i finally was able to get my prescription for my anxiety meds renewed today (and increased the dose). hopefully it’ll continue working as well (without the side effects from the last medication i was on).

It occurred to me while i was taking the bus home all the years and time i spent being too anxious to leave the house and struggling with life (in this one respect). years spent struggling because i was fairly adamant about not using medication (in part because I saw my sister have a bad experience with being prescribed an unnecessary medication by a doctor not very interested in her mental health).

But the large reason why i resisted the notion of seeking medical/pharmaceutical treatment for my anxiety was simply the internalized ableism I had about thinking that using medication in this way was weak and sign of failure. years spent believing the toxic lies that you can actually just pick yourself up by your bootstraps (or, if you can’t, then you aren’t worth any aid in the first place).

Time spent internalizing the general message that using medication to treat psychological disorders will turn you into an unfeeling/changed person. That you’ll somehow become radically different and unrecognizable to the people who love you.

We get all these messages.

But not the ones from people who’ve, like me, have actually had the pleasure of not needing to spend hours everyday convincing themselves to leave the house. Or simply having more attention and energy to devote to things i actually enjoy, once i am able to spend less effort struggling with my anxiety.

Not the messages from the people who medication actually was able to help give their loved ones back to them, because you aren’t actually your disorder.

what might my life have been like, if i’d had access to a less toxic environment? if i’d learned to prioritize my mental health (as well as my physical – fuck, to even realize that these two things cannot be actually separated and that one needs to work on both)?