A few weeks ago, a friend told me she’d been recently diagnosed with a mental illness. A fairly serious one. And my reaction surprises me, even now. I said, “Take the meds.”
What surprised me about my statement is that I’m not a “take the meds” kinda person. I’m a person who has indeed taken the meds when I’ve needed them, but not without weeks or months of internal dialogue and much back-and-forth. Usually, before I make any life-changing (or even not life-changing) decision, I also consult a panel of friends and family for some “what would you do” advice. And sometimes, I decide I’m too afraid of potential side effects to the meds to actually take them.
My mind works like that–I think of the side effects as a given, but I rarely consider the benefits and improvements. I’m a pessimist, obviously.
When I was depressed at age 20, I took the meds. When I was having terrible bouts of anxiety in my mid-twenties, I took the meds. But over the past few years of milder anxiety, severe PMS, and seasonal depression, I’ve relied on supplements and vitamins and other lifestyle changes instead. Not on meds. Sometimes I think about how life would have been different had I taken the meds. I’ll never know how they would have affected me–positively or negatively. I like to think that if things ever get too scary, I’d take the meds. But I know I wouldn’t take them just because a friend told me to take them.
I told my therapist about my response to my friend after I realized, a few days later, first that I said it at all and second, how it made me feel–like a big fat hypocrite and like I barely considered what my friend was feeling and dealing with before I blurted out “take the meds.”
What I now wish I’d told my friend is this:
Mental illness is scary when you’re first diagnosed. It’s sometimes even scarier before you’re diagnosed! That diagnosis opens up the path to recovery, whether that includes medication or not. Only you and your doctor (and sometimes it takes a second doctor, or a therapist or other health care professional) can make that decision. Don’t be persuaded by friends and family who are probably inundating you with their initial, gut reactions (like “take the meds,” for example). That’s what my response to your news was–a gut reaction because I care about you and want you to feel better. Instead of saying “take the meds,” I should have said “I want you to feel better” and “I’m here for you.” I also should have provided some resources to you, like websites such as NAMI. I should have told you that you’re not alone and that it will get better.
So, I hope you’re reading this. I’m thinking of you.
I think that you and your doctor have to weigh the benefits versus the risk. I loathe the fact that I need medications but I take them because they are vital to my survival. I have zits, my hair is falling out…just to name a few but I’d rather have that then be suicidal or manic.
I also truly believe that medications work best with therapy. You can’t make the depression go completely with medications, you have to do your part too. Learning tools to aide you in your recovery is key.
Kimberly recently posted..Kicking Leaves And Thoughts
Well said, Kim, especially the part about using therapy to aid recovery.
I hear you on this honey. The reaction is to want our friends to just stop hurting. Even if we wouldn’t say that to ourselves, even if we KNOW the choice is not that straightforward. I often doubt and second guess my decision not to take the meds, and feel like a hypocrite when I encourage someone else to. What we mean is this, “This isn’t your fault. There’s no shame in the meds. You deserve to be well.”
story recently posted..BHBC: My Life Map
You can still do this. You can email her this post.
The first time you actually hear a diagnosis, it’s like you’ve fallen into someone else’s life. I remember being stunned: I had no idea how I thought and believed, truly believed, that we’d just have therapy for my situational depression.
That’s what I thought it was: situational depression. The therapist could have been MILES kinder and not just dropped the bomb on me at the session’s end.
“WIth your generalized anxiety and chronic depression.”
What the?? ME??
I’m just having a shitty time, right?
Wrong.
You did the right thing, and you feel genuinely sorrowful. I hope she sees this post, and your kind heart.
We all wish we could have really eloquent and in-depth answers at all times. I know when I was approached after a full day’s lecture and I has been dealing with some mild vertigo symptoms all day,(I had a neck brace on most of the day) I was rather short with someone who wanted to talk with me. I did the best I could to make this encounter up, by private messaging her and letting her know I was tired and not well at the time. She never answered me back. But this was someone I didnt know, I think in your case, you can revisit the issue with your caring response and your friend would be ok with a follow-up full of your heart.
Kathy Morelli, LPC (@KathyAMorelli) recently posted..Snooki – Our Jersey Girl as a Public Health Role Model?
I think that it is so easy to beat ourselves up, when sometimes we just say what is in our heart or gut at the moment. You are totally allowed to reach out and say all of this, and explain where you are coming from,mor were when you spoke. Take the meds isn’t poor advice, when in reality your words were probably trying to encourage your friend not to be afraid to or to totally forego them, if needed. I think your realization is a critical one and you are allowed to forgive yourself and move forth with positive feelings here. ((hugs))
Andrea recently posted..A Cowboy for Christmas, by Lori Wilde ~ Book Review
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