I Fell for Self-Healing

Taking prescribed medicine doesn’t make you a failure

I am lying on my back and have been for hours now. I am trying to breath through what feels like a thick layer of lead over my lungs. I have been this way for weeks. At first I thought it was Covid, but with none of the symptoms — no cough, no fever, no loss of smell or taste, I have to strike that from the list of possibilities. I find certain positions that bring relief — lying on my belly propped up on a stack of pillows, lying with my legs against the wall, lying in child’s pose. The only time breathing is not a chore is when I am asleep. But I cannot live asleep. I cannot make my deadlines asleep. I cannot speak to my niece and nephew asleep. I cannot take a walk asleep, or dance, or cook, or enjoy a sunset.

I’m all for positive thinking and using affirmations to build yourself up to face the world, but you can’t heal cancer with flower essences.

Eventually I find myself in a black plastic chair across from a tired young doctor who tells me it’s anxiety and offers me a prescription for a version of Xanax.

I’ve been here before — years ago mired in my Master’s work I began to have panic attacks. At one point things became so bad I had to move in with a dear friend because of an irrational fear that someone was going to kill me. I went to a doctor who told me I could quit my job or go on medication for the rest of my life. I balked. How dare he? I would show him. I started therapy, cut out all caffeine, tried to go vegan, was careful about the media I consumed, and meditated and did yoga. And it worked for a while.

But here I am again, 14 years later, being faced with a pill. And I bristle. I see this as a failure. I should be able to control this. Why can’t I control this?

I take the prescription and begin a low dose of a drug called Tafil. Each day, first thing in the morning, I take my little pink pill. I start therapy again over TalkSpace. And I can breathe again. So, of course, I stop taking the pill, because now I can control things, right?

This is the insidiousness of “self-healing” culture. It is what makes well-meaning people tell you that if you just drink this tea or just take this herb or just go vegan or if you just believe you are well, you’ll be okay. And I’m all for positive thinking and using affirmations to build yourself up to face the world, but you can’t heal cancer with flower essences. And I couldn’t heal my anxiety with lavender oil and chamomile tea.

I take my pill every day now. And after four months of taking my pill every day, I have been able to get my breath back to normal. But more important than that, I have stopped feeling like a failure for having to take my pill. Because that pill, like so many other resources that I have at my disposal, is a tool for my healing. I still meditate, still do yoga, still drink decaf coffee in the morning, am still trying to go vegan, but I also take my pill. And I talk more freely about taking my pill and having anxiety because I want others to see that doing so doesn’t mean that I or you are a failure. It means that we are human.

This story was originally published on blackwomeninwellness.com

For more of the good stuff, follow Fourth Wave, where we’re changing the world for the better, one story at a time. Got one of your own? Submit to the Wave!

For more by this author, try: