Take one of these and call me in the morning… or one to two months.

Truth; my biggest fear is of loosing my mind. And that may stem from feeling mentally unstable for as long as I can recall. As a young girl I always felt awkward, out of place. At 10 yo when I was diagnosed insulin dependent diabetic, I had one more issue that made me different.

Through adolescence I struggled more, trying to sift through the whirlwind of emotions, seeking out ways to describe the turmoil, calling out for help through cutting (which is an impulse that I still confront from time to time as an adult), eventually landing me in a rehabilitation home for a week. I remember envying the girl down the hall who was there for anorexia. I wished I could have that issue. Little did I know at the time, that I would fight with a 1 year long bout of bulimia after the birth of my second child.

All that said, through much of this time – a couple of decades actually – I muddled my way through multiple antidepressants. At one point I suffered through the most intense withdrawals while switching medications. The doctor told me I didn’t need to wean off one before beginning the next, and against my better judgement formed from research, I complied. I remember the whirlwind of emotions that I felt on occasion, turned into a tornado of thoughts, emotions and fears rampaging through my mind almost consistently. I became dizzy to the point of tunnel vision while walking down the street. I felt crippling anxiety. It was the most horrible feeling – emotionally – that I had ever experienced, and it lasted almost a week until I demanded from my doctor a dose to wean off the medication.

I believe one major problem people experience with antidepressants, why some people are quick to claim they do not work,  is that once a medication begins to do its job, the taker quits taking it. Then lo and behold the symptoms return. I was guilty of this myself. I was conflicted with not knowing whether my feelings were a result of the medication or of my true personality. Even with the medication, I felt myself experiencing the ups and downs which I now contribute to being mildly bipolar. Now was this really me, or a side effect of the medication – a question a would ask myself for years while on different medications.

About 4 years ago my husband discovered I was taking antidepressants – something I was not intentionally hiding from him, but had not exactly been chatty about. The possible side effects worried him. Out of love and respect for him and my own curiosity, I weaned off them completely. What I discovered was a freedom I had never anticipated. Not freedom from the ups and downs or the seemingly irrational sadness (those feeling still occurred to varying degrees), but the freedom of knowing these thoughts and feelings were 100% me. Every blank stare out the window while trying to drag myself out of bed, every spastic dance with the thrill of being out in the rain, every momentary lapse into flat affect or irrational anxiety about something trivial; it was all me.

In the past few years, I have come to respect these challenges. I am honest with my husband when I am having a rough few days, and allow myself some time to partake in simple things I enjoy like coloring with the kids or writing a blog. Oh wow, writing has been so cathartic! I love the highs – the spurts of energy that have me racing around the house cleaning, sprinting at full tilt til I am bent over wheezing in exhaustion. Most importantly, I have learned to be more patient with myself.

I understand the severity of some people’s mental infirmity requires medication, but I am unbelievably grateful to discover that I do not need them anymore.