This Little White Pill

There is this little white pill. It may not look like much, but to me, it means a world of difference. We can go ahead and be honest here, mental health is a struggle for me. Surprise, surprise. Genetically I’m doomed when it comes to anxiety and depression. My mother struggles with anxiety, depression, and a bit of narcissism. My father is diagnosed bi-polar. So it was really only a matter of time for me to fall down that deep, dark rabbit hole of anxiety and depression. And although I have reiterated time and time again that I will be the one to break this generational cycle, it’s not as easy as it sounds. I’ve required a little bit of help.

There are plenty of things to worry about in my everyday life. Health, work, friends, politics, the economy… I am a worrier by nature, so it’s easy to find myself in a state of heightened anxiety much of the time. Add motherhood to the mix, and it’s hard not to fly right off of the anxiety charts.

I struggled with anxiety in my life long before I became a mom. However, since entering motherhood, I have discovered a whole new slew of topics that increase my anxiety and get my mind spinning. It’s only by countering these motherhood anxiety triggers with truth that I am able to keep things in perspective and thrive in my journey as a mom. And this little white pill helps, tremendously.

But it wasn’t always that easy, that simple. This little white pill, well, it’s not my first. It’s actually my third try at medication. My first attempt left me in a bound of anger, anxiety, depression, and even the hard, dark stuff. Yes, I am talking about harmful thoughts. As these words spill from my mind onto this page, my heart is racing. Hot, heavy tears ready to fall from my eyes. I never publicly talked about this because of the fear of the backlash I would receive from it. It’s literally a hard pill to swallow. But here I am. I’m trying not to be afraid anymore. I knew something was wrong and I am fighting hard to make it right.

My second attempt was with a much stronger medication. And one that I believed was helping me for so long. But then one day I woke up and never felt the same again. I could feel my body and mind fighting it, and I was losing. Every little thing would set me off, trigger me into this cringing, anxious being. I started to really hate her. She wasn’t me. Yet here she was, taking control of my life again.

But a few weeks ago, I decided enough was enough. Of course, my anxiety fought me on making a doctors appointment to change my medication. But I couldn’t let it win, not again. Not only was I struggling, but my family was struggling. My daughter was watching her mother detach and become this human being that she didn’t recognize. My husband watched from the side, not knowing what to do or how to help. He did what he could by caring for Alice when I couldn’t muster up the strength and will power to do so. That caused me so much emotional damage as I would sit and watch him parent her alone, knowing I should be doing something. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it. Not if I didn’t want to cause anymore damage than I already felt like I had. And it’s not that I didn’t want to, I just mentally couldn’t get myself to do it. And that was incredibly hard.

But I did what I knew I could do, and that was call my doctor and explain to him what I was feeling and put trust in him to help me. So yes, this little white pill may just seem like, well, a little white pill. But to me, it’s made my life extraordinary. The weight is off of my chest and it feels so good to breathe again. My husband has indicated several times that he has his wife back and that brings a warm smile to my face. My daughter has even shown me that it is helping her navigate this unknown territory as well. She has been so sweet, kind, loving and a little sassy. But she was patient with me while I tried to find my way back. It took me a while but I’m here. And I’m grateful for this little white pill.

And there’s no shame in hiding it anymore.