolerance for juggling my depression has decreased severely, and things like talk therapy and exercise was just no longer enough. I realized that I couldn’t continue to just shrug it off, and distract myself with something until the tide passed. At the time of this revelation I was going through a rough time professionally –more on that in another post, and felt as if I was racing though traffic in a sports car going 90mph, suddenly crashing full force into a head on collision. Panic attacks set in, my behavior became a bit erratic—more than the usual monthly PMS kind. My drinking got heavier honestly, I’m not gonna lie, I even blacked out a few times from it. I didn’t show up to events and gatherings that caused me anxiety, and if I did show up I ducked out early. The most heartbreaking of them all is that I began to ultimately sabotage my relationship with my then fiancée. I knew this wasn’t acceptable behavior of someone in the latter half of their 20s. More importantly though, I knew this just wasn’t acceptable behavior for someone who just simply knew better, and had a community of people who loved and cared for her if she needed help.

After years of just picking myself up, dusting myself off, and getting back into the game, this last time around things just felt different. The previous methods I learned in talk therapy proved futile in removing the dark cloud above my head. And the time I spent in that dark space seemed to outweigh the time I spent in the lighter space. So after much contemplation, and talks with a few trusted loved ones, I decided to try a new approach—antidepressants. Arriving at this destination was hard for me because irrationally, I felt like I was taking the easy way out. I knew and understood that deciding to take medication wasn’t a sign of weakness or submission, but truth is I’d grown accustomed to wrestling in the mud with my depression, and feeling victorious when I found non medicated routes that were successful in fighting it. So now the thought just simply taking a tiny white pill every day to fight the battle for me, just felt a little bit like giving up. Like I’ve resigned myself to the common American way of thinking-- of getting all the success with putting in minimal effort. Simply put, I felt guilty.

Guilty that I was ridding myself of the giant dark cloud, and entering back into the light bright world—with virtually no scars proving that I deserved to win the war. Well that sounds ridiculous doesn’t it? Because in actuality I’ve got eight years of various small wars and big battles that have left permanent imprints on my life. Eight years of trying different methods to see what works and what doesn’t, and beginning medication is no different. It’s the continued effort and commitment to bettering myself that has gradually gotten me to this point and this decision. But then the thought sinks in—what if medication doesn’t work? Or what if, like many folks, I have to try out numerous antidepressants to find out which one works best? Could I resign myself to the rollercoaster ride that could be waiting for me, all in the hopes of mental levelness? Well this is where I had to realize that I’m indecisive by nature, and that I’d never know how medication would help me until I just took the damn thing. So after finally scoring an appointment with the social worker—which took months by the way, and is for determining whether or not someone needs medicinal intervention, I finally saw that nurse practitioner who was slated to prescribe me that small circular white pill.

I detailed to her the panic attacks, the anxiety, the sleepless nights, the random crying fits. To everything I said she nodded her head in understanding, while typing away furiously on her computer. After about fifteen minutes together, she said one word—Lexapro. Honestly I was dreading hearing the name of the drug she was going to put me on. Firstly, because of the above irrationalities, it just made it all the more real that I was going on something. Secondly, because I was hoping she’d put me on Wellbutrin. I’d heard that Wellbutrin had virtually no chances of sexual side effects, and I knew two people who took them, so I just generally trusted them more. Wellbutrin or Bupropion is a type of antidepressant that belongs to NDRI (norepinephrine-dopamine reuptake inhibitor) family. Bupropion meds act on dopamine—which like serotonin, are neurotransmitters that are referred to as the “happy hormones” because they help regulate mood and emotion. However, while they don’t often have a negative effect on sex drive, they’re atypical antidepressants, which mean they aren’t always capable of treating severe depression and anxiety disorders.

Lexapro on the other hand, which deals with creating more serotonin and is classified as an SSRI, doesn’t just absorb the levels of serotonin your brain; it prevents the surrounding cells from absorbing the serotonin that’s already been released, so those happy hormones are just kind of sitting in your head, leaving you content and happy. So sexual side effects aside—which yes there can be some, like difficulty reaching orgasm or just never being in the mood, Lexapro has been a fucking Godsend. Though I haven’t yet experienced childbirth, I imagine it’s like the difference between feeling every ounce of pain associated with contractions, then suddenly getting an epidural. You still feel some pressure and discomfort, but for the most part you can handle it. Before the Lexapro I was struggling, and that’s putting it mildly. I was stuck in bed for days, not eating, I didn’t even want to get up to use the bathroom. Everything just seemed so difficult and it took a tremendous amount of energy to do the bare minimum.

Now, four months into being on that little small white pill, I feel like I’m reacquainting with an old friend. The antidepressant hasn’t completely eradicated my lows, but they’re much easier to deal with. When I see the dark clouds rolling in, I can throw on my rain jacket, open up my umbrella and wait patiently for the storm to pass. Knowing confidently—more importantly, that it will. Especially right now during the COVID-19 pandemic, I’m so thankful that I finally mustered up the courage to seek out medication. These are really uncertain times, which can bring up anxiety for anyone. But for someone who has a diagnosed anxiety disorder, this can be absolute hell and my heart goes out to anyone who is struggling at even higher levels than normal. As a culture we’ve begun to speak more candidly about mental health issues in recent years. And I think personally if there’s one positive consequence from this pandemic, it’s that mental health has really taken a front seat for a lot of people. In times like this you can’t really run away from the stillness that’s engulfing us. We’re being forced to sit, listen, and truly process our thoughts and feelings, and it’s a life altering skill once you learn the importance of doing so. I know that there may come a day where I’ll have to decide if I need to continue with the medication. I’m unsure if this will be a life thing, or a chapter thing, so I’m doing my best to learn that stillness I’ve spoken of above. I hear Yoga works, I hear meditation works—I’ve yet to try either. But I know that I should, and I will in due time. Right now, I’m celebrating the fact that this is the most authentic I’ve been in years, and I finally feel like I’m living with purpose every single day. Maybe that too is the Lexapro talking, or perhaps it’s just personal growth. Either way, tomorrow morning I’ll reach into my cabinet, and swallow them both with thankfulness and assurance, and wait as they work their magic.