As a psychiatric nurse practitioner, I spend a lot of time talking about medication — when to start it, what it might help with, and most importantly, what it doesn’t change about you. But more than that, I spend time listening. Because behind every question about dosage or side effects, there’s usually something deeper: fear, frustration, stigma, or uncertainty. And I get it. So I want to use this space to answer not just the questions I hear in sessions, but the ones people are sometimes too nervous to ask.
💬 Why do people fear medication so much?
Because they’ve been told that needing help is weakness. Or that medication is a “crutch.” Or worse — that if they take it, they’ll become someone else entirely. There’s still a powerful stigma around psychiatric medication, and many people come into our first session already defending their choice not to take anything. It’s not that they’re against it, necessarily — it’s that they’ve been made to feel like they should be able to power through without it.
What I wish people knew is that taking medication is never about giving up. It’s about giving yourself a fighting chance. For some, it’s the tool that makes therapy actually work. For others, it’s the difference between getting through the day and living it fully. Medication doesn’t define who you are. If anything, it can help you come home to yourself again.
🧠 Are medications a “last resort”?
This is something I hear a lot, and it’s an understandable way to think — especially if you’ve been told to “try everything else first.” But medications aren’t a punishment or a final step after failure. They’re a treatment tool, and sometimes they’re part of the solution early on. We’re not ranking options like they’re levels in a game. We’re choosing what fits you — your symptoms, your history, your needs.
Sometimes, lifestyle changes, sleep, nutrition, and therapy are enough. Other times, the symptoms are too heavy to even begin those things — and that’s where medication helps lift the fog. It doesn’t mean something is wrong with you. It means you’re taking your well-being seriously.
🧩 What’s it like to sit with someone in their most vulnerable moment?
It’s humbling — and it’s never lost on me. Whether someone’s walking into their first appointment with tears in their eyes or sitting calmly on a telehealth screen with 20 years of bottled-up pain, I know I’m being trusted with something sacred. It’s not just about symptoms. It’s about stories. People share things they haven’t told anyone else, sometimes not even their therapist or family.
So when someone asks, “Do I really need meds?” — I know they’re really asking, “Am I broken?” And my answer is always no. You’re human. And humans deserve support, not judgment.
💊 Why “less is more” — and why I don’t just prescribe and walk away
One of the things that surprises people is how careful and collaborative medication decisions really are. I’m not interested in throwing a prescription at someone and hoping it sticks. We talk. We review what you’ve tried. We weigh your goals. And when we do decide to start something, it’s low and slow. Gentle. We check in. We tweak. We adapt.
And if it’s not helping? We try something else. You’re not stuck. You’re not on a conveyor belt. You’re in a relationship — one where your voice matters just as much as mine.
🤝 What does “informed choice” actually mean?
To me, it means you never feel pushed. You know your options. You ask questions. I give you honest answers — no jargon, no pressure. You get to say no. You get to say, “Let me think about it.” And we work from there. Every step of this is about partnership.
I also want you to know that I work with your therapist (if you have one). I don’t provide therapy — but I strongly believe in it. When we coordinate care, we’re making sure the emotional work and the medication support each other. That’s where the real healing happens — not just symptom control, but long-term growth.
❤️ Final Thoughts
I became a psychiatric nurse practitioner because I believe in treating people, not just problems. I know how heavy things can feel when you’re in it — and how vulnerable it can be to ask for help. If you’ve ever felt ashamed for considering medication, or afraid of what it might mean, I want you to hear this clearly:
You’re not weak. You’re not broken. You’re allowed to get better.
Medication isn’t for everyone, and it’s not the only way forward. But if it is part of your journey, you deserve someone who will walk it with you — not ahead of you, not behind you, but beside you.
I’m here when you’re ready.