Antidepressants Saved My Life

It’s funny, because the few times I’ve shared about this on Instagram, I get flooded with comments telling me how effed up it is that I’m “pushing pharmaceuticals” onto people. 

Umm…what?

If you already know me, then this won’t be news to you. But if you’re new here, then let me very clear about something:

I think it’s ethically wrong of influencers to be pushing anything in the medical space. Cough, cough yes, I’m looking at you lesbian influencers slanging IVF things. 

In my opinion, there’s just some things that shouldn’t be *influenced,* and medical care is one of those things. This comes from the belief that we should have autonomy over our bodies. 

And. 

I also understand why people share their stories about their health struggles and unexpected cures:

Because the medical industry has failed us time and time again, making it more difficult to trust doctor’s when we’ve all agreed to medical treatments without informed consent. 

So, when random people on the internet share their experiences, it can not only help others feel less alone, but it can also shed light on alternative options for healing whatever the heck is going on. 

That, however, is a lot different than someone with a large platform telling you to get vaccinated, or to take a magic pill.

Needless to say, this isn’t a post pushing pharmaceuticals. Trust me, I’ve been skeptical of this industry for a long time. 

This is a post that wants you to encourage you to take your mental health seriously, and to treat it in any way that works for you. 

Maybe that means downing Ayahuasca in the jungle (been there, done that). Or maybe it means taking a meditation course. Perhaps it means getting a solid workout routine in place.

Or maybe it means calling a psychiatrist, and getting a prescription. 

The point is, unlike so many other spaces in the wellness and yoga world, there’s truly no judgment here in how you take care of yourself. 

I just want you to do it. 

Antidepressants Saved My Life

It’s no secret I’ve been in an (uphill) fertility battle for nearly two years now. 

In that time, I’ve shared both here on the blog and on my socials about the mental side effects I’ve had from some of the fertility medication, hormones, and miscarriages. 

The very first time we tried (doing an IUI), I did it fully medicated. And while the result was good, because I got pregnant (yay!), it didn’t last. 

I had a horribly dark period after that that felt akin to the hormonal depression I’d experienced years prior when going off of birth control for the first time in 15 years, so I assumed it was from the medication. Although I’m sure there was a part of it from the pregnancy hormones themselves. 

After that, I did my best to avoid medication during fertility, because I was scared to go that low again. 

Honestly, it never even occurred to me to talk to a psychiatrist or to try to take an antidepressant to help me through the aftermath of the fertility meds. 

Over a year later, and still no successful pregnancy, I finally caved and started going to the medicated route again. 

I just wanted it to work. 

I held out hope that maybe the crash I’d had before wasn’t actually from the meds, and was in fact, from the pregnancy loss. 

And then May happened. 

Depression And Fertility

We’d tried four times already, and all had been unsuccessful. One chemical pregnancy, three negative tests, and what felt like an endless loop of disappointment. 

I was in the two week wait period of my most recent try, even though I kind of already knew it didn’t work. Anyone who’s gone through this before can vouch for that knowing you get each time. 

I was already on a slippery slope over the dark edge of depression, and was finally pushed over the edge when I found out my only sibling’s recent conversion to Catholicism meant he now saw my sexual orientation as a “disorder,” and my marriage with my wife as invalid. 

Oh yeah, and also that he didn’t support us having a baby (especially via any sort of medical intervention), because it was “morally wrong.”

This is honestly a whole story in and of itself, but the long and the short of it is that my brother was my best friend. Losing him to his newfound beliefs has been the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. 

There’s something exquisitely painful about grieving someone who’s still very much alive. 

We had an exchange of emails about this topic that put all of our opinions and beliefs out in the open for once. Every word I read from him felt like salt in the wound, until I couldn’t take it anymore. 

A few days later, I had another negative test, and I officially *lost it.*

I should also mention that this was our last try before switching to IVF, which had always been a last resort for me. I was terrified of my ability to be able to handle the medication needed for IVF. 

How the hell was I going to be able to do that when I could hardly handle 5 measly pills for IUI? No joke, IVF requires about 20x the medication as anything I’d done before. 

You might understand why this IUI attempt failed felt heavier than ever, because it meant more than just not being pregnant. It meant I now had to do it another way that I wasn’t sure I would be able to survive. 

I know some of you might be rolling your eyes at the sound of that, but that’s not an exaggeration. Depression is a matter of life and death. 

And even someone who likes to think of themself as pretty damn self-aware, grounded, and in control of my emotions can fall down that slippery slope into an abyss of just…..nothingness. 

So, about a week after my 36th birthday, I couldn’t sleep. I was used to crying myself to sleep, but this night was different. It was like I was too empty to even cry. 

I had looping thoughts of self harm that were getting harder to quiet, and I realized:

I need help. 

