“Why do you take those?” my 9 year old asked, as I finished my morning glass of water with a side of antidepressants.
I am going to tell you about our conversation, but first, let me set the stage for you.
I have had a complicated relationship with antidepressants. I grew up with the idea that most medicine should be avoided as much as possible. Depression was seen as a sickness of the heart rather than the body. The need to take those tiny white pills were a sign that you weren’t doing the work needed to get your own healing. They were seen as a crutch and one that wasn’t dealing with the real problem.
I also grew up in a super granola home. Extra crunchy. Our physical healing came through the use of holistic, homeopathic and natural remedies. We did use western medicine, but as little as humanly possible. I still use holistic and homeopathic remedies, but not as devoutly as when I was a kid. I take pain relievers and other medicines as I need them (c-section mama over here), but generally as an absolute last resort. And that’s not intentionally or as any kind of personal conviction. For a long time I wouldn’t even think about it until someone would suggest it. Then I’m like, oh right, I should take something. Even then, there is still resistance inside of me. Like I should be superhuman or something and fight off the pain. Goodness gracious. It’s so silly.
After the birth of my second and third babies I was angry and numb. I am pretty certain I had postpartum depression and just didn’t understand what was happening. I was a shell of a human. I didn’t even recognize myself. I attributed it to being in a failing marriage on top of how overwhelmed I was with mothering three tiny humans. Looking back, it was so much more. As I was coming out of that season I promised myself that I would never allow myself to be numb like that again. I never ever wanted to experience that again. Oh mama, if I only knew what I would come up against just a few short years later.
Flash forward to after Benjamin was born. I can’t remember exactly when, because what is time? I was sitting on the floor of my kitchen absolutely zoned out. I had no desire to move. My mind was blank. I felt nothing. I also felt like I might implode from the weight I felt. After sitting there for what felt like hours I had a moment of clarity. I flashed back to those early parenting years and to the feelings I promised myself I would never return to. It was in that moment that I knew I needed to do something.
It has been an up and down journey since I started taking Bupropion. I have wrestled with my programming that says I shouldn’t need it. I have stopped taking it for seasons because I thought “I was better” and then quickly realized that was not the case. I have tried to heal through other modalities in an attempt to one day stop taking daily medication. And then, through years of processing and one aha conversation with a friend, I came to a powerful realization.
Now, let’s head back to the bathroom.
When I finished drinking my glass of water, I looked at my sweet son and said, “Our life with all of Benjamin’s needs is more than my nervous system and brain can handle on its own. Our bodies and minds are not made to manage that much stress all the time. So I take this medicine to help my body process everything it is going through. Does that make sense?” He casually said, “oh” and “yes” and asked me to leave the bathroom so he could use it.
I am sure this moment meant more to me than to him. It was the first time I expressed out loud my recent revelation. It felt so good to have an answer I was confident in. It is so freeing to own that I am not strong enough for this life. I cannot do it on my own. I cannot grit my way through it. I can accept help for more than just a season. My body was not made for this way of living. My body is doing it’s best. Now I get to help my body. It has protected me and helped me to survive when it felt impossible. Now I get to help my body in return, so we can sustain this life for the long run.
Antidepressants are not my crutch. They are a thank you gift to my body.
andie