Bitter Pill

I gained a new respect for my clients who call in to request a session, and then come in to my office, week after week

One of the hardest decisions of my life was choosing to go on antidepressants. I had no “reason” really. I didn’t match that typical picture of an individual suffering from depression: blankets drawn over her head unable to function. I’d worked in the mental-health field for years and felt pretty secure in my knowledge of which patients required medications or at least a psychiatric referral to rule out the necessity of meds.

So when a supervisor encouraged me to see a psychiatrist after a traumatic event in my life I knew the doctor would dismiss any organic concern. Sure I was experiencing more lows than normal and even had some suicidal ideation — but I diagnosed myself with dysthymia a low-grade depression that generally doesn’t require meds. I chalked it up to post-traumatic stress disorder and I was confident I’d overcome this hurdle.

Because if there was one thing I could say with confidence it was that I definitely did not need medication.

It’s ironic how even among those working in mental health there’s still something of a stigma toward psychotherapy and medication. Even after practicing as a social worker treating others I refused to engage in treatment. Me? Need a therapist? Pfft. I’m managing just fine thank you very much. I am in touch with my emotions understand the narrative of my life know why I do what I do over-analyze to an extreme.