Sage Green Nail Polish
March 24th, 2025
Photo: Erin Lee
Writer: Addie Siembieda
Editor: Leighton Gray
The people in my life helped me destigmatize my mental health problems and my medication. There’s no shame in asking for help and owning the things that make us feel better.
I was a junior in high school when I was diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), a severe form of Premenstrual Syndrome that causes a serotonin deficiency. For eight months, I struggled with depressive lows that went away after a few days, only to return a month later.
I was quick to dismiss my symptoms as just PMS, convinced I was simply overreacting. Deep down, I knew something was wrong with me, but I had no idea how to fix it — or who to turn to for help.
One night, after suffering a season-ending sports injury, I broke down to my dad. Looking my dad in the eye and telling him the full extent of my mental health problems was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I braced myself for fear in his eyes, maybe even disappointment. Instead, he held me tight, called my doctor, and reassured me: ‘‘We will find a way to improve this’’.
A few doctor's visits later, I was prescribed 25 mg of Zoloft. The pill was sage green, no bigger than a grain of rice, and had a faintly sweet taste when I swallowed it. By the time my next cycle came around, I could already feel the difference. For the first time in almost a year, I had gone a full month without a depressive thought.
I only told a few close friends that I was on medication. I didn’t expect our dynamic to change dramatically, but I couldn’t shake the fear that they would see me as unstable or dependent on my pills. Whenever they asked how I was doing, I kept it simple: I feel a lot better. And I like the color of the pill.
Most of my friends only cared that I was feeling better, but one friend, in particular, noticed how much I fixated on the color of my medication. Whenever I’d get the tiniest bit upset, whether it was about my math test next period or the subpar snack selection at the cafe, he would pull up the color sage green on his phone, say nothing, and show it to me. He even kept a screenshot saved in his camera, just to make me smile. At first, we both laughed every time he did it. It felt ridiculous to act like the color alone was what made my medication work, just as much as the chemical formula itself. But as time went on, I realized that every time he flashed his sage green screenshot, my day genuinely became a little bit better. I had been so afraid of being judged for taking medication, that I never expected my friends to not only accept it — but embrace it.
A few months after I’d started taking Zoloft, my mom and I went to the nail salon. I was looking for a bright spring color and was instantly drawn to the sage green bottle on the wall. I thought back to my friend, what the color had come to represent, and how much I genuinely loved that shade of green. I picked up the bottle and got it painted on my nails.
Over the following months, sage green became more and more present in my life. I bought sage green workout clothes, sunglasses, and a phone case. I always gravitated toward the color without even thinking.
Sage green came to symbolize more than just the color of my medication; it was a symbol of comfort and of my strength in asking for help.
I have taken antidepressants every night since I was 16, and I’m not ashamed to say that. The people in my life helped me destigmatize my mental health problems and my medication. There’s no shame in asking for help and owning the things that make us feel better.
