Z is for Zoloft

Depression. Anxiety. Bipolar Disorder. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Did you cringe?

There's a bubble around the discussion of Mental Health. A bubble to disguise it, a bubble to hide it. A bubble that stigmatizes it, turns it into a monster. You shouldn't talk about it because it will get you. You shouldn't talk about it because others have it worse. You shouldn't talk about it because you're just being dramatic. That bubble gets bigger and bigger and darker and darker. You start to think that these people are right. Should I hide it? Should I keep it in this bubble? Should I tell anyone what I'm going through? For awhile, you'll decide on no. You're fine. That's what they tell you, anyway, their hot words only making that bubble bigger.

The bubble is big and strong now, all because of fear. But why? People are so frightened of the things that they don't know or understand. So frightened, in fact, that they would rather silence one asking for help just so that they are comfortable. How is that fair to the ones struggling most?

I've become very passionate about mental health and its underlying stigmas. This is because of my own personal battles with depreciating mental health. I found it hard to come out and talk about it. I felt like I was being dramatic, or sensitive, lazy or overtly introverted. That's what people told me, so that's what I believed.

I felt like I was being dramatic, or sensitive, lazy or overtly introverted. That's what people told me, so that's what I believed. 

 Have you ever lied to yourself? Have you ever told yourself that you were okay, that you would wake up tomorrow and it would all be sunshine and rainbows again? Have you ever believed it?

There comes a time when you can't lie to yourself anymore. Something is not quite right and you know it. It takes courage to come out from behind the curtains, to escape the darkness to tell your truth. It was surprising to see that people cared so much. That doctors knew what to do. That there were medications to try and people to talk to and things that would help. If I would've had the chance to talk about it sooner, I would've. I wouldn't have suffered alone for so long.


Society has always seen mental illness as a weakness. Despite all of the information we now have at our very own fingertips, things still have not changed. The stigma against mental health and wellness still lives on. We're still seen as weak, or lazy, or dramatic, even though that really isn't what is happening. It's a constant battle and struggle. We are stronger than you know.

I wish someone would've been there to hold my hand from the very beginning. Part of it is me. I didn't open up about my feelings. I've never been very good at that. But another part is society. I was sure no one wanted to know and that no one cared. Little did I know, I was so wrong.

I wish someone would've told me that it wasn't over and that I was doing my best. I wish someone would've told me that even after you start medication, even after meeting with a physician, you will still have those days. Those days where it takes all of your energy to breathe, let alone think.

The Zoloft helps, but I still have those days. Of course I do. I'm only human, fighting in my own battle.
I'm sitting there in bed, three in the morning, eyes on the green ceiling fan that doesn't match the decor of my bedroom. It's a scary place for my thoughts to be so late at night. I have to be my own savior, my own knight in shining armor. There is no room to be the damsel in distress.
I close my eyes and eventually sleep. I wake to pale light peeking through, telling me it's morning. I have my coffee, take my Zoloft. We go hand in hand these days. I do my schoolwork. I soldier on. Because that's all I can do.

XOXO