Giving hard truths wrapped in a beautiful dressing of words is sort of my thing. Having my words soothe the truth of my intent is my other “life skills.” I feel it necessary to address the stigma around medication to help with mental health in the autistic population.
This past year was fight or flight for me. I felt anxiety rip away at all the good things I had worked so hard to build. Getting stuck for hours on meaningless ocd loops exhausted my mental well being and the fabric of my life. Being lost in my compulsions had a seductive lull and a siren’s call that this sailor couldn’t resist.
Before it, I was in the prime of accomplishments. I was taking classes. I was motor planning through my goals. Only a
nonspeaker knows what it is like to be that close to the sun. Like Icarus, though, I got too close and my wings gave way in a mess of wax and feathers. Instead of soaring, I fell towards earth.
Changes in my schedule made me dysregulated and angry. I lost control of my body. Leaving the house became impossible due to all the necessary rituals. I couldn’t sleep. I needed to do my rituals and compulsions all day. Is it a life to be stuck on the couch watching Disney? That was all my mind could handle.
My mother tried biomedical interventions, diets, and supplements, until I was sick of capsules and cauliflower pizza crusts. Nothing helped and I spiraled. Finally, we agreed that I needed to see a psychiatrist. Mental health issues plague my family. If it has a diagnosis code, we likely can add a name to it. My fear of developing a mood disorder on top of my autism has followed me my whole life. Now I was stuck in ocd and I was scared.
My psychiatrist is no nonsense. She isn’t here for your supplements or your reiki healing. Yet, she believes in my
communication because I’ve been taught it clean and crisp by my mother and EV and Evelyn and Donna.
We discussed my symptoms. She asked hard questions about what I wanted and my goals. She changed out my meds and went old school where the studies lead the way. My inner scientist appreciated the simplicity.
Right away I noticed an improvement. Happiness had been a ghost to me for a year, yet now I want to smile again. I have made my happy sounds again. I slowly emerge from my cave of ocd and stand, blinking, in the sun.
Having your life overrun by compulsions isn’t an autism thing, it’s its own mental health diagnosis. Having no medications to treat autism means we must treat the comorbidities. Help exists if we stop being paranoid about taking medication. I support biomedical interventions but I see no difference between feeding a gut supplements to be healthy if that is what’s needed and treating mental health issues with prescription medication. If it helps you get better, do it, and damn the naysayers.
About the Author
Ethan Nagy views himself as a renaissance man following his own interests, including history and math. Ethan is a published author, having contributed a chapter to the book Underestimated: An Autism Miracle. Joining the NLC is the perfect merging of his love of writing and his newfound passion for advocacy. Ethan resides in Oregon with his family.
One Response
Thank you for this blog post Ethan. I have been sharing it and it feels so relatable to so many, myself (a practitioner) included.