You wouldn’t tell a diabetic to just get over it.
I’ve made such comparisons before, but I really feel it needs emphasis. So here’s a little reminder.
I had an atrocious headache the other day. Absolutely horrible. And I realized hours later that I hadn’t even bothered to take any pain meds. Not even simple ibuprofen. My dad used to preach at me that it’s better to ride things out than to be dependent on medicines that I might become addicted to.
For a headache.
And suddenly I felt ashamed for how many years it had taken me to actually tell my doctor I was suffering from severe depression and anxiety and ask for help. I was 21 before I sought out antidepressants and therapy. I was 22 before I actually followed through with my treatment plan, returning to the doctor’s office with my tail tucked between my legs and admitting I thought drugs and counseling were for people who weren’t strong enough to kick it on their own. Pride thoroughly beaten and my mental health falling to shreds in my hands, I started to really follow my doctor’s instructions.
The analogy of a diabetic only grows more profound the older I get. Little things cement its truth in my psyche as the months and years roll on.
So here’s the basic truth of the matter: Every single human being on the planet depends on the neurochemicals that stabilize mood. Some people’s brains just make it naturally, where as you and I have to buy ours from the pharmacy.
It’s okay that you’re not neurotypical. Some people don’t have that excuse and no amount of medication can fix them being an asshole. You’re fine, dear.