Use the Umbrella
I started taking Prozac for postpartum depression when my son was an infant, eight years ago. My sister, Kayla, also had the same experience so a couple years into my treatment I asked her, “how long were you on it for? How did you know it was time to stop?”
She shrugged and said, “I don’t know, it just felt like it was ‘time’, ya know?”
No, I did not know, so I figured it wasn’t “time” yet and I should keep taking it.
One year later, I was feeling great. I was sleeping well, exercising regularly, managing my stress and anxiety, so I figured this is what it must feel like when it’s “time”. I called my doctor, she told me how to taper, and I started the process.
A little over a week into tapering my head was spinning like I just got off a merry-go-round. The dizziness and the fogginess were so scary to me. I thought, “Maybe I need this medication? Am I addicted? Is that even possible? Did my body get used to not making its own serotonin and now it doesn’t know what the hell to do? Maybe it’ll take time to readjust.”
Time. There was that word again. Being a working mom, I don’t have a lot of time to dedicate to myself and whatever detox process I needed to do to come off Prozac. So, maybe it wasn’t time. I decided to keep taking it and everything resumed to my version of normal.
Another year goes by and I decide it was “time” again. I talked to my doctor and set up a slower tapering plan. I also started taking omega-3 and probiotics because I read somewhere that they would help (who knows if it’s true). I upped my water intake and started doing daily walks. It was time.
I made it 3 weeks into the tapering process before a felt the ice cold vice of anxiety grip my heart. I knew side effects of tapering were highly likely, but after spending a few years in psychotherapy working through panic disorder, anxiety is not something I fuck with.
My other sister, Emmie, called. “How’s the tapering going?” she asked.
“Not good today,” I sighed, “I’m feeling a lot of anxiety and it’s scaring me.”
“Why are you coming off of your medication Linds?”
“It just felt like time,” I said flatly.
“What does that mean? Why are you coming off it if it’s working?” she was puzzled.
“I never planned to be on it long-term and the stigma around it I guess.”
She started crying. Emmie has long struggled with anxiety and panic attacks, but because of her epilepsy, she has been unable to find a medication that helps her.
Emmie’s close friend, who suffered deeply from mental health issues, took his own life. Through her tears, Emmie told me about the goodbye letter her friend wrote before he took his life. He wrote about how tired he was of trying to get the right medication to work for him, of the trial and the error, the changes in brands, combinations, doses, strategy. Emmie told me how lucky I am to have easily found something that works for me and makes me feel good. How it’s not always that easy.
“I would give anything for that Linds. I’ve been trying to feel better for years. I’ve spent thousands of dollars on psychiatrists, scans, bloodwork, doctor’s appointments, I’ve tried so many different medications. Everything makes me feel worse. You are so lucky. Don’t stop because of the stigma that used to be around antidepressants. There’s no stigma anymore. Everyone is on something and if they aren’t, then they are drinking or smoking, or doing something else to feel good.”
She is right. Why am I placing this decision on what other people think? Who even are these “other people” in my mind? I have a small circle that I have cultivated over the years. The people in my circle love me and care for me. Those people also have their own truckloads of bullshit to deal with. They don’t care if I’m using a medication to help me manage my anxiety.
I took Kayla’s experience and tried to make it my own. She probably doesn’t even remember the conversation we had all those years ago, but I’ve been holding onto it as a goal post all this time.
The release I felt after my conversation with Emmie was palpable. I don’t have to hold myself to these arbitrary standards anymore. I can take each day as it comes and take my meds.
As Glennon Doyle said in her book Untamed, “Going off meds because you feel better is like standing in a torrential rainstorm holding a trusty umbrella that is keeping you toasty and dry and thinking: Wow. I’m so dry. It’s probably time to get rid of this silly umbrella. Stay dry and alive.”