Keep Calm and Don't Listen to Conspiracy Theorists

I currently have a lovely job working at a small juice/gluten-free/raw foods restaurant. I love my boss, my co-workers, the food, and the clients. I even love the boss's conspiracy-theorist mother, even though I disagree with many of the things she says. But today she pushed things too far, and too personal.*

We were talking about learning skills like canning, building fires, and other things that most folks don't know anymore but can be really important for human survival. At this point, we got to speculating about what it would be like if the power went out for a really long time. My boss's mother opined that a lot of people would die. "People on medications,..Diabetics,..people on SSRIs. Talk about a nation of zombies!"

I won't even touch on the fact that diabetes is not always something that people inflict upon themselves through poor lifestyle. Being ill or healthy has no relation to morality. But as someone who takes an SSRI and would survive the apocalypse and come out swinging, I took a lot of offense to the crack at people with depression.

You see, I was diagnosed with depression when I was 19. I knew I had it coming. Pretty much everyone on my mom's side of the family has some kind of mental health issue. Since my first major depressive incident, I've seen several therapists, read a ton of about depression, and done everything in my power to try and keep myself mentally healthy. I took time off of college. I stopped doing certain substances. But more importantly, I began taking Lexapro, an anti-depressant that is an SSRI.

You may say that people on SSRIs are zombies, but antidepressants have only helped me to be more alive.

Do you think I want to be taking a medication that makes me sometimes act like a moron after one glass of wine, and sometimes zap whatever remains of my energy after it's been drained by depression itself? Of course not! But if you think that diet, exercise, meditation, and prayer can cure depression, then you clearly have never had a serious mental health issue. My extended family would have saved so much time, money, and heartache, if dealing with mental illness had been as easy as just eating a vegan diet, or attending church more frequently.

If exercise and diet could cure depression, then the year before I was diagnosed with depression would have been the best one of my life. I exercised for almost an hour every day, and ate mostly fruits and vegetables. When I wasn't thinking about what I ate, I was ruminating on why I wasn't more popular, a better musician, better at school, and better at life. Each morning I weighed myself, and watched the pounds drop away. If I ate too much peanut butter, or an entire chocolate bar, I'd stick the end of a toothbrush down the back of my throat to get rid of the shame of doing what I desired. I was practically a gluten-free vegan, and I could have run a half-marathon, but I was miserable. I never want to feel that way again.

I started to eat more like a normal person during a summer of talk therapy. My struggles with bulimia finally ended a year later, after I'd been on Lexapro for around 3 months and in therapy for about a year. That summer, I ate meat, wrote, played music, worked really hard, made friends, and figured out how to appreciate myself. I made more of a contribution to society than I ever had been able to before.

When most people find out that I have depression, they're pretty surprised. But that's because like most people, I try to hide my worst self. I'm very hesitant to talk about why I am the way I am, because I don't always like that person. I still go through periods when I avoid people, and complain all the time because I'm feeling  all of the sadnesses of the world and others more strongly than I have space in my body to feel. My depression is something that I will always have to deal with, but thanks to the miracle of modern medicine and advances in talk therapy, it is something that I can acknowledge and work through, instead of giving in to the urges to hide or throw myself in front of a car.

 My mental health problems could have been a lot worse. I'm incredibly fortunate that I've been able to get my depression under control. My heart goes out to those who haven't had the support or means to treat their mental illnesses. It makes me sad that people like my boss's mother don't acknowledge that depression is a real problem and that science has made huge strides that can help people with mental illnesses be productive members of society.

There are many horror stories about anti-depressants, but for every person who has a bad reaction to the flu shot, there are even more who stay healthy all winter long.  Antidepressants are not a panacea for all sadness. You can't just throw drugs at a problem and expect it to go away. But the drugs sure can help a lot.

Currently, I'm at my happiest and healthiest. I love my body, I love my brain, and I love being alive. There are always aspects of my life that could be going a whole lot better. If life were perfect, it would be boring. Anti-depressants give me the ability to deal with these imperfections and use them as fuel for a rich, and interesting life. And if that makes me a zombie, then I'm okay with that.


*It should be noted that this woman had no idea that I have depression, and I intend to keep it that way, so she doesn't try to shove weird herbal remedies down my throat. She is a loving, caring, woman, who I'm sure had no intention to offend. Pre-antidepressants, I probably would have run from work crying, instead of channelling my anger into a piece of writing.