A year ago I experienced the most unexpected thing in my life. After six months of feeling lost, crying nonstop, doing yoga, exercising, eating healthy I determined that my attempt to get better on my own were unsuccessful. I had no choice but to accept that I needed medication in order to live a normal life.
I fought this idea with all my heart, especially because I think Americans, for the most part, tend to try to solve most problems by taking a pill, without working on the root cause of the problem.
Growing up with a psychoanalyst as a sister has shaped my many views of the world. I’m a firm believer of therapy and I go regularly, but this time none of my coping mechanisms were working for me.
I was scared, felt so powerless, and denied myself to get the required help until I hit rock bottom.
Being depressed is not a fun experience for anyone, but for an optimist and positive person like myself, the journey can be even worse as optimism can be a barrier to understanding a serious illness like depression.
Before experiencing depression, I always thought that with the exception of those who suffer from chronic depression, anyone with enough will, should be able to overcome it.
But clearly, I was wrong. It took almost six months to accept the fact that my optimism and willingness to feel better were not enough to get out of darkness where I was existing.
When I finally decided to go to a psychiatrist, I was scared and fearful. My main fear was becoming dependent on the medication, the side effects, etc. It took a lot of conversations with many of my friends who have similar experiences to agree to medical treatment.
