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May is Mental Health Month, a cause near and dear to my heart since high school. I stand with Perfection Pending by Meredith Ethington to #StoptheStigma of mental health issues. If you haven’t read her honest, beautifully written piece, “Why I Take the Pill,” read it and see how it inspired me to question, and answer, the same issue for myself. There will never be a one-size-fits-all solution when it comes to the complexities of mental health, but for me, taking one little pill every morning is just one of many facets that come together to make me better, stronger, braver. I don’t regret it and I don’t apologize for it.

One Little Pill: How Taking an Antidepressant Makes Me Better But Doesn’t Define Me

I’ve taken one little pill since I was 16 years old. Actually, then, I took lots of pills. Antidepressant. Mood stabilizer. So many options, so many side effects. It took months and months to find the right combination. But we finally found it and the fog finally lifted.

For awhile.

But then … College. A time of finding yourself. Exploration. Fun for so many, but not so much for me. College was uncertainty. Insecurity. Crushing anxiety. So I took that little pill again. And the fog lifted again.

This time, I stayed on it. Post-college. Working world. Adulting. I got married, bought a house, got a puppy.

But then … Babies. I wanted to get pregnant and I didn’t want to be on an antidepressant. I had researched the risks and benefits. My pill, the one that had worked so well for so long, wasn’t recommended in pregnancy, so I started to taper off in anticipation. Withdrawal from it was unexpectedly awful. Heart palpitations. Brain zaps. Zero energy. Rebound anxiety. I felt worse coming off it than I had in years, and I got nervous. Maybe I can’t ever be off medication. Maybe I shouldn’t even get pregnant.

But I can, and I did, and I swore I would never take that little pill again. A month after coming off it, I got a positive pregnancy test. Nine months later, I had a newborn. I was terrified of postpartum depression. Surely the fog would creep back in.

It didn’t. I didn’t take that little pill for almost 3 years.

Then I was pregnant again. Each week of pregnancy, my anxiety bloomed a little more, like the blackest ink unfurling in water. At 28 weeks pregnant, I raised the subject with my doctor. We discussed. I pointed out my concerns; she calmed them. But I’m stubborn and wasn’t ready yet. “I’ll tough it out until after this baby is born,” I said. “It’s only 3 more months.”

“Three months is a long time to be miserable,” she responded. “It’s your choice. But I’d take the pill.”

I held out until 32 weeks pregnant. Then, once again, I started taking one little pill. Almost instantly, I could feel the edge come off, the sharpness soften. Quiet restored in my head. Relief, not regret.

Sawyer was born. He had a tongue tie; breastfeeding was excruciating. He cluster fed, didn’t nap, hardly slept. Either did I. Never was I so grateful for that little pill.

We had the tongue tie revised. Breastfeeding finally clicked. Sometimes he napped. Sometimes he slept 4-hour stretches overnight. But still something wasn’t right – with me, not the baby. I recognized the signs, like an old friend back again. I called the doctor, adjusted my dosage, found my new normal.

That was more than two years ago. Today I still take that one little pill and I’ve made my peace with the fact that I might always. It doesn’t bother me like it used to.

Because:

Taking that one little pill doesn’t make me weak. It makes me strong enough to realize when I need help and how to ask for it.

Taking that one little pill doesn’t change who I am. It allows me to be a more authentic version of myself, one who feels deeply, loves hard, and isn’t afraid all.the.time.

Taking that one little pill makes me better – a better mom, better wife, better coworker, better friend. I take that little pill not just for me but for everyone I love too: They deserve to have the best version of myself. The mom-wife-daughter-sister-friend who’s present and patient instead of distant, distracted, and overwhelmed.

Today is the last day of May, Mental Health Month, and I take that little pill, now, then, and in the future, because I don’t believe in limits. Anxiety and depression tried to place limits on me. I take that little pill every morning to find the strength and courage that’s already inside me to push past those limits. That one little pill doesn’t define me, but it does make me better.

For #MentalHealthMonth, let’s work together to #CureStigma. If you struggle with depression, anxiety, postpartum mood disorders, or any other mental health issue, you are not alone. One in 5 Americans is affected by mental health conditions. Know that it’s OK to ask for help – counseling, medication, whatever works for you. If you or someone you know needs help, contact @NAMICommunicate or call their helpline at 1-800-950-6264. Because staying silent doesn’t help anyone.