“You’ll always be on medication for depression.”

Forever is a mighty long time, but at one time in the past, both my psychiatrist and therapist told me that I’d be on antidepressants forever. Then, years later, right on the heels of his retirement, my psychiatrist thought that I had improved so much that I’d be able to manage the depression in alternative ways, and without medicine.

“You’ll always be on medication for depression.”

When I first began medication for depression, I was in my early 30s. Although I’d been seen by various doctors, psychiatrists, and therapists before for depression, I wasn’t formally given any medication until the depression became too much for me to handle. Of course, it was already unbearable enough, but by the time I was in my early 30s, I was on the verge of suicide, and I was in a very bad mental state.

During that time, I had just gone through horrific spiritual trauma I’d suffered at the hands of congregants in a church. My spiritual walk at that time was all that I had, and when that went down the drain, so did my life. Although I know better now, I thought that losing the church at that time was the equivalence of losing God. Thankfully, this was not and was never the case. Yet, the depression I suffered was so severe, I couldn’t see the any Light for all the darkness that surrounded me.

When I first tried getting medication for depression, I’d seen a physician’s assistant – someone who worked very closely with my regular doctor. He’d taken note that I was in a bad mental state … that I always seemed gloomy and dull. Every time he saw me, he always suggested that I quit my job at the time. He believed I was slowly deteriorating because of it because I was constantly suffering from laryngitis, frequently had bouts of high blood pressure, and was obviously overworked and overstressed to say the least.

Yet, this physician’s assistant didn’t know my life story and had absolutely no clue that I’d been a longtime sufferer of depression. On one visit he asked me if I wanted something to lift my spirits, and feeling in a state of desperation, I said “yes”. He had no clue that I was in a state of suicidal ideation. Nothing on the surface seemed to even give that clue away. I masked everything, if not a lot, and I smiled my way through a lot of internal pain. As far as anyone was concerned, I was doing great.

For a starter, I was first given Effexor XR, and for the first few days, I felt so much better. I didn’t realize how down in the dumps I was before then. In fact, I thought depression was just a regular way of life since I’d battled with it from as far back as I could remember in childhood. For about two months, the Effexor XR was a life-savior, but the side-effects were a bit extreme for me. My happiness faded off when I couldn’t get through the extreme nauseousness. I became so sick, that I begged the doctor to find me another remedy.

Childhood Experiences

I first recognized I could “feel” as an infant. I was self-aware at the age of at least nine months old that I was a person in a physical body, and I was aware of my existence. Although my awareness of emotions was vague, for some reason I knew sadness and happiness, and I’ve never been quite able to understand exactly why. This strong feeling was later be solidified by my father when he told me how expressive I was as an infant.

By age four, I recognized that I was in a constantly sad state. I was sad all the time and didn’t feel like I quite fit into the scheme of life. I recognized that I was different, and it was obvious that I was different to everyone around me. By the time I was nine and had suffered a sexual assault, I recognized that I didn’t want to live. I even relished in suicidal ideation. It was easier to see myself not in this world than to want to continue to live in it. Since suicide was spiritually frowned upon because of the condemnation of eternal hell fire, I fell further into a depressive and dissociative stated as an escape.

I’ll never forget the time a relative asked in Sunday school if there was anyone not happy. I was 9 or 10 at the time. Looking back, this was such an odd question to ask a group of children under 12, but I firmly remember responding to the question by raising my hand. At that time, I thought I’d finally found that moment that I could connect with someone who’d understand me. Although I think this relative did try to reach me, she just didn’t know how. Something about my reaction not only astonished her, it bothered her. She told my parents that I was much too deep a person for my age.

When I’d spend time at this relative’s home with my cousins, I’d be the only child who wouldn’t go off to play with anyone. I didn’t like being around groups of people. I was socially awkward and never knew quite what to say, and matters would be worse when I’d go mute. Instead, I’d choose to do things alone by staying behind in the den. I’d read through all of my relative’s books and magazines, or I’d spend time in the kitchen helping her do things. After some time, my relative recognized that I was simply a different, often unhappy child, and to make me more comfortable, she’d make sure to have newer copies of magazines and books on hand just for me.

