Drugs!

There is a big ol' stigma to taking psychoactive drugs in our culture. Any drugs, really, but psych meds especially. We should be able to teach our minds to not worry or be depressed. But over the years I've become less and less forbearing of pain.

Once when I was in my 20s, I threw my back out while bending over to tie my shoelaces. I spent the next five or so days in agony, but I still went to work. I could barely move, but I rode the subway and sat at my desk all day. If you've ever done that, you know that prone is really the only bearable position, followed by standing. Sitting down is excruciating. I would take breaks every so often and go lie on my back in the staff lounge. If that were to happen now, I'd be on my back taking muscle relaxers and whimpering, not hauling my ass to work every day.

It was the same with anxiety for many years. I bulled through it, pretending it wasn't happening, and being angry at myself that I couldn't just turn my brain off. It was only in the past couple years that I decided that psych meds were a thing I could avail myself of.

This is not an uncommon story. Plenty of people don't realize that drugs can help them, or they think they don't deserve help, or their problems are bad enough to require pharmaceutical intervention. It's probably not true. If drugs can improve your life, why not try them? (Hah, if my middle school self could catch me writing that, she would probably kick me in the shins.)

I do still struggle with the idea that the drugs might be masking legitimate problems. However, this seems less and less likely, as I have a normal amount of concern about issues that need addressing. Just yesterday, I decided that my partner and I needed to have a conversation about the way we plan to spend time together, because it wasn't working for me. I was a little nervous before this conversation, but the process was smooth and I didn't freak out, which would have been unnecessary and probably inevitable before my latest round of meds.