Imins. For the first six years that I took antidepressants, I did so secretly after breakfast. told my grandmother that they were vita-
After my grandfather died in 2004, I was a bit more open; that’s when I created the vitamin ruse. Vitamins were nonsensical to my grandmother, but not as attractive to ridicule as antidepressants.
All of my grandparents seemed to believe that a doctor’s cure would do more harm than good; that hospitals were for dying. Although my paternal grandmother, a clinical psychologist, believes in psychotherapy, I have not yet been able to bring myself to admit my pharmaceutical habit to her. She has a well-worn copy of Worst Pills, Best Pills: A Consumer’s Guide to Avoiding Drug-Induced Death or Illness among her reference books.
Not only could I not raise the subject of antidepressants, but when I mentioned that I was working to reduce the stigma of mental illness in the Jewish community, my grandfather lauded my work but cautioned me that “craziness might be catching.” What could I say in response: “It’s okay; I’m already crazy”? “Depression is not ‘craziness’”?
I began taking antidepressants the day after Yom Kippur 5758. Though I’d picked up the prescription in time to start taking them on Yom Kippur, I was young, foolish, and frum and decided to wait the extra day. They started working two days after Simchat Torah. I have been on them now for over ten years.
The pills have been part of my life for so long that I hardly ever think about them. I think about the pills like the allergy medicine that I have been taking, more or less, since I was eight. I would rather take a chance with potential unknown side effects of antidepressants than suffer the effects of depression, which are well-known to me.
Most of the time, when acquaintances see me taking the pills, they either ignore me or quietly tell me what they’re on and how well it works or doesn’t work. People who do not know that I am on antidepressants sometimes declaim in my presence against our medication-dependent society and make fun of pill-poppers. As a nonconfrontational type, I generally remain silent. Part of me would want to launch into a monologue about what the quality of my life
ANONYMOUS
would be like without those pills. Would anyone make fun of someone who takes beta-block-ers for their heart? Or insulin for diabetes?
The shame and stigma that depression still carries in our society, both Jewish and general, is infuriating. That shame causes far too much unnecessary pain; many people avoid treatment because of it and others must watch them suffer. While few would imagine that people with heart disease could “fix” themselves, or that people with diabetes could regulate their blood sugar without insulin, there is an assumption that somehow I should be able to fix my mood disorder “on my own.”
Most people are bewildered when I speak about my depression, which I only do out of necessity or when I actively want to help people understand depression better. Perhaps I’d be better served by keeping it more of a secret, but keeping secrets is no way to reduce stigma or to re-cover from depression. Some people awkwardly try to be helpful; others share their own mental health struggles, or those of family members. Some people simply tell me that I do not belong in whatever environment we find ourselves.
The Jewish community, and secular culture at large, could do a much better job supporting and including people struggling with depression and other forms of mental illness. We’re all around you. We hear the disdain toward the mentally ill and toward those who need drugs to help maintain an even keel, and you make things harder for us for no reason. It is because of this disdain that I am choosing to publish this piece anonymously. In all of my efforts to heal, I have been strong, honest, and brave — but even I am not brave enough to come out as a survivor of depression in this journal.
The author of this piece is a freelance writer and editor. She is passionate about integrating Torah study with life experience and emotional truths, and would one day like conversations about mental health to be as honest as conversations about physical illnesses. She edits Borei Hoshech, http://boreihoshech.wordpress .com, a blog dedicated to the interplay between depression and tefilah.
June 2009/Sivan 5769 To subscribe: 877-568-SHMA www.shma.com
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