"No, dad, the meds aren't about helping me. They're about helping you." Out of the mouths of babes.
This intolerance toward emotional pain puts us at loggerheads with a basic truth about being human: Sometimes we just feel bad, and there’s nothing wrong with that—which is why struggling too hard to control our anxiety and stress only makes things more difficult.
I have learnt that there are two things that heal mental distress; love and work, or meaningful activity. I would like to add two more things; time and hope. My mother suggested Time, and patience, as she watched me gradually change over the course of my breakdown and subsequent depression, and, of course, it must have felt like forever for her. There were months when I made no progress whatsoever and was stuck on a ferris wheel of regret and self-recrimination. The things that healed my mental distress were the unconditional and unwavering love of my mother, my family and friends and the community I lived in.