This blog was first pubished on Mad in America on November 7th 2024
When I first decided to seek help from a doctor, I had no idea what I was getting myself into or how difficult it would later be to break free from the cocktail of medications. At the back of my mind, I believed antidepressants would stabilize my disturbed nervous system. At that time (and unfortunately still in Poland), psychiatry held the belief that people with personality disorders had a dysregulated hormonal balance, which, as a budding neuroscientist, made a lot of sense to me.
The beginning of the spiral
The first drug, paroxetine, turned out to be a poor fit due to unbearable drowsiness. After several months, the doctor advised me to stop taking it abruptly. In 2009, no one had heard of tapering. When withdrawal symptoms surfaced weeks later, I returned to the doctor, alarmed. The process of finding the right medication took some time, but I eventually ended up with sertraline, which, despite numerous side effects, I tolerated the best.
Unfortunately, it was a fragile improvement. When I first started taking sertraline, I experienced serotonin syndrome (fever, photophobia, loss of appetite, insomnia, tremors), and once the medication took full effect, I entered a hypomanic state. This state made me ignore all the signals that something was wrong. For the next several years, I lived in an artificially heightened mood, doing reckless things without regard for consequences. Despite voicing my concerns to the doctor, he insisted that this was how healthy people without depression or anxiety functioned, which only reinforced my belief that the medication was helping.
Side effects
Over time, side effects began piling up: weight gain, sexual dysfunction, and severe sweating. I also developed food intolerance and persistent drowsiness. Beyond the physical symptoms, my mental state was deteriorating. The elevated mood slowly shifted to apathy, and my curiosity about the world morphed into increasing anhedonia. Memory issues also emerged, although I initially didn’t link them to the medication. I felt my personality changing—I was becoming less of a human and more like a robot.
The side effects grew stronger, and I was given more diagnoses (treatment-resistant depression, social phobia, mild cognitive impairment, avoidant personality disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder) and prescribed more medications. At one point, I was taking piracetam and memantine, which are used to treat cognitive disorders in people with dementia and Alzheimer’s. It was an endless spiral that had started with paroxetine.
Who am I without medication?
The degeneration process took several years, until I reached a point where I started to wonder who I would be without the medication. I constantly felt that my diminishing personality was a result of taking these drugs. Persistent sexual dysfunctions were another crucial factor that became evident whenever I tried to form an intimate relationship. Not only were there technical issues that complicated physical intimacy, but I also felt a loss of higher feelings like romance, empathy, and care. I was becoming increasingly cold, cynical, calculated, and empty. The question in my mind kept growing louder—was this me, or was it the medication?
Unfortunately, every attempt to quit the medication failed after a few months. Whenever withdrawal symptoms appeared, I’d return to the doctor, who would unhesitatingly claim it was a relapse of depression/anxiety and restart treatment.
A dead end
With time, physical side effects also intensified: I gained a lot of weight, developed unexplained insulin resistance, and the drowsiness worsened to the point that I couldn’t work or function in any meaningful way. I felt that my body could no longer tolerate these drugs.
When I voiced my objections to doctors, I was dismissed and told I had more “mental illnesses.” I felt alone and misunderstood. Even my closest family leaned toward the doctors’ opinions, ignoring my cries for help.
Thankfully, I found Surviving Antidepressants, where I read many stories similar to mine. I had no illusions left—what I was experiencing was not a relapse of an “illness” but a withdrawal syndrome. The realization of what lay ahead was terrifying, but I sensed deep inside that it was the only way to regain my health and life.
With immense pain and difficulty, I decided to quit the medication. Unfortunately, when I did, my condition deteriorated even further. I experienced what’s known as “protracted withdrawal” (or as I would now describe it, iatrogenic neurological dysfunction of the central nervous system) and post-SSRI sexual dysfunction (PSSD).
Was it worth it?
The following six years were a battle for survival with persistent suicidal thoughts, including one attempt. For more than half of that time, I lived with a feeling of emptiness, alienation, and dissociation. I lost friends, family, and my job. I was entirely alone in a state that’s hard to describe.
Fortunately, I managed to survive the worst, and as I decided to radically take care of my health and do everything I could for my body to recover, things started to improve year by year. Thanks to this experience, I learned a lot about myself. I feel stronger than ever, and I use the empathy I regained to support those who are struggling with the same issues.
Though the recovery process is challenging and painful, the opportunity to rebuild yourself and get to know yourself from a new perspective is a unique experience.
I’ve never taken care of myself as much as I do now. I’ve introduced many healthy habits, which have not only helped me recover from the effects of the medication but also improved my overall health.
To all those grappling with the tough decision of stopping medication: there’s nothing more valuable than regaining yourself. The only way to achieve this is with a sober, non-chemically-altered nervous system.
I firmly believe that the foundation for recovering from drug-induced neurological disorders lies in taking care of your body and mind holistically. At least, this approach helped me and lifted me from a place where I could barely function.
Even though it might seem like the suffering will never cease, this is far from the truth. The further away from the drugs, the clearer and healthier the mind becomes.
Don’t hesitate to fight for yourself; on the other side of this suffering is a life full of emotions and joy. Although the healing process can sometimes be unfairly lengthy, once you begin to recover, the time you suffered will stop being as significant and painful.