by Lisa Latronica
If you’re like most people, you have a picture in your head of what treatment for mental illness looks like. Maybe that image is a counter full of pills. Maybe it’s lying on a couch talking to a doctor with a clipboard. Maybe you think of stark white walls and people in hospital beds. And successful treatment means you don’t need medication or a therapist any longer.
There’s a whole list of stereotypes when we think of mental health treatments, and just because we’re in higher education doesn’t mean that we don’t have assumptions, too. I’ve been in treatment for anxiety and depression for four years and for an eating disorder for almost a year, and even I fall victim to jumping to conclusions about my own treatment. Like a lot of people, I thought that once I started medication and talked to a therapist a few times, I would be magically better and back to “normal.”
In reality, though, that is not how it works.
Over the last four years, my treatment plan has changed so many times I’ve lost count. And it’s not just about medication – it’s a combination of therapy, medication, lifestyle changes and talking about my conditions. It varies day-by-day depending on how I feel and what events I am anticipating happening. I hope that by sharing my journey to find effective treatment and how complicated it can be at times, we can all start to better understand what others in the field and our students might be going through and how we can support them.
Four years ago, I started taking a medication called Lexapro and was given Klonopin “in case of emergency” for panic attacks. I started at the lowest dose and was told that I would need to continue seeing a therapist while on the medication. I was warned that the adjustment period would likely come with a lot of side effects that would eventually fade. I didn’t really believe that they would be that bad and assumed within a week I would be feeling relief. Around 3 a.m., about twelve hours after taking my first dose, I was wide-awake on my bathroom floor with the worst nausea I have ever experienced. And that would last for two weeks, along with no appetite, headaches, exhaustion and mood swings.
Six weeks went by, and I didn’t feel any different. The side effects were gone, but I still worried myself into panic attacks that required the use of Klonopin to calm down. At my follow up appointment with my psychiatrist, he didn’t seem surprised and opted to increase my dosage of Lexapro. I was initially angry. I didn’t want to be on medication in the first place, let alone have my dose increased. What I didn’t realize is that my dose would change every few months from that point on. It all depended on how my mental illness was manifesting at that particular point.
Over the last few years, my dose of Lexapro has gone up to the maximum dose and back down several times. At various points my doctors have added Effexor, Xanax and Prozac to the mix, and I’m never without that “in case of emergency” bottle of Klonopin in my bathroom drawer for a panic attack. I became accustomed to picking up various prescriptions and being aware of changes in treatments. Over the course of three years, I made a different kind of assumption: that because I was in treatment that was, at the time, managing my conditions, I would not fall back into a bad space again.
Again, that’s not how this works.
About a year ago, I slowly began to fall into one of the worst depressive episodes I have ever had. It wasn’t something I fully realized until I hit rock bottom. I made the assumption that it was temporary – I was in treatment, there was no way I was back to being sick. I was in denial. But everyone around me saw that something wasn’t right. It took me about two months longer to see what they saw.
When I finally admitted I was in trouble and talked to my doctors about it truthfully, my treatment plan had to change dramatically. I began taking three different medications daily instead of my usual one. My therapist began seeing me one to two times per week instead of once per month. I had to see my primary care physician every other week not only for medication management, but because restrictive eating and self-harm had left me physically exhausted, and my body needed help healing. I started a nutrition plan that has evolved over the last year and become almost second nature to me.
That aggressive course of treatment lasted for a few months and has been reduced back down to what I call my “normal” treatment plan: one daily medication, seeing a therapist every week to every two weeks and seeing my primary care doctor every few months. This entire experience changed the way I perceive my own treatment, along with mental health treatment in general.
Treatment isn’t a “fix all.” It’s not just about fixing the symptoms – it’s about learning to be kind to yourself and listen to your needs. Sometimes you need a little help meeting those needs mentally, physically or emotionally, which is where medication, doctors and a support system are important. Treatment isn’t a plan written out by a doctor and handed to you to follow by the letter. It’s a collaboration on how to live the best life you can.
My therapists, psychiatrists and primary care physicians are all part of a team that keeps me healthy. The people I surround myself with are part of that team whether they know it or not, as well. They make my life richer and give me tough love when I need it. But the captain of this team is me. I call the shots on my own life and treatment. If I want to find a way to get off a medication, I talk to my doctors about how to do that. If I need a little extra support from my friends, I ask for it. My team is there to help and advise me, but ultimately I have to decide how to change my life to make the treatment work.
So now when people ask me how I treat my anxiety, depression and eating disorder, I have to explain that it’s all in how I live day to day. I run as often as possible because it controls my anxiety and makes me feel better about my health. I make healthy food choices because my body needs the nutrition to fuel my busy life. And sometimes those healthy food choices include ice cream because it makes me happy, and that’s important, too. I stick to a schedule every morning of getting up between 6 and 6:30 to walk my dog and play outside because it motivates me for the day, and really, it’s hard to be sad when you play with a puppy. I make decisions based on what is going to make me the happiest and healthiest because ultimately, I know I deserve it. For me, this is successful treatment. I am making decisions that are good for me.
Treatment is hard. It’s taken me four years to get this far, and it’s not finished yet. Everyone has a different journey, but the common thing is that most people are trying their best. What works for one person might not be what works for another, and it’s up to each individual to be the captain of their team and try until they find something that works. It’s exhausting, and sometimes someone else needs to take over for a bit, and that’s ok.
So the next time a colleague, friend or student mentions they’re in treatment, tell them they’re doing a great job. A lot of the time it doesn’t feel like you are, but as long as you’re trying, you’re making progress. The reality is we’re all in treatment for different things in our life – we’re trying to be the happiest, healthiest and best person we can be. And as long as we keep trying, we’re succeeding.
Lisa Latronica is a student affairs professional with experience in residence life, student activities and advising, with passions for leadership development and campus advocacy. She graduate with her bachelor’s in art history and studio art from Loyola University Chicago in 2012 and her master’s in higher education administration from North Carolina State University. Her professional interests include mental health education, alcohol and drug education, living learning communities and service learning and community engagement. In her free time, Lisa is a freelance photographer, baking enthusiast, casual hiker and volunteers with animal shelters and children.