The Moment I Acknowledged the Necessity of Anxiety Medication

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On a bright, sunny morning, I found myself in the kitchen, washing dishes while my young son, Ethan, sat at the table, his legs swinging as he cheerfully munched on his cereal. As I absentmindedly nodded to his endless chatter, I suddenly noticed a lull in the conversation. Looking over, I saw him gazing at me with a puzzled expression.

“Mommy, you smile all the time now. And you seem to like me more lately,” he remarked innocently before returning to his breakfast, seemingly unaware of the impact of his words.

In that moment, tears welled in my eyes and a chill ran through me—not due to hurt feelings, but from the realization that my new anxiety medication was beginning to take effect. He was right.

The challenges of motherhood had weighed heavily on my mental well-being. Ethan’s birth had come with life-threatening complications, and the journey home from the hospital was far from smooth. A prolonged breastfeeding illness and bouts of postpartum depression left me disillusioned with my expectations of motherhood.

I was unprepared for the sleepless nights and the overwhelming responsibility of caring for a small child around the clock. As a stay-at-home mother, feelings of isolation and loneliness crept in, yet I pushed those emotions deep down, angry at myself for not fully embracing the joy of watching my son grow.

Over time, anxiety quietly took root within me. I experienced restlessness, sleepless nights, and crippling self-doubt. Good days left me feeling uneasy, while bad days were marked by panic and anger. I clung to routines, believing that control over my schedule meant I was succeeding as a mother. I drove myself to exhaustion, all while masking the truth of my struggles.

A relentless cycle of self-doubt played on repeat in my mind: Good mothers don’t resent their lives. Good mothers don’t feel anxious about spending time with toddlers. Good mothers don’t voice complaints about motherhood.

The arrival of my daughter, Lily, exacerbated my symptoms, yet I remained silent. My life appeared beautiful, yet I found myself crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by anxiety that felt more unbearable than any physical pain I had ever known. Despite having a loving home and family, joy eluded me. I convinced myself that others had it worse, shoving my feelings of despair aside while donning a facade of happiness.

No one recognized how terrified I was, as I lacked the language and strength to express my distress. But the crying grew more frequent. Sleep became elusive, arguments with my husband escalated, and I found myself unable to engage with my children.

I felt trapped in a cycle where admitting my struggles felt like admitting failure. I feared becoming the woman who sobbed in her doctor’s office, pleading for answers to my irritability and insomnia. When my physician suggested that anxiety could be responsible for my symptoms, I resisted. Surely it was my thyroid or hormones—anything but a diagnosis that carried social stigma. I believed that admitting to anxiety was a form of defeat.

However, my doctor’s words struck a chord: if diagnosed with diabetes, I would take insulin; if my thyroid malfunctioned, I would seek treatment. “Anxiety is a real disease,” he asserted, looking me in the eye. He affirmed that my symptoms were valid and that medication could help. When he asked how ignoring my symptoms had been working for me, I reluctantly chose to embrace a path toward healing.

That afternoon, I began medication for my anxiety, skeptical yet filled with shame. Six weeks later, as I washed dishes, I felt a shift. Ethan’s observation about my newfound joy marked a turning point. When I pulled him into my arms and whispered, “Mommy loves you,” I finally felt genuine happiness for the first time since becoming a mother.

Every journey to rediscovering joy in motherhood is distinct, and mine included medication that ultimately changed my life for the better. I express gratitude for it daily.

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By acknowledging the necessity of treatment, I reclaimed my joy and reconnected with my children.