CHANGE
My Psychiatrist Told Me There’s No Hope For Me
I went off my meds and learned to trust myself
Recently I saw my psychiatrist for my six month check in. We usually spend a little time talking and then she adjusts my medications if needed. She was surprised when I told her I quit taking my anti-depressants and was finally feeling ok. What happened next was so bizarre to me that I’m still processing it.
Before I go on I’d like to provide a little disclaimer here. I have struggled with very minor depression and anxiety. Many forms of mental illness are indeed issues with brain chemistry and must be treated with medication. This story is my own. I have no medical training nor do I claim any. These are my own opinions on my own mental health. I have no judgments around medications and/or other mental health treatments. One size does not fit all. You do you.
I’ve been on and off anti-depressants my entire adult life for mild, run of the mill depression and anxiety. I started taking them in my early 20s after a painful break up, getting kicked out of school and being forced to move back home. A trifecta that would probably make anyone want to take drugs. The first few times I was on medication, it was only for a year or two. Just enough time for me to get stable and to feel like I no longer needed the pills to get out of bed.
My latest depressive episode happened eight years ago when my mother died very suddenly. It was an extremely traumatic experience for me. At the time, I was also dealing with family issues and I had recently quit a job to try to be a full time artist. I had isolated myself and fell into the worst depression yet. I contacted my doctor and was put on a low dose medication again. This time, I stayed on it a lot longer than previous times. I even contacted a psychiatrist for a “real” diagnosis. Congratulations, you DO have depression and anxiety!
This time around, I decided to put a lot more energy into my own mental health. I’ve invested time and energy into myself by learning what my specific needs are in terms of self care and expectations. I’ve read books on depression. I attended an online support group for a while. And I finally found a therapist and treatment modality that actually worked for me.
By April of this year, I had been seeing my therapist for about 18 months. She and I worked on my past traumas and how they still affect me. I was finally able to see things with a lot more clarity. I was learning tools to help me stop the depression spiral before it went too deep, allowing me to consider a life beyond medication.
Around this same time, I read a book called “Lost Connections” by Johann Hari. I can not recommend this book enough for anyone who is suffering from depression and who feels like there has to be more to it than brain chemicals. In the book, the author, who also struggles with depression, explores all the other possible reasons for depression in today’s world. Suggesting perhaps, that depression is not caused exclusively by faulty brain chemistry and calling out how science has yet to explain the physiological reasons for depression. The author proposes that depression may have nothing to do with low serotonin and dopamine, the two hormones that most anti-depressants work with.
“Lost Connections” struck me like a ton of bricks. As I was growing up, I had some pretty shitty things happen in my life. As we all do. How I dealt with those situations, as well as the people around me, helped create my mental issues today. Hari describes how in today’s society, we’ve lost our community and connection. We’ve learned to value productivity and money over joy and love, connection and community. He examines how many people who take anti-depressants find they must continually increase their dosage in order to get any relief. This has always been something that bothered me about my own treatment. Sometimes I would actually lie to my own psychiatrist so she wouldn’t increase my dosage. It never felt good.
I knew in my heart that my issues were more than brain chemistry. So I decided to stop taking my anti-depressant. What I should have done is contact my doctor and gotten help to slowly taper off the meds. These medications are seriously strong chemicals, which I learned very quickly by quitting cold turkey. I was in physical and mental pain for two weeks. My body was going through withdrawals like a junkie off smack. Ok, a little hyperbole there. I had aches and pains and a slight fever. I was nauseous. I was manic. I couldn’t sit still. I was tired from my body’s constant movement. I was so uncomfortable I did end up at my doctor’s office. She prescribed another low dose antidepressant but I politely declined. After another week of withdrawal, my body eventually started to adjusted.
I never contacted my psychiatrist to let her know what I was doing. So when my six month appointment came around, I felt a little anxious about it. I reminded myself that she is my doctor and wants whatever is best for me. I had all the information I needed in order to have a great conversation with her. I walked in and told her I had stopped taking the pills. She seemed surprised but open to hearing my thoughts. I explained how I felt I had been on them for too long, that with my therapy I have been feeling a lot better. I told her how much I’ve been appreciating having normal highs and lows again instead of the blunting that anti-depressants can cause.
She listened to all of this and then said “Well, let me tell you the treatment protocol and what I recommend.”
She then proceeded to explain that once a person has more than three depressive episodes, they are statistically more likely to have another one. Sure, makes sense. At this point they recommend that the patient goes on an anti-depressant for the rest of their lives. (Hmm. . . ok?) Then she said that if the patient goes off of the meds again and has another depressive episode (which they will, because… statistics), then at that point there is absolutely nothing that anyone can do for them.
“There is nothing that anyone can do for you.”
Fear raced through my heart. My shades of gray situation became black and white all of a sudden. ‘Look, you’re gonna get depressed again and if you’re not on pills, you’re screwed and you will be depressed for the rest of your natural born life.’ No, these weren’t her exact words, but they might have well been. Part of my brain said “OMG, you have to go back on pills. You’re doomed if you don’t!” The other part was like, “Go fuck yourself with that bullshit! There’s ‘nothing’ that can be done? What about therapy? Or alternative therapies? New age woo woo crap? Nothing?!”
I became pissed off. I thought how ridiculously irresponsible it is to tell a mental health patient something like this. And then to add, “I’m not trying to scare you.” (Um, no I think you are.) She then proceeded to tell me that studies show that a brisk 30 minute walk has been shown to be just as effective as anti-depressants. WHAT?! Which is it? Am I fucked or do I just need to take a walk?
The mental health system is fucked up. That’s nothing new. But it smacked me right in the face that day.
Another realization smacked me in the face. That I had a choice. I knew in my heart and mind that going off the medication was the absolute correct choice for me at that time. I was finally in a stable place. I was finally able to face those icky feelings when they bubbled up, and I was, and am, able to face them with curiosity and kindness. The very painful work I had been doing in therapy was paying off. I was feeling confident and courageous.
In all honesty, there are moments when I think I need to go back on the anti-depressants, like when I’m having a particularly hard day or when I start to spiral in my feelings. These moments do happen. I’m not “cured”; whatever that means. But I have the tools now to stay in those moments and be curious and face them with kindness. I know I’m going to be ok. I am hopeful that I will be able to stay in this place.
Anti-depressants aren’t the bad guys. My hope for anyone else that is struggling with depression and anxiety is that you too can find the right treatments to get you into a place where you no longer feel hopeless. You too can then feel free to tell people to fuck off when they suggest otherwise.
© Jen Boes 2021
