Pill Popping on a handstand…

“Maybe you need some medicine”

That's what my therapist told me in our video session. And even though I KNEW already that I did, my soul felt crushed.

I was strong. I didn't need help from anyone. So the fact that now my therapist was telling me that I needed help from a pill was more than my soul could take. And don't get me wrong. I'm not against pills. I've been trying to get a prescription for Adderall for years. But that's when I thought I didn't need it. LOL.

But here I was. In 2022. Struggling to focus at work. Coming off of a diagnosed depressive episode in 2021, but my lack of focus went from bad to unavoidable.

I knew I needed these pills a long time ago. I knew New Years Day of 2022.

I have never been that sad like I was that year. I remember literally secluding myself in my apartment. And every time I thought I had no more tears somehow they managed to find their way to my mind. To my eyes. I was so hurt. My mind wandered places I never want to go again. I remember being on the floor in my living room. A bottle of tequila by my side. Laid out as if I had a chalk outline around me and thinking that if I was to commit suicide, this would be the moment. I totally understood on that floor how people got to that point. Even though I didn't act on it, nor even planned it out, just the thought that it could get so bad, that I even got that far in the thought process was more than I needed to get out of my dark hole.

I crawled myself out of that space and brought myself back to a place of hope and even found a little happiness in the dating. Transparently when that didn't work out, it hit hard. I thought that relationship was the rainbow after the storm and when it ended on a bad note, it was a little too much to handle while still fragile. I literally felt like I was fighting for joy. Or a sliver of happiness every single day. I had a piece of paper by my bed that I looked at every morning to remind me that I was a good person because even that most basic of statements needed reiterated and instilled in my thought process, every single day. And even though it got better, it still didn't get good.

My friends noticed it. My family asked questions, and as much as I tried to avoid them, it was clear I wasn't myself completely. I had therapy every other week and we worked together as best we could. And even though my therapist was great, it became apparent she wasn't a fit for me. The nail in the coffin was with the cold way she told me that I needed to get on medicine. 

I knew that medicine wasn't bad, but she made it seem like “Well, since you can't do it yourself. Just get on this” It felt like a punishment. It felt like I was crazy. Maybe I WAS crazy. I was depressed about people leaving my life without real reason, despite how hard I fought for them to stay. Here I am letting other people affect my life to the point where I woke up one day and bought a dog randomly after I got my lashes done. I love Ginger, so I am thankful for that lapse in reasoning because she was the best impulse buy ever, but that didn't excuse where I was at mentally. And it wasn’t there fault. I’d rather people leave than keep me in their life if they don’t feel I am a healthy and valuable addition, but where I was, and the abandonment issues I had, people making the decision to continue their life without me felt like a direct attack on my person.

My depression lifted but the brain fog didn't. Maybe it was also after affects of COVID, maybe it was the fact I knew I was ready for a career shift, but my mind wasn’t working. I used to be able to read a book in a day, and now i couldnt even fnish a chapter. I would avoid answering the simpliest of emails. Work that used to excite me left my chest feeling heavy. I had money to pay my bills, but simply would not. I couldnt even pray properly because I’d forget what I was asking God for (and most likely it was focus). All these reasons made me doubt myself. I was skeptical of my intuition. I overthought everything, and slowly, i felt the anxiety build more. Panic attack levels (if youre new here I used to get anxiety/panic attacks daily). I was so scared to tell anyone, because then it made it real. It made everything I did because I was “moody”, “depressed”, and “not trying”. I felt like everyone would questions my actions because of this mental state, and I was already doing that enough myself.  In 2020, I had shared my anxiety with people reluctantly, against the better judgment of my vulnerable adverse nature, because someone other than my therapist had to know about my panic attacks. I have asthma. They sent me to the hospital before and I needed to be responsible. When I shared, they were supportive… until it showed up in a way they didn't understand. Then anxiety turned into an excuse. It was optional. I decided I couldnt control my anxiety, but I could control who and how I shared. So this new set of issues, I kept as secret as possible. I didnt wanna go through that again. So I struggled, every day. My only confidant, my therapist, started to feel like she was annoyed at me. Every session, I’d cry something was wrong and I don't know what. I didn't know how to change it. And every time, she would offer obvious solutions, and tell me to try it, like I haven't tried them a thousand times over. I had tried b12, focus serums, focus vitamins, meditation, exercise, prayer, crystals, cleanses… every. bloodclot. thing. Until one day, sobbing into my hands on our session she exasperatedly said 

“Maybe you need some medicine”

No care in her voice. No empathy. She wasn't even looking at her camera. She was looking down at some notes, her head in her hand, almost like she was over our conversations. I looked up from my crying, looking for a gleam of hope in her eyes. There was nothing. No information on resources, no pros and cons, no guidance. And I’ve been told I can be a wee bit dramatic, so maybe this hit harder than it should. Maybe because of our age/background/perspective differences, it wasn’t a big deal to her, but to me, the glass floor I had been trying to get my bearings on just shattered from underneath me. I cried the rest of the session.

We continued on for a bit and then, shortly after getting laid off from Twitter, and starting my own company, I realized that my livelihood depended on me being focused. And I realized I had to make some changes.

First, was my therapist. She was young, and I don't think she understood some age nuisances. She is amazing, and got me through alot, but the journey I needed to take, she unfortunately wasn't going to be the best support system for me. I started seeing a wonderful therapist who was a little older and showed up like a loving, but stern aunt. Who has helped me be less apologetic about who I am and what I need. I felt a weight lifted off after just one session.

This allowed me to talk to a good friend about my lack of focus, and ask how she manages so many things successfully. And she said “medicine”. It was so simple, so clear. She wasn't ashamed at all and she gave me the courage to ask for resources, and talk through her experience. I am forever thankful for her openness and advice.

By my third therapy session, I joked about how I need to fire myself cause I don't know how to focus, and she looked at me and said, have you tried some medicine? I looked at her and told her i reluctantly had be researching, and she admitted being on it on it herself and said “There is no shame in help. From people, or from prescriptions, as long as you are not abusing either.”

I had my consultation for medicine the next day. I was diagnosed with anxiety induced ADHD. My anxiety brought on my ADHD, and my ADHD brought on more anxiety, and created a cycle I couldn't pull myself out of. Until now.

I saw improvement within 3 weeks. I felt calmer, more focused, and able to focus on my business. The anxiety I felt around my lack of focus After a few months, I realized that I was in a place that I could function without the pills, and weaned myself off after the advice of my therapist and prescriber. 

I am so thankful, for the moments of clarity that came with that medicine. But, I am more grateful for the people who supported me. Who didn't make me feel like something was wrong with me. Who empowered me to realize getting help wasn't a sign of weakness, or a disability. For my friends who knew and didn't make a big deal. and for the resources available online that made treatment possible. 

It took me a really long time to write this post. This has been in drafts since May 1st 2023. (for mental health awareness month) Even though I am clear it nothing to be ashamed of, releasing this into the world, how much low I got, how I moved, how I isolated myself, is still really hard to see on a screen, never mind have others read about it. But my friend’s openness was the reason I was able to get help, and I hope this post serves to help someone else.

I’m grateful in all the things I couldn’t focus on, I prioritized focusing on a solution versus the problem.

Also quick note: Life is a jumble of things big and small always concurrently happening. Focusing on everything is a myth. If you can give clear undivided attention to everything in your life without being anxious and no help of medicine, please thank the higher powers for that unicorn DNA. LOL.