Medication and Mood Disorders

 Patients who suffer with mental health conditions are notorious for not taking their medications as prescribed. As a person with a diagnosed mental health condition, AND as a person who has worked in pharmacy for 18 years, I can tell you this is a very nuanced subject. 

When I was 18 years old, I became unexpectedly pregnant with my daughter. At the time, I struggled with religious trauma. Looking back, I now realize I have dealt with anxiety, in one shape or another, my entire life. This anxiety, this generational trauma passed down in my genetic code, eventually came to a head. In combination of pregnancy hormones, feelings of guilt and failure as an unwed mother, and the realization that my life was heading in this one, seemingly permanent direction, part of myself shattered. I became severely depressed and suicidal. The only thing that kept me alive at the time was knowing my daughter was a part of me. 

After giving birth and moving forward in life, my mental health was a tumultuous road. I was married to a person with a narcissistic personality, someone who would not and could not see the damage he was inflicting. I was overcome with grief for disobeying God and not living up to my potential. My heart was full of shattered illusions. The world was no longer a place for growth and exploration. The world was a prison; a life sentence I deserved to carry out.

Without going to extreme details and turning this into an essay, I will say, at one point, I was taking ten different medications at a time. Looking back, as a person in their late thirties and a healthcare worker, I realize how preposterous this was. While I do believe that medication is not only necessary and life-saving, I also believe it should be approached conservatively in some situations, especially with highly sensitive people. And pumping a 19-year old full of chemicals was not helpful. I say that, but I am alive today. Perhaps I would not be had I not been on all the medications. 

I find that every 2 years or so I find myself drifting towards the extremes in my mood cycles. The older I get, the easier it is for me to recognize them. After I carefully (and with doctor's permission and oversight) tapered off the medications (almost 9 years ago), I found the person underneath. The person who was kept quiet and subdued with medication. The person who did not know how to express or understand her emotions, something that was not ever fully explained or understood or sympathized with in her childhood. My extremes became less 'extreme' when I better understood how I was feeling and why I was feeling the way that I felt. 

I have sought help several times since the 'dark days,' however, I have been fearful. I don't want to lose my progress, but I also feel like I need a little help; just enough to keep me standing instead of falling over when the waves hit. I met with my nurse practitioner today, and she prescribed a small dose of quetiapine. I am hoping this will help with my restlessness and insomnia, and I hope this is a good step forward. She was open and kind and I was thankful that she agreed to treat me instead of referring me to a psychiatrist. 

While I have much internal work to be done, I am very proud of how far I have come. I feel better equipped to handle the hard times when they arrive. This is a new year, and on the podcast I listened to today (thank you Mel Robbins!), she said 'It takes a year.' Anytime we make big changes in our lives, we must give it a full year. When I started my new job back in April, I wasn't sure I would be able to stay. I'm glad I stuck it out. I'm 9 months in and finally starting to feel grounded. Life is one big process, isn't it? One big cycle. Nothing is ever truly finished; like the laundry and dishes, life is cyclical. We take one step at a time. What a relief! Now I don't have to rush. Because, guess what? Whatever will happen will happen when it is supposed to. And that's something I can get on board with.