Content warning: this post discusses depression, anxiety, intrusive thoughts, and suicidal ideation.

‘What is the bravest thing you’ve ever said?’ asked the boy.
‘Help,’ said the horse.
‘Asking for help isn’t giving up,’ said the horse. ‘It’s refusing to give up.’

Charlie Mackesy, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse

In July 2022, after traumatically leaving my partner-track consulting job of over 11 years and dealing with ongoing panic attacks and anxiety, I called my doctor and asked for help. I had been in weekly therapy since February, and before that was working with a coach who helped me when I felt myself turning towards substance abuse as a way of dealing with my depression and chronic pain the previous year. I hadn’t realized how stressed I was until I left my job – and I hadn’t realized that my anxiety and depression weren’t just a result of being stressed and overworked at my job until those things weren’t an issue anymore.

The Hardest Part was Asking for Help

Starting (and continuing with) therapy, and starting medication were the bravest things I’ve ever done. While I have always been a big supporter of access to mental health care and medication for those who need it, I somehow never managed to show myself that compassion. I pushed aside my depression and anxiety, and told myself it wasn’t that bad. I believed it was because of external things, and I didn’t think I had enough reasons to pursue help for my mental state. I believed that needing medication was a sign that I was weak and broken.

But all of a sudden I had 6 weeks off between jobs, very few responsibilities, and the ability to recover and rest. And still, my anxiety persisted. I still spent most days just getting by and surviving – not living. I had lots of support from my family, friends and therapist, but it wasn’t enough.

What it Was Like Starting Medication

When I started my medication (an SSRI), within a few weeks I noticed that my intrusive thoughts – vivid, horrifying images which would invade my mind at the slightest trigger – had lessened. I still got them occasionally, but could read news stories without terrifyingly reliving everything I read. My anxiety also improved – I was better able to handle stressful situations, and was sleeping better than I had at any other point in my life.

But my depression persisted, and I started having occasional periods of suicidal ideation. I was never in danger of acting on it; I never wanted to die, but I daydreamed about being admitted to a mental health facility or being put into a coma so I wouldn’t have to feel things anymore. Even though I wouldn’t have acted on it, the thought of suicide scared me enough to go see my doctor again. I was also still dealing with what I call background anxiety: like background noise, it’s not something you really notice until you’re quiet and you realize it’s still really noisy around you. While the acute anxiety was better, I still had this ongoing sense of stress and anxiety which permeated my days.

“Antipsychotic” is a Scary Word

Another trip to the doctor, and I came away with another prescription, this time an antipsychotic which can help improve the effectiveness of my SSRIs. I don’t need it for its antipsychotic properties, but I find it interesting how my internal reaction to the label “psychotic” is so strongly negative. I know I have mental health issues, and I guess that’s just a sensitive place for me.

I’m happy (literally) to say that adding the second medication has vastly improved my mental state, and feelings of depression and anxiety are no longer having a negative impact on my life. I’ve also noticed a big difference when I don’t get enough sleep – previously, lack of sleep would send me into a depressive state, but now I am just tired.

If You Think You Need Help, You Do

I wish I hadn’t waited so long to give medication a try, but I also recognize that I had to go through all those experiences to get to where I am at today. It’s been really validating to just be believed when I say I am struggling – I think many of us feel like we don’t deserve help, and I’m here to say YOU DO. You do not have to meet some minimum level of pain in order to deserve help. Access to mental health care is still a major issue, and I was very lucky to have the support I did to get me to where I am now – it took 35 years for this to happen, but now I have a great team around me, which includes my family doctor, my therapist and an amazing coach.

I know not everyone can talk about this. Sharing my story is hard and took a lot of bravery. Talking about mental health and medication is still taboo, and can have repercussions on relationships and jobs. I feel really lucky to be in a place where I can share things like this without worrying about my job or relationships being affected.

Hugs!
Kim