You’ve heard the quote, “Medical professionals make the worst patients.” Well, not me, I thought. Because of this stereotype, I strive to be an A+ patient. I don’t even lead with, “I know. I’m a nurse practitioner.” when meeting a new provider! See? I’m an A+ patient. I was also a total hypocrite. Day in and day out, I recommend, educate, and prescribe psychiatric medications for my patients. I assuage parental concerns and guilt with initiating medicines for their children and stress the importance of addressing mental health through the use of medicines. After all, these medications are here for a reason. Why suffer when there are options to feel better? I just recently had to pose these questions to myself and make the decision to start retaking medication. And boy was that a sobering experience.
I’m not new to this, but I haven’t been true to this either as of late. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression in my early 20s and have taken medication off and on since those diagnoses. While some have to take medication every day, irrespective of what’s going on in their lives, I’m more of an episodic medication patient. Meaning I generally can manage my diagnoses without medication unless I’m experiencing big life changes or transitions. Pursuit of my degrees, getting married, and deaths in the family are primary examples of this for me. However, when I became pregnant with Samuel, I found that I was doing well without medication. I was having a great pregnancy without any significant symptoms. I was doing great even on the precipice of this major life change. I suspect that my pregnancy lulled me into a false sense of security and made it just that much more difficult to realize I needed help in my postpartum era.
If I’m being honest, I was struggling with my mood and anxiety not long after I gave birth. But I was able to “explain it away” — it’s common to feel dips in your mood with the hormonal changes. I was also breastfeeding, and that alone is hard. I had unexpectedly lost my father only a few months prior to getting pregnant. So, I recognized I was still dealing with grief, but I hadn’t been breastfeeding for months at this point, and my mood was still trash. I was irritable, I was full of anxiety, and I was having intrusive thoughts about EVERYTHING. I was excited to go to bed early every night but still slept poorly. Truthfully, I was going to bed early as an avoidance tactic. I didn’t feel like interacting once Samuel was down for the night. Waking up felt like a chore. Everything was really freaking hard for no real reason. I was just going through the motions, if I’m being completely honest. On the outside, I was functioning. I was still showing up to work, and I was still doing all the things. But I was struggling. It was after I essentially had a complete meltdown one weekend that I realized I needed to go back to medication. It was time, and it was not only not fair to the people around me, but it was definitely not fair to ME.
So, I talked with my primary care doctor, and I restarted a low dose of Zoloft. Okay, I’m going to be honest. She’s a new provider for me, and when she started talking about medications, I DID tell her what I do for a living. LOL. Because, I mean, at this point, I’m just saving us BOTH time. The first week of being on the medication was an adjustment. But I expected this; it had been a while, and my body had undergone major changes. That said, I’ve moved past that transition period and I’m starting to feel like myself again. I’m less irritable and can shake off frustrations more easily. I’m sleeping better, and I have the energy to stay on top of being physically active. I need both the medication and the physical activity; they make me my best and healthiest self. I’m also a much more present mother. My thoughts are not constantly racing with the “what ifs” and concerns of a future I can’t control. I’m just enjoying this stage because I’ll never get it back.
So, I said all that to say this: do what you need to do to be your best self. I’m a person who preaches self-care and needed to care for myself in this way. Will I have to be on medication for the rest of my life? Who knows? If I do, I’m good with it. It’s how I need to take care of myself the best, and what better way to tell others how to take care of themselves than showing this through action?
