Why medication is OK for your anxiety and mental health

What you’re about to read is born out of some frustration. Maybe that isn’t the best frame of mind to write in. Or maybe when you’re most passionate is when you should write.

I’m not sure at this moment. So I’m just going to go for it and leave the rest up to God.

Let me start by giving you a peek behind the curtain. As I prepare to launch my anxiety book, I’ve written a series of articles that my incredible PR team is going to shop around to different outlets to spread the message and raise awareness. One of those articles you will hopefully see somewhere soon is about some practical ways to deal with your anxiety. God knows even those who aren’t clinically diagnosed need that right now. I think it’s going to be helpful.

My first tip in that article is something I’m passionate about. It’s a prominent theme in the book. Very simply, it’s this: please consider taking medication. I go on to explain how medication for anxiety is a common grace, or something God has given to help all of us no matter our status. We go to the doctor for a broken arm, or an infection, and we don’t think twice about the prescription the doctor writes us. But for some reason, when it comes to our mental well-being we do some mental gymnastics and try to do everything we can to justify not taking meds. And if you’re a person of faith, that’s even more true!

So I sent the article draft to someone to get their thoughts. I wanted feedback. The feedback I got is exactly why I wrote my book. 

As I looked back at the suggested edits from this person, I noticed something. My tip about medication was no longer the first point, it was now the last point. Attached to the change was a note: “Could raise questions / turn readers away so moving to the last point.”

I’m not going to lie, that frustrated me. But hear me out: I wasn’t frustrated at the person who made the edit. I respect her. I was frustrated because she’s exactly right! I don’t disagree. The truth is that taking medication for your mental health has been a lightning rod issue. And it drives me crazy. 

Medication for mental health has been stigmatized, maligned, and railed against. It’s been misunderstood and misrepresented. All of that is not just misguided, it’s dangerous. People who could benefit are being led astray, they’re being forced to grit it out, and they’re being told that their faith is in question. My heart breaks for them.

I’ve been there. I remember the hurt I felt when I told people, people I love, that I was taking medication and their reaction suggested I was one of those people who just didn’t have enough faith. And I’m not alone. When I first told the world about my diagnosis, I got countless messages from other Christians and people of faith who told me that they had either written off medication or started taking it in secret because they were shamed as a result. 

Think about that for a second. That’s sad. That’s frustrating. But most of all, it’s just bad theology. 

I talk more about this in my book, but the truth is that (as I mentioned earlier) medication is a common grace. A common grace is something God has given to all people as a gift. The sun, the rain, and medication. Antibiotics, chemotherapy, and psych meds. 

There’s this idea that we’re weak if we take medication for our minds. I’m here to tell you that I think you’re strong for doing so. And a big part of that is because you not only admit that you can’t do it on your own, but you’re also committing to fighting against the stigma attached to it.

Let me also say this: I think it’s actually prideful to ignore God’s common grace of medication. It says you can decide how God wants to help you. “God, you can help me (or even heal me) in any way possible except that one way.” That’s ridiculous. In fact, I think sometimes it takes more faith to put your trust in something you don’t want to do. 

Let me give this caveat, though. I’m not out here diagnosing everyone with clinical anxiety and pushing medication for every person in every situation. What I am saying is that I just don’t want you to write it off. I want you to simply consider it. Talk to your doctor, your counselor, your psychiatrist. Make the decision with them. Just don’t patently say it’s not for you. 

I can tell you that anxiety medication has changed my life. Why? Because my battle is both a physical and a spiritual issue. I’m not interested in a one-size-fits-all approach, and I’m not interested in simplifying my issue to something that can just be medicated away. But if you hear one thing, hear this: I can't address my deeper spiritual issues (lack of trust, pride, a desire to control everything) if I don’t address my physical issues first. When my mind is racing, when my heart is beating out of my chest, when my obsessions are ruling my life, there’s no way for me to address those other things. Medication doesn’t numb me, it doesn’t strip me of my personality or who God made me to be. It simply puts me in the best position to actually be the person he created me to be.

If you’ve been on the fence about medication, here’s your permission to explore it. If you’ve given up on mediation because of shame, here’s your permission to get back on it. If you’ve flushed it down the toilet because you’d rather do it on your own, here’s the nudge to take another look and approach the idea with a better understanding. 

If you need more encouragement, or if you have more questions, email me. Let’s talk about it. 

Now excuse me, I have to go take my meds.