I’m also someone who suffers from chronic guilt (no, I’m not the Catholic one), so I also felt incredibly guilty about even having these thoughts. And also pretty damn guilty about putting this much of a burden on my wife, knowing I needed more care than just one (unqualified, might I add) person could provide. 

Suddenly, I was furiously Googling “mental hospitals near me,” as I was seriously considering checking myself into a treatment center. 

But then that sneaky guilt crept in again, and I felt horrible about spending that kind of money on my mental health….especially when my wife had just been laid off, and our future was a bit of a question mark. 

I took a second to really think about this. 

What did I actually need?

I realized I felt incredibly alone in this fertility process, despite having a loving, supportive partner. There’s something inevitably isolating about the experience, even if you have the best spouse in the world. 

I needed to talk to a professional that could help navigate the heartbreak that comes with fertility journeys. Someone who knew exactly what the hell was going on with my hormones, and how that would impact my mental health. 

I didn’t want to have to explain the process to someone.

(On a sidenote, you’d be shocked to learn how many medical professionals have zero clue how IUIs or IVF work, and you have to explain the process in detail)

I was tired. I didn’t want to explain. Also, I wanted support. 

My fingers Googled their way through many options, before I landed on a psychiatrist for fertility. This just felt right. 

To be honest, I didn’t realize that this would mean I’d walk out of that appointment with a prescription in hand. 

I wasn’t even seeking pharmaceutical help at that time. 

I just wanted support. So I booked a session. 

Wellness Culture And Depression

It didn’t matter that my depression scores were off the chart. It didn’t matter that my PTSD was still very present. So, it didn’t even matter that I’d admitted to suicidal ideation and self harm. 

I still felt guilty at the mere thought of taking an antidepressant. 

And right next to the guilt was this looming presence of feeling like a failure. Of feeling weak. Like I cheated on a test, by taking the easy way out. 

I left that meeting with the psychiatrist with a new prescription in hand that Alix filled for me the same day “just in case.” she said. 

But I didn’t take it for another month. 

I just carried it around with me, thinking about it often. Gaslighting myself into thinking the darkness wasn’t really that bad, now that I was starting to emerge on the other side of it. 

It’s easy to change our memories, isn’t it? Have you ever realized that?

We’re either looking back at things with rose colored glasses, or through some cynical lens. Usually it’s not exactly balanced and clear. 

I was in the beginning phases of IVF, meaning I was prepping for my egg retrieval. I had a few blissful weeks without any medication, and that’s when I started to re-calibrate. Of course I started re-writing history, and telling myself it wasn’t that bad the month prior. 

I didn’t need these pills. 

Until I did. 

I felt the darkness start to creep in like fog rolling into the coast on a summer’s day. I was there, just sort of hovering above, but the sun was still trying to peek through. 

The first time I had self harm thoughts loop through again, I decided: that’s it. 

I’m taking it. 

I know I won’t be able to get through IVF unassisted in this way, and I don’t want to do that to my wife. Let alone to our future child. 

And the next morning I took the first pill. 

I was so scared of losing myself if I was medicated. I was so scared of not being able to feel anything. Also, I was so scared to feel like a failure. 

Instead, I’ve actually felt more like myself than ever. Truly, I like myself more now. I also feel more than I did before. The funny thing is actually the thing that depression numbs me out…..not the antidepressants. And I realized that I wasn’t a failure at all. 

I was actually quite brave for seeking help, and then finally accepting it. 

I was stuck on that point, though. 

Why did I feel like a failure for taking medication that improves my health?

If you read my life update post, then you’ll know my wife was diagnosed with two autoimmune diseases right around this same time. One of which requires her to be on medication for life, because her body is unable to produce cortisol on its own. 

So, let’s get this straight: she’s also taking a hormonal medication that her body struggles to produce enough of, but since it’s an autoimmune disorder as opposed to a mental disorder, then that’s “okay” in the eyes of society?

Yep, pretty much. 

I’ve heard a lot of people say, “it’s 2024, everyone is depressed! Mental health isn’t stigmatized anymore.” 

And I have to say, I couldn’t disagree more. 

Is mental health more openly talked about than our parent’s generation? Absolutely. Do people talk about therapy and different diagnoses in passing conversations? Yep, they do. 

Hell, people even put their diagnosis in their Instagram bios, and make a whole damn brand about it. 

So yeah, it’s changed a lot in the last few decades….let alone even the last 7 years, or so.

But if you’re like me, and you’re steeped in the world of wellness- then you might notice it’s a little *different* in our space. 

Keep in mind, you don’t have to be a yoga teacher to be a wellness wizard. You might just live in California, and wellness is in the culture of the air you breathe. 

