Beyond the Prescription
Wallpaper* Magazine [Pinterest]
Unveiling the Complexities of Teenage Birth Control.
I believe I was around 16 years old when I first started taking birth control pills. My reasons for wanting to take them were quite varied. Looking back, you might wonder why a lesbian would consider taking birth control pills. But back then, I wasn't entirely sure about my sexuality, and I wanted to be prepared for any situation. Additionally, I suffered from really painful period cramps and wanted relief from that agony. However, I can't help but wonder about the connection between birth control pills and my mental health. Could there have been other options? I do believe that the way I was prescribed the pill wasn't entirely right.
Here's how it went down: I visited the gynecologist, and she asked me, "Do you have a boyfriend? Are you sexually active?" I replied with a hesitant "no," but I mentioned that I was considering having sex soon and had severe period cramps. Without much discussion, my gynecologist said, "Well, I can prescribe you birth control pills to help with your cramps, and it'll provide protection if you do have sex." Before I knew it, I found myself at the pharmacy, clutching that little paper. "Do you have a prescription?" the pharmacist inquired. I handed it over, and she handed me that tiny package of birth control pills, saying, "Side effects might include headaches and nausea. Take one pill daily at the same time. Thanks, and have a nice day."
There I stood, feeling a little more grown-up for some reason. I had this pill that seemed like a rite of passage for women. I thought, "I'm not a child anymore." I almost idolized that pill. But sometimes, I forgot to take it. I'd turn to my friend and ask, "What should I do?" She'd casually reply, "I think you just take two then." So, every now and then, I'd take two. Looking back, I feel a bit ashamed. Why did I treat my body this way? During my youth, I struggled with my mental health, battling depression. I can't help but wonder if the birth control pill played a part in it. Now, I think it probably wasn't necessary for me to take it.
I wasn't as certain about wanting to have sex as I had conveyed to my gynecologist. After all, I was already aware of my lesbian identity back then. This isn't just a story about contraception; it's also about me navigating my sexuality. I felt pressured to fit in, to be part of the conversation around sex that everyone seemed to be having. I thought sex was primarily about penetration and wasn't aware of its deeper emotional aspects. I believed taking the birth control pill would somehow change me, but it didn't. In fact, it led me to situations my body clearly didn't want to be in.
So, what I'm trying to figure out is who should take responsibility for educating young adults about birth control pills, and why did I feel such pressure to take it? What went wrong, and how can we fix it? I started looking into Mary Romeo's idea of family in the context of institutions and how it affects teenagers while growing up. Romeo argues, "When school funding becomes tied to student performance measured through standardized tests, teachers focus their time on teaching to pass the exam rather than sparking students' creativity, developing a love for reading, or encouraging innovative thinking" (Romeo, 36).
Sometimes, it felt like both my mother and I were too focused on my grades, leaving no room for other discussions. I wasn't doing well at school, likely due to my undiagnosed ADHD (since there were no resources for individualized support within the German public school system I attended). But how did we go from birth control pills to the institution of schools? Well, it's all interconnected. Schools prioritize students with good grades, and I could feel that teachers and the school director didn't care much for me. Could that have been because I wasn't contributing to the school's funding? It would have been nice to know this earlier because it severely impacted my self-confidence.
Innovative thinking was necessary to reevaluate my sexuality in a world where I knew no one in a lesbian relationship. Taking the birth control pill was just another attempt to fit into a system that couldn't erase my identity, and it took a toll on my mental health. According to a study, "women (and nonbinary people) who began using contraceptive pills as teenagers had a 130 percent higher incidence of symptoms of depression, while the corresponding increase among adult users was 92 percent." I began therapy shortly after starting birth control; is there a link?
I want to clarify that I'm not trying to dissuade anyone from using birth control pills. They are essential for preventing unplanned pregnancies among young adults. However, in my case, with better sex education in schools and a deeper understanding of my body's signals, I might have realized that my body always said "no" when in a sexual situation with a man. Listening to your body is crucial, and from that, I could have recognized that I didn't want to engage in sexual activities with men. As for my period cramps, I'm still exploring ways to manage them, which also requires research. I've heard that using marijuana might help with the pain.
In conclusion, we shouldn't have to sacrifice our mental health during our teenage years for the sake of birth control. Simply dismissing it without scientific investigation isn't the answer. As one study found, "Women who used combined contraceptive pills were at greater risk of developing depression than women who did not, increasing the risk by 73 percent during the first two years of use" (Craig, news-medical.net).
Sources
https://neurosciencenews.com/depression-contraceptive-pills-23451/#:~:text=According%20to%20the%20study%2C%20women,adult%20users%20was%2092%20percent.
https://www.news-medical.net/news/20230612/Womens-use-of-contraceptive-pills-linked-to-greater-risk-of-depression.aspx
