Editor’s Column: May 2025

It’s OK to not be OK. 

For myself and my fellow millennials, this is not a foreign concept at all. We grew up hearing it at music festivals and on TV as the birth of mental health and substance use awareness was taking place. But I always associated it with extreme mental health crisis, suicidal ideation, needing to check into a facility. As a person with depression and anxiety being treated by therapy and medication, it felt as inapplicable as the Narcan we give out at events—a really great harm reduction tool, but not anything that would ever apply to me directly, for personal use. 

And then one day, I woke up, and it did apply to me. It was nothing that happened all at once, more of a slow burn. I lost my father in 2023 and my dog in 2024. All while this was happening, I was dealing with normal life crisis—conflicts with partners, financial instability, overwhelm and burnout, all while also navigating some very weird, specific-to-me issues, like dealing with my eccentric father’s estate (or lack thereof), navigating how to run a small queer media business in a country that demonizes queer people, small business and independent media, and touring with a band across the country. 

While all this was going on, mind you, I lost both my therapist and my psychiatrist. We switched insurance and my therapist no longer took my plan, and my psychiatrist moved out of state. I have been making it a point these past few years, especially after losing my father, to take care of my health. I’ve been eating better and working out, and I try to get plenty of outside time while wearing sunscreen. I meditate and do yoga, all that good stuff. I figured while I was between therapists and making changes, it would also be a good time to ween myself off of generic Lexapro. I felt I had the tools to manage on my own, no matter what life threw at me. 

That’s where I was wrong. For the couple of months that I was off of Lexapro, I woke up every morning with an intense pit of anxiety gnawing at my stomach, like a beast clawing to get out. This happened even on sunny days when I went to bed happy and woke up without anything miserable or foreboding hanging over me. It was just my resting state. Driving and walking through my daily life, I was so anxious I was shaking with the constant feeling in my stomach that the other shoe was about to drop, even if the first shoe hadn’t. If that slowed even for a second, it was replaced not with a quiet calm but with a yawning chasm of deep despair. I was not OK. 

After one particularly rough day spent crying and freaking out over a crisis that really wasn’t that dire, I decided enough was enough. I was going to go back on Lexapro, and not only that, I was going to double the dose while I looked for a therapist (under the supervision of a doctor, I don’t want to encourage self-medicating). I did, and I feel much better now. The anxiety is still there, but it’s more like an annoying friend who comes and knocks at the door sometimes even though she knows I won’t let her in. It’s not constantly around, and it’s not ruling my life. 

Why do I tell you all this? Because on paper, I semi have my shit together. I’m still dealing with debt and low wages thanks to capitalism and inflation, and I have a messy family. But I also have a nice home that I rent, some sweet pets, food on the table, friends and partners and family, and even—albiet thanks to working a ton of side jobs—a little money left over from time to time to do something fun. I’m not living on the streets; I’m not addicted to anything but caffeine, and most of my problems are pretty standard, like losing an elderly pet or parent. 

But still, for all that, I was not OK. And you know what, I have a pretty bad hereditary chemical imbalance in my brain, and I may never be OK without medication. And that’s OK too. As our lovely associate editor Julie River would say, if you can’t make serotonin on your own, store-bought is fine. 

So, if you’ve been feeling like you should be able to get by without the meds, or the therapy, just know that you don’t have to. No matter what you’re dealing with or who you are, it’s OK to not be OK. Many of us have been there, and there’s no shame getting the help you need. You are loved and you are valid no matter what.