Or maybe you’re a gym person, or a Pilates girlie. Maybe you’re into a certain way of eating, or biohacking your way to be 150 years old. 

In this day and age, the world of wellness is no longer fringe. It’s glaringly in the mainstream thanks to huge podcasts, Whole Foods, and social media.

And because of that, we’re all influenced by it to some degree or another. It’s almost hard to escape, honestly. 

In case you missed my post about homophobia and yoga, then you might not realize the ways in which wellness is so closely tied to the same purity culture we observe in organized religion.

Only, instead of showing up around having sex, we see it around what we consume. Whether it’s the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the products we use to clean our homes….we’re obsessed with “clean living” and being as “non-toxic” as possible. 

Look, don’t get me wrong, I’m on board with this to some extent, okay? I’ve experienced first hand the detriment of some of these products and foods, and generally like to take a more natural approach when I can. 

However, it’s important to note that welless boils it down to this:

Natural = good.

Unnatural = bad. 

And the reality is that life is a hell of a lot more nuanced than that. If it wasn’t, then I think we’d all have the secret code to success by now, wouldn’t we?

For example, when it comes to mental health you hear people talk about drinking Ayahuasca instead of taking antidepressants, because it’s a more “natural” approach. 

Yes, the two plants that make up an Ayahuasca brew are wild, natural plants in the Amazon. 

And also, this drink can kill you. Or make you have a psychotic break. 

Natural doesn’t mean it’s weaker, and it certainly doesn’t mean it’s less dangerous.

Breathwork is another example when it comes to treating mental health, because yes, breathing is literally the most natural thing in the world, right?

Yes, and certain techniques can also cause psychotic breaks, or even cause real physical harm to your body if not done correctly. 

The funny thing is that wellness warriors are really talking out of both sides of their mouths when touting nature as better. 

It’s like they’re saying it’s safer, because- what? It’s weaker? 

But then aren’t you also saying it’s more powerful than an artificial approach?

So, which was it? I’m confused. 

That’s because it. doesn’t. make. sense. 

Here’s the thing, you’ll still be catching me using Tom’s fluoride-free toothpaste, and avoiding plastic as much as I can. You’ll still find me taking supplements, and drinking Chinese herbs from my acupuncturist. 

I believe in a natural approach to living. 

And I also believe in a more natural approach to healing. Which is why you’ll still find me showing up on my yoga mat every day, and prioritizing meditation every night with my freaking LED mask on. 

I am truly that bitch. 

What I don’t subscribe to is the shame that’s pushed on people who don’t buy all organic, or who can’t afford to buy non-toxic cleaning products, and baby supplies. 

I don’t believe in the superiority complex that comes with wellness culture, nor the lack of acknowledgement of privilege and culture. 

Life isn’t black and white. 

So why the hell would healing be black and white either?

F Stigmas In Mental Health

The first time I shared about taking antidepressants, the onslaught of critical (or downright hateful) comments came only from those in the world of wellness. 

Fellow yoga teachers, self proclaimed “healers” and coaches…you name it. 

Honestly, I can read these comments and laugh. They don’t actually get to me. But what does get to me is knowing these are leaders in their community (no matter how big or small that may be), telling their own clients, students, and audience members the same harmful rhetoric they’re spewing on my page. 

I have a real problem with that. 

Because younger Kayla, who was more easily influenced by snake oil salesman types, and who dove head first into both spirituality and wellness would’ve eaten that messaging right up.

I did eat it up. 

That’s why it took me over 20 years to actually get medical help for a lifelong condition. 

It breaks my heart to know there’s- what- thousands (if not more) other people who were just like me, suffering in silence, trying to meditate through the pain, because they don’t want to be shunned from their own community. 

What’s even scarier is knowing that people who don’t seek the help they truly need can, and do, die. Every day. 

We’ve all heard the stories of the women who tried to coffee enema or juice their way through a treatable cancer diagnosis, because chemo was too “toxic.” And they died. 

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it a million times over:

Mental health is health. 

That means, it’s just as serious (sometimes even more so) as our physical health. 

This is why I continue to share my story- the celebrations and embarrassments, alike. 

Because I want to show you what it’s like to live in the gray area, rather than the black and white. Because I hope you can read this, and decide to give a shit about your mental health in whatever way makes sense for you. 

I’m not “pushing pharmaceuticals.” Hell, I don’t even know how long I’ll be on these things. 

Instead, I just want to show you that you can be someone who likes to freaking free bleed on your period, and also take antidepressants. I want to show you that you can be a yoga teacher for over a decade, and also take antidepressants. I want to show you that you can be someone who buys organic, eats whole foods, makes her own yoga mat cleaner…..and be on antidepressants. 

It’s a both, and. 

Not an either, or. 

I hope you remember that.

xx,

K