It’s been 15 months now since I was weaned from the anti-depressants, and good god I had no idea. No clinician could tell me what to expect either. After that many years, no one wants to tell a “mental patient” with a history of debilitating, chronic major depression, that the happy pills might have damaged serotonin production permanently. I can either go back on them and pay the useless doctors hundreds of dollars for expensive pills that make me suicidal and crazy, or deal with a reality that is just a little more raw then I was used to already.
The happy pills don’t make you happy. They just distract you and make everything fuzzy so you don’t notice or really care. For those of us with histories of severe abuse, I would argue that they also make you extra vulnerable to additional abuse. Ha. Silly really. It’s like walking out of the house with a big “victim” sign on you- the creepy ones find you right away and take what they can. If you aren’t really careful (even if you are), you find them too. People seek out what they know, no matter how horrific it is. One more reason to never get married.
I found things that make me happy, and I know all the healthy things I need to do to stay that way. Except for certain anniversaries, and times of the year, times of the month, unexpected emotional or physical strain, sleep problems, money stress, moving, job changes, or physical illness, I am on top of it! Luckily I have no shame about crying anywhere- I meet really interesting people that way.
Respect- Aretha Franklin
N/A OK- USS
What Happens Tomorrow- Duran Duran