Drugs (not the fun kind)

My friends: Zoloft and Xanax

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I used to take drugs just for fun (sorry, Mum and Dad).

Then, 18 months ago, I went to the doctor for a depression and anxiety test—and I aced it. A+! A little of each!

(As an overachiever, that is one test I would have been happy to fail.)

Looking back, it’s obvious why I needed some prescription help.

At the time, I genuinely thought the doctor would say, “You’re fine!” I only went to appease my partner.

I was so used to living with constant anxiety that I didn’t even recognize how bad it had become.

The worst of it started when Jake (my partner) unexpectedly ended up in the hospital for two weeks.

My world crumbled. I was running our business alone, at peak season, fueled entirely by anxiety.

Taking care of myself took a seat so far back, it wasn’t even in the car.

Then, after the dust settled, I started questioning everything.

Should I quit music?
Am I even happy?
Am I just doing this because I’ve done it for so long?

I became fixated on these questions while making zero progress toward an answer.

One day, while walking home from Frothy Monkey in 12 South, I was on the phone with Jake debating—once again—whether I should quit music.

He gently said, "Maybe you should talk to your doctor about going on something for a while."

I balked.

Then he said, “You’re a big supporter of antidepressants for other people; why is it not good enough for you, too?”

That hit me.

I made the appointment and started taking Zoloft, and my life improved almost immediately.

Recently, I took Xanax for the first time.

My doctor originally prescribed it along with Zoloft when Jake was in the hospital, and I’d lost 10 pounds because my anxiety was so bad I wasn’t eating.

For 18 months, that bottle sat in my bathroom, unopened. Just knowing it was there helped.

Until now.

I had to make a tough work decision, and the fallout hit me harder than I expected.

Immediately, my anxiety kicked in—jaw tight, stomach hollow, brain swirling with fix it, fix it, fix it.

Past Vanessa would have spiraled. Apologizing. Over-explaining. Desperately trying to make them not be mad at me.

Instead, I communicated clearly and kindly. Then, I left their last message on read—rather than pouring fuel on a fire that wouldn’t change the outcome.

I’m proud of that.

My brain is getting better at this. But my heart is still struggling.

So, for the first time in my life, I took a pill to calm my nerves.

I hope that, eventually, I won’t need medication to push past my people-pleasing instincts.

But right now, I’m accepting the small step in the right direction.

And I’m talking about it because we shouldn’t feel ashamed for getting the help we need.

I coach people on breaking through insecurities and limiting beliefs—perfectionism, self-doubt, people-pleasing—because this stuff is essential for career growth, especially for women.

That doesn’t mean I don’t experience it myself. Or that it’s easy.

The last 18 months would have been survivable without Zoloft, but they would have been a whole lot harder.

This weekend would have passed without Xanax, but I slept because of it.

Life is hard. Don’t be ashamed to take whatever help you can get. 🩷