by Carly Masiroff
Acceptance.
This word keeps popping up in my life like one of those moles in the whack-a-mole arcade game. But why? What does it mean?
It’s no secret my mental health has never been on the straight and narrow. I try to hide it as much as possible and pretend my two friends, Anxiety and Depression, are not sitting on my shoulders at all times asking me to come out and play. But they are there. I’ve accepted they will always be a part of my life. But that doesn’t mean I have to accept their offer to play.
For the past ten years, I have consistently been on many different kinds of medication for my anxiety and depression. Some of them have been better than others, but all have given me side effects of some sort. I hate being on these meds. I know the saying, “Mental illness is just like any other illness. If you had diabetes you would take insulin every day, wouldn’t you?” Heck, I preach the saying sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I have subconsciously accepted it for myself.
A few months ago, I started talking about the idea of tapering down my meds with my psychiatrist. She said I have been consistently doing well for a long stretch of time so if I wanted to try it, this would be a good time. I was elated, and then that night, Anxiety wanted to play.
“Wait! She said I could stop my meds? What if I relapse? How do I know if I am ready for this leap?”
This is something that I’ve wanted to do for so long. So why can’t I fully accept this? Why would I not want to get rid of the twitching, the weight gain, the memory loss, the mood swings, the lethargic feelings of doom?
Oh, hey there, Depression. You want to play too?
One of the main stigmas in mental health is that people with a mental illness are broken or need to be fixed in some way. I think the fear of going off the meds is feeling like I am giving into that notion. That maybe the meds did fix me. Were they right all along?
Anxiety and Depression are just like those bad people in our lives. You know the ones. Just the thought of them throws a wrench in your stomach. Making you feel like they can control aspects of your life. I can’t take a pill every time I feel this way around others, I have to learn how to cope. Maybe my pills have gotten me to a place now where I can cope, to a place where I have learned the techniques and the chemical balance is more maintained.
I think it is time for me to accept that I have gotten stronger, that I’m not as likely to cave in to the peer pressure of my so-called friends and go out to play with them. I may or may not need to be on medication for the rest of my life, but it may be time for a break now.
And I am ready to accept it.