I’m a dedicated English teacher and a mom, and yes, I take antidepressants—and you won’t change my mind about that.
I can still vividly recall the awkwardness of sixth grade, trying to project confidence. On my birthday, I was thrilled to be part of the school news team, excited to read the names of my classmates. Yet, when the list was announced, mine was absent. Overwhelmed by insecurity, I stayed silent and continued reading, pretending nothing was wrong. That day marked the start of feeling invisible, as anxiety and depression began to loom over me.
While many describe their childhoods as filled with wonder, birthday parties, and friends, my experiences were often overshadowed by a cloud of fear. I worried about my parents’ mortality, feared losing friends, and felt anxious around my classmates. Despite having joyful moments, my mind was trained to latch onto negativity, allowing anxiety and depression to dominate my memories.
During elementary school, I struggled to believe in myself. Receiving an award in fifth grade left me so flustered that I hardly registered my name being called. I participated in the talent show, yet I only compared myself unfavorably to others. Though I was athletic and strong, my tall stature only fueled my insecurities.
When a zoning change separated me from some of my best friends in sixth grade, my anxiety intensified. I attempted to fit in by excelling academically and remaining active, but typical middle school awkwardness only deepened my self-doubt. Eventually, this led me to stop attending school altogether. Stomachaches and feelings of sickness convinced my mom to let me stay home. I often broke down in tears while trying to enter the school parking lot, paralyzed by fear.
Fortunately, transferring schools helped, but my mental health faced further challenges in adulthood. My first teaching job was riddled with anxiety. The pressures of deadlines, challenging student behavior, and an overwhelming workload left me perpetually stressed. I would carry work home nightly and feel physically sick at the thought of a parent’s email on a Friday. A critical remark from a student could haunt me for days. The stress of teaching can be all-consuming, especially for someone like me who is genetically predisposed to anxiety. I later realized that my stomach issues were linked to anxiety-induced IBS.
After giving birth to my first child, I experienced postpartum anxiety and depression, constantly fearing for my baby’s safety and crying frequently. I found myself inexplicably angry, often blaming my husband for everything that went wrong. I told myself these feelings were just due to exhaustion and stress.
Almost four years later, after a miscarriage, I slipped into a dark depression that lasted for months. The fear of losing my daughter during my next pregnancy consumed me with anxiety. Daily negative thoughts about potential loss plagued my mind.
Then came the multiple mass shootings in California. I obsessively read about them, allowing the horrific news to invade my thoughts and spiral me into another depressive episode. I was exhausted, trapped in a cycle of fear and anxiety, unable to fully engage with the present.
Anxiety and depression manifest in various ways. For me, anger was a significant symptom. I initially thought I had a bad temper, but looking back, I realize it was a direct result of my mental health struggles. Anxiety made me tense and irritable, while depression fostered feelings of worthlessness and loneliness, which only exacerbated my anger. The people closest to me bore the brunt of it.
Eventually, I had a candid conversation with my husband about my feelings. As he listened, he expressed his bewilderment at how I coped with my thoughts and suggested that it might be time for me to seek professional help. I had brushed off this suggestion in the past, but something shifted this time.
After visiting my doctor, I started taking prescription antidepressants shortly after the birth of my daughter, at the age of 30. This decision was life-changing.
Now, I no longer suffer from daily stomachaches, unnecessary rage, or severe heart palpitations. I no longer feel sick with nerves at the thought of a critical email. Singing no longer sends me into a panic, and I’ve stopped ruminating on negative thoughts. I’ve learned to let go of the fear of death and no longer experience crippling depression every few weeks. I have freed myself from a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts and the guilt of being a mom.
Many people find solace in self-help books or therapy, but that doesn’t work for everyone. My brain has its complexities—genetics play a role, with a family history of bipolar disorder, ADD, OCD, and pervasive anxiety and depression.
I see young people, even as young as 16, grappling with despair. They need help. I recently spent an hour listening to a student filled with hopelessness, sharing my own sixth-grade experience of feeling invisible and how seeking help changed my life. I hope to inspire others to seek help, just as I did at 30.
This help can take many forms, including medication, which should not be stigmatized. If I could have rewired my brain to avoid constant fear, it would have significantly altered my teenage and young adult years.
I’ve heard people worry that medication might make them feel numb or devoid of emotion. While some medications may have unpleasant side effects, it’s about finding the right fit for your body. The first antidepressant I tried was effective but caused excessive sweating. The second made me more anxious and jittery. The third, however, has been a happy medium. I still experience some manageable side effects, but they pale in comparison to the overwhelming symptoms of depression.
I share my story in hopes that someone else might find the encouragement to seek help. Most people who knew me during my struggles would never have guessed the extent of my internal battles. High-functioning anxiety can be deceptive, convincing its bearer that they are unworthy of happiness or that feeling miserable is just a part of life. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We need to talk more about the joy that help can bring, whether through therapy or medication.
I write for my younger self, who battled nervousness; for my middle school self, consumed by panic; for my high school self, who remained passive; and for my college self, who neglected the need for help. I write for the 30-year-old mom who finally embraced the desire for change. I hope that others who face similar struggles can find their inner peace.
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Summary:
Antidepressants significantly improved my life after years of struggling with anxiety and depression. From childhood insecurities to adult challenges as a teacher and mother, I found relief and hope through medication. My journey underscores the importance of seeking help and breaking the stigma around mental health support.
Keyphrase: Antidepressants and Mental Health
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