That Crazy Chick with Happy Pills

It was late, likely around 1 or 2 a.m. and I was in my college dorm room, silently sobbing and hyperventilating in the throws of an overwhelmingly intense panic attack. I sobbed, prayed, screamed into my pillow, and gasped for air as minutes passed like hours and I wondered if this would be my reality for the rest of my life, and if it would be, how long would I be able to live like that?

I remember one thought with immense clarity, because it was one I had on almost a daily basis from the time I was put on antidepressants at 18, to when I was nearly 23 and finally at peace with having medication play a key role in my life.

"I don't want to have to take pills for the rest of my life in order to be happy". I was angry that my body didn't function the way others' did. I felt like all the joy in my life was fabricated by tiny pills I took daily, and I felt like a slave to a medical routine that I felt no one else needed to smile.

I was ashamed and embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to know I had depression, or that I was on pills. I didn't want my friends to think I was crazy. I didn't want to be labeled as the weird girl, or the moody girl. I had nightmares about being seen as the emo, clad in black character from every movie about high school hierarchy. I was worried others would define me by my depression, because I was defining myself by it.

Thankfully that all changed. Thankfully I found a phenomenal group of friends who saw me for me and didn't care that depression was part of my life. More importantly, they became my support system for when I couldn't battle it all alone.

I don't hide my mental illness anymore. I'm not afraid of it defining me and I'm not afraid of people judging me. I know anyone who would only see me as "depression girl" is someone I can help educate, and I know the people I love don't see me that way at all.

The little green and white pill I take each night is no different that excedrin for a migraine patient, insulin for a diabetic, or the zyrtec I take when spring blooms and I become allergic to outside. My body needs a little help to function at its best, and honestly I am so thrilled that a single pill can do that for me.

I'm so lucky that my mental illness can be managed so easily. I'm so thankful that it only took me two tries to find the right antidepressant for me, and I am incredibly blessed that in the nine years since my diagnosis I have only had to change medications once.

Most of all, I am not ashamed. I have clinical depression. I take Cymbalta each night to combat it, and because of that I am able to live my best life.

Just A Crazy Girl With Her Happy Pills!

Fading Away

The world is in shambles, and even before everyone fell into chaos I existed there.

Every time I clawed my way to a new summit it felt as if the wind blew with the sole purpose of pushing me back. Some days I fought against it. Others I clung to the faintest existence of hope until my finger bled and I collapsed into a relapse.

Some days I was the sun in my own world, propelling everyone forward, my heart so full of hope I served to shine onto every struggling person and hopeless heart.

Others I awoke in such a deep crevice of pain that I could barely beg myself to believe that light existed somewhere outside my own soul shattering pain.

There is no cure for this rollercoaster of life. There's no way to snap out of depression so deep it aches in your bones, and even on the best of days there isn't enough love or time to heal everyone my heart holds dear.

There is, however, music. Through every peak and crevice and day of hopeful or hopeless dreams there has always been one way to temporarily cast out every terminal ache and tears of abandoning hope. Forever there has been a song, a piece of someone's soul that they sent out into the universe to fill the gaps in every heart that's scars were still bleeding and healing.

No medication, no therapy, no night of sobbing or screaming can soothe my soul and purge my denoms the way that disappearing into music has.

Sometimes I just need to put in headphones, turn my music up loud enough to drown my own thoughts out, close my eyes, and let everything fade away into nothingness. The music is in my veins, cleansing my hopelessness. The bass is my heartbeat, never fading, never giving out, beating strongly even when minutes earlier I thought it might stop beating forever. Lyrics send a chill down my spine and through my fingers as it purifies my soul and pushes every reality away. A voice whispers prayers into my mind as I disappear into a galaxy free of pain and chaos and hate and where life only exists three minutes at a time before it fades into another melody.