Anxiety: Is It Real?

 Katie Bloomer

Anxiety: Is It Real?

A bottle of Lexapro sits on the cart next to my bed. It has been untouched for months since I learned that lifestyle changes have been proven to be more effective than medication. Even with this knowledge, I have not altered any of my habits, apart from not taking the Lexapro. Every morning, I quickly debate if I should take it again. After all, it might help me get out of this funk. However, if I try hard enough, I can probably do it on my own. 

This might seem like a weird thing to ponder because you usually take the medication that is prescribed and don’t really think much about it, at least, that is what I typically do. But this is different. There is nothing physically wrong with me. No source of pain that can be pointed to. No pain at all really. Just the constant feeling that everything I do is slightly off. Every movement needs to be thought through so I cause the least amount of disruption as possible. Something as simple as taking a sip of water in class could attract unwanted attention from my peers who are trying to listen to a lecture. Although, do I even notice when they give into the urge of quenching their thirst? No, because that would be crazy. 

For background, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder a few years ago, but that was no surprise. I have always been an anxious person, the old soul who overthinks things a bit too much. Although I have been the textbook case of a person with GAD, my parents were still surprised when I came home from a therapy appointment with the diagnosis. How could their only daughter be labeled as mentally ill? 

Even more shockingly, I am a psychology major with the dream of being a therapist. I spend my free time listening to podcasts about how declining mental health is becoming a nationwide crisis and study the various treatment options. In my health psychology class, we learn about the limited abilities of medication and the unrealized potential of lifestyle changes in improving mental health. 

Two years ago, I started out going to therapy, hoping that would fix all of my problems. It was enough for a while, but after leaving Rhode Island to go to Stevens, I was no longer able to see my therapist and struggled to find a new one. Instead, I decided to put my energy into finding a psychiatrist who immediately agreed with the Generalized Anxiety Disorder diagnosis and prescribed me a low dose of Lexapro. My primary care doctor immediately agreed that this was a good idea and gave me her support. So, I started taking the medicine, hoping it would help. For a bit, it did. I was so incredibly happy that for a few months, I couldn’t cry. This seemed like a good thing, but it felt kind of unnatural, as someone who usually cries every few weeks. It seemed like I was happy nearly everyday and I forgot what it felt like to have bad days. Although I felt pretty good, I decided to stop taking the Lexapro to compare my new normal to the unmedicated baseline and see if the change was actually due to the medication or if my anxiety just naturally went away after 19 years. I later learned that it is common for people to go off of psychiatric medications because they think they are cured, but in reality it's the medicine doing its job. My mom praised me for being cautious, just as much as she encouraged me to take the medicine in the first place. Who was she to tell me what to do? I am a psych major after all. 

So, I stopped taking the medication and the summer began shortly after. Things went downhill, but I attribute that to being back in Rhode Island and away from Hoboken which I had quickly grown to love. Upon returning to school and still not feeling back to the state of happiness that I had been at while on Lexapro, I considered returning to the medicine. However, as I leaned into my psychology classes, I learned that medication is not nearly as effective as making lifestyle changes like healthy eating and exercising. It became clear that if I wanted to be my best self, I would need to change my habits and the way I live my life. The trick is, this is really, really hard when you feel like you are constantly trying to dig your way out of a ditch. How can I think about exercising everyday when I can barely find the motivation to do my homework? 

I know the things I need to do, but they seem so far out of reach. Maybe taking medication would allow me to be motivated enough to make the changes I need and then I could continue on my own, without Lexapro. Or maybe one of these days I can self-generate the burst of motivation that I need to do it all on my own. Even though I am a supporter of medication to improve mental health, when it comes to using it myself, it feels like a crutch that I should not need. 

After all, isn’t everyone anxious? Why should I take medication while most people just brush it off or learn to deal with it? Sometimes it feels like being diagnosed with anxiety is just a way of saying you can’t handle it as well as other people. Despite having these thoughts about my own situation, when I think about it in terms of other people, like those that I will be helping as a future therapist, there is no question in my mind that a diagnosis of GAD is not the same thing as being a bit on edge sometimes. I guess all of this overthinking is, well, just part of having anxiety.