Back in middle school, around eighth grade, I started homeopathic treatments for my mental illnesses. My parents didn’t want me to try out prescription medications yet, they feared for the side effects, and my mother, being a nurse, wanted to exhaust all other options before trying something more serious. They worked for a while, mixed with a psychiatrist and a therapist I was able to stop taking everything a year or two later.
At the beginning of this year, I was overwhelmed and lacked the resources I needed to succeed so I scheduled an appointment with my therapist for the first time in months, little did I know that would bring me where I never thought I would go.
About two weeks ago I started taking Prozac on top of homeopathic remedies and supplements. My mind had been heavier than I could carry for a while and my parents and I decided it was time to try it out. I think it’s working, my homeopathic treatments felt like a plastic spoon against a rock, but with everything combined, I feel like I at least have a knife in my hands to fight the stone.
Throughout this newer journey, I have been on with my mental health, I have realized a few things.
Help is a word I cannot take but will gladly give. I’ve always felt like I needed to be the one to fix all of my problems, if I keep everything close to my chest then nothing can go wrong. Wrong. Understanding the importance of asking for help has been one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned this year. My pride isn’t worth struggling forever, and my pride shouldn’t even be hurt by a moment of vulnerability.
Isolation breeds insanity. I’ve always viewed myself as an introvert and someone who values alone time, which I still do, but I think I’m ready to abandon the idea that I’m okay with being alone forever. Recently, I have been experiencing derealization and depersonalization, which in short means that I am disconnected from not only reality but myself. I have come to discover that while I may dislike social interaction, it is a vital part of maintaining my grasp on the world and who I am.
Finally, time is nothing and everything. I’ve always wished for more time, more time to do the things I want to do. I thought I needed extra hours in the day to do the things I loved, but the truth is I just needed to make the time myself. While yes obligations crowd my schedule, I have found beauty in the little pockets of blank space I find that I can utilize as a time of creativity and growth. While yes time is everything, it is nothing unless you make the most of it. With this idea, I have also come to terms with the fact that breaks and naps and days of laying in bed are necessary to be able to make the most of my time.
All of these things have been crutches I’ve carried for years. “Oh I have a mental illness, no one can understand me or help me,” “I function better alone, I can be myself in isolation,” “I don’t have any time to do anything, I’m overwhelmed.” I have always found ways to undermine myself and drag myself down to a level I think I belong at. Now as I have come to terms with the fact that I need medication and I am weak sometimes, I can see my strengths so much better. Accepting my faults and my weaker points, I am able to be gracious for my strengths and my abilities. I wish I was able to tell my eighth-grade self that when I first started homeopathic treatments. I used to be so scared and embarrassed that I needed all of this extra help that I hid it away and pretended I was perfectly capable of everything, I wasn’t.