I wasn’t diagnosed with depression and anxiety until 2 years ago, but looking back, I realize that I’ve been suffering for most of my life. The disordered eating, the family problems, two sexual assaults, and the ever-present feeling of worthlessness all finally led to anti-depressants. In the beginning, I loathed the idea of having to wake up to a pill every day of my life. The very thought of it made me see myself as weak, as a failure, as someone who just couldn’t keep up with life.

Lately, that’s started to change. This morning I looked at myself in the mirror, at the pair of glasses perched on my nose. There’s no way I’d make it through the day without glasses or contacts. I’d trip and fall constantly, I wouldn’t see two feet in front of myself. Does it bug me sometimes that I don’t have 20/20 vision? Sure it does. But the fact that I don’t see well is not my fault, and that’s why we have glasses and contacts.

My eyes are weak, but that doesn’t mean that I am. So why the hell am I not giving my brain, a mere 2 inches above my precious little eyes, the same credit? That pill I take every morning right after I put my contacts in is going to help me through each day. I’m never going to be thrilled about taking meds, but it’s not my fault that I have to take them. I need extra help so I trip less, so I don’t fall, so I can take in every note on the blackboard. My brain is weak sometimes, but I’m not. It’s not my fault.

Put on those glasses. Swallow that pill. Seize the day.