Needless to say, I struggled with depression a great deal during my childhood and youth. Even my dad took notice of my sadness and attempted to get me help. By the time I was in college, I was ready to throw in the towel on life and had made an attempt to take myself out of the earthly realm. I failed when a person from a suicide hotline I was talking to reached out to the college campus to locate me. Because I’d given the suicide hotline person my first name, it didn’t take too long for campus police and dorm mother to find me. That was the start of getting some help, even if shaky and scattered, nonetheless.

Adulthood Battles

Although I got clinical and medical help at that time, I was never put on any medication for long periods until I was in my 30s. By this time, I’d been clinically diagnosed with dysthymia, clinical depression, double depression, and generalized anxiety. Oddly, nothing about having Asperger’s Syndrome (a form of Autism) or selective mutism coincided with my having depression. So the therapist never seemed to make the connection at the time regarding my many life struggles. Over the years, I’ve had to make those connections as I did the internal work to gain healing for myself.

Nevertheless, after I began feeling so much better – like an even newer version of myself – after working through a lot of issues and finally getting regulated to an antidepressant that finally gave me some peace (Wellbutrin), I asked both the therapist and the psychiatrist at varying times when I’d ever get off of medication. I knew I didn’t want to always be reliant on medication, but my hopes would be dashed when I’d receive an answer. The therapist gave an affirmative, “You’ll be on meds forever”. At one point, the psychiatrist even agreed.

However, after much thought and research and having me read books on topics regarding autism, highly sensitive persons, and introversion, the psychiatrist told me that there were other alternatives to antidepressants. He’d seen me come a long way, and had been the most help in regulating the medications for me. I’d been placed on so many different types of meds for depression that I lost count. Some were horrible for my system and had terrible side effects; while others were good enough but highly addictive. I didn’t want to be an addict. I just wanted to feel better about living. Yet, for that time being, I remained on meds.

A Realization for Change

Eventually, however, I reached a zenith of fatigue with the chaos of life in general. Suicidal ideation had come back, but this time around, I knew I wanted to live. I wanted to enjoy life. At the time, I was learning a lot about narcissistic abuse, and I was connected to some very destructive relational patterns too. Easy enough, I wanted out and began finding ways to sever ties with narcissistic people and environments.

I’d even come to feel fatigued with therapy. It didn’t help that the therapist was somewhat wishy-washy when it came to having connections with a narcissist who was in my life at the time. I actually watched as my connections to my therapist dwindled in favor of her trading out with the frenemy narcissist for time with me regarding therapy appointments. It was such a devastating betrayal during that time.

So much came together at a climatic time in my life that I finally just stopped everything. I stopped therapy, I stopped and cut off negative relationships, and I stopped my antidepressants and other medication. I even walked away from a long term career at the very height of when things were so good. I was so exhausted by it all, and I needed a change. I needed a complete restart.

Interestingly, a number of things happened after I halted the norm of my life. My life improved dramatically. Although I’ve slipped many times back into states of depression, I’d also still battle with varying levels of depression while still on antidepressants too. Yet, something in my life had to give, and it was then that I realized it was up to me to continue doing the work. A lot more work on myself needed to happen, and I had to get out of those states of dissociation to deal with it. The medication could only do so much. I really had to do the rest.

I would never advise anyone, and I do not advise anyone even in this writing, to stop taking antidepressants. This is about my life struggles. I needed to do what was best for me. I realized that medication could only do so much for me. I didn’t want to rely on it always. Although there have been times that I’ve felt that I jumped ahead of myself quite a bit when I found myself falling back into depressive states, I don’t regret the road I’ve taken. I only see this avenue as another powerful testament to my resilience and self-awareness.

I still have struggles now, but I’ve chosen to continue to work through each one. I’ve taken control of my healing in a way that works best for me. In turn, I’ve found other ways to deal, and there have been some deep occurrences of soul-level work that I needed to battle through. On some level, I’ve even battled spiritually and prayerfully to continue my healing. While medication can be helpful, I recognize my emotional shifts. I’ve simply taken proactive steps to counteract depressive episodes, and for me, that’s been incredibly empowering.

Healing is an ongoing process. It’s definitely not linear, and I’ve had ups and downs, various setbacks, and a lot of change and growth, and I’ve shown that I have the strength, insight, and tools to navigate my life and its struggles on my own terms. I’ve chosen to keep trusting myself spiritually because I know my mind and body better than anyone else. I simply could not accept being on medication all my life. It’s just not the path I wanted to continue to take, and for me, that’s okay.