My relationship with anti-depressants

Disclaimer: This is just my experience with anti-depressants, I’m no expert, and everyone has a different experience with them.

I never wanted to start taking anti-depressants. I had been subjected too much to the toxic attitude that taking anti-depressants was unnecessary and lazy, a quick fix that doctors handed out willy nilly, that whatever the problem was I could just figure it out and fix it myself.

But after four years of emotional instability effecting every aspect of my life, I came to the conclusion that I was not going to fix this myself. I still didn’t even know what this was.

When I first went to the doctors, I was terrified. I saw two outcomes in my head:

1. They would tell me I was depressed and throw some anti-depressants at me. I would finally have an answer to what was wrong… but, I was depressed and somehow felt weak for taking medication.

2. They would tell me I was not depressed and there was absolutely nothing wrong with me, in which case this was all just me and I’d have to live with it.

I wasn’t going to win either way, but at least option 1 would be an answer, and option 1 is what happened. I left the doctors with my little prescription, and felt even worse than I had before.

Of course, I knew taking medication did not make you weak, I knew it was totally okay to be taking anti-depressants. You wouldn’t feel like a useless person if you took antibiotics for an infection, but there was that little part of me telling me I shouldn’t take them. Because the last thing your depression wants you to do is take anti-depressants.

Luckily, I am far too anxious to defy a doctor, so I did what I was told and took them properly, and thank God I did. I was ready for the side effects — of which there were very little, other than disturbed sleep which lasted a while — and knew that I’d feel worse for a couple of weeks before I felt better. But then, I did feel better and better and better.

I only wish I’d taken them sooner, because maybe if I wasn’t constantly on the verge of tears and having breakdowns over every assignment throughout semester, I’d have done a little better!

Now, I still believe that anti-depressants are not a solution to a problem, they’re an aid to help you find the solution so I was determined not to be on them for longer than necessary and to get myself to a counsellor in the meantime. However, finding a counsellor was a complete farce and they recommend that you stay on them for at least 6 months.

So, I became quite happy just taking my anti-depressants and carrying on. Here’s how I thought it felt: I could recognise when I was treading the surface of the water about to sink and drown in a low mood, but instead of sinking it was like I’d been handed a life boat to help me keep above the water.

Or, it was like I’d been on a rollercoaster with some big high’s where everything was great which quickly crashed down into some huge lows, and the anti-depressants just totally took me off the rollercoaster — because I also didn’t feel as big high’s any more, it was just plain sailing, content.

Fast forward a few months to the beginning of this Summer and I’m happily sailing along, I’m not worried too much about anything — universities going okay, I don’t have a lot of money but it will work out, etc. This is where I start to get a bit of a problem.

Suddenly, we’re in the middle of Summer and my grades for the semester were okay, I have no money to pay for rent and no job in sight. Panic ensues! But still I don’t feel as panicked as I maybe should have. I’d gotten complacent, I hadn’t tried to change anything while on medication, I’d buried my head in the sand. It took a moment of hitting rock bottom for me to realise that I can’t carry on just ignorantly sailing along and I actually have to make some lifestyle changes instead of relying on medication.

I went to the doctors to start decreasing my dosage and weaning off the anti-depressants, I made a budget plan and sorted out my finances — accepting the fact that I would just have to struggle through the mess I made for a while — I found a job, and I started eating healthier. We’re now nearing the end of Summer, my money situation is sorted and I still have my job, I’m a stone lighter and I am no longer taking anti-depressants and I’m the happiest and most positive I’ve ever been.

The point of all my ridiculous metaphors and rambling, is that if you’re stuck at the bottom of this dark hole, I believe that anti-depressants is the rope that helps you climb out, but then you don’t need the rope anymore and you’re free to make the most of the world around you. (I realise that was another metaphor, I’m sorry.)

People say all the time, “Oh you don’t need to take anti-depressants, just go to the gym! Eat better! Get out of bed and go for a walk!” And whatever else. Oh wow, I never thought of those things, of course! I am cured! I know exactly what it is I need to do, but I simply cannot make myself, and that makes me feel worse. Anti-depressants bring you up out of that dark place so you can start implementing those kind of things and help yourself.

There is nothing wrong with taking anti-depressants, they made me feel better. But more importantly, they helped me help myself. And that’s the point.