I wish I'd known all of this before I embarked on my journey as a medicated young adult, but I didn't. I don't even remember the name of my first psychiatrist, but I'll never forget the sound of the white-noise machine outside her office, and the way she handed me prescription sheets as if they were sheets of toilet paper.
I've become a skeptic. I've developed a general distrust in humans. I don't promise anyone anything. I can wish and dream all I want about a life where I wasn't born this way, or where doctors didn't see prescriptions as a first resort.
Or I can build a bridge and get over it, because I can't turn back time. And you know what? I might not have been able to graduate high school, let alone college, or get through my first jobs if I hadn't been on medications. Hell, I might've killed myself! For some people, therapy and breathing techniques aren't enough to keep anxiety or depression at bay. Some people need medications to alter brain chemicals and neurotransmitters. These people are more common than you think.
This is my life. I function properly. I don't hate myself like I used to. I've become empathetic and understanding and able to help others. I can now joke about things that probably never happened to "normal people," like the time I almost puked on a guy I was hooking up with a couple days after I first started taking Prozac, or when I pooped my pants in a college class. It's been a weird journey, but it's mine. And yours is yours.
If you or someone you know needs help, reach out for the appropriate contact.
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