The Trouble With Antidepressants

You might be thinking this is going to be one of those blogs talking about the evils of psychiatric medications. Well you’re wrong. This is, however; going to be about the evils of making yourself better. Let’s get started.

I’ve been on antidepressants for a few years now. And even after the bad reactions I’ve had to some of them, the mental, emotional, and physical weakness I’ve been lead to, and the personal trials these effects have lead to, I can honestly say my life is better on them then off.

Many people will tell you that suicidal thoughts is an unacceptable side effect of antidepressants. I’m going to assume right now that those people haven’t really experienced what it means to be suicidal, because guess what honey, I already have suicidal thoughts. It’s not a new thing in my life that these pills are suddenly causing. True some medications will increase these thoughts and now you’re going, “See! It’s bad for you!”, but let me let you in on something a little private.

When you are finally in a place where you are ready to get help, to admit that you can’t do this on your own and maybe the people around you are right and you do need to keep on living because somehow mortality is worth it; you walk into that Doctor/Psychiatrist office ready to make the deal that if for any reason these pills make you want to kill yourself more than you wanted to before then you will STOP taking them and call someone. Anyone will do. Your medical specialist who prescribed them to you would be a great person to call, but some times they aren’t working and you don’t want to disturb them in their private lives. So literally anyone else will be appropriate. You talk to that person until the feeling passes and you are able to cope on your own.

That doesn’t mean it will be easy. That doesn’t mean you’ll be able to do this on your own. It means that getting help is possible, and the only way to make it is with someone standing beside you.

I know people who have all the best intentions in the world, who think that somehow I’m supposed to be able to over come the chemical imbalance going on in my head all on my own without any help. Personally I think that’s like asking someone with a tumor in their head to get better without surgery.

I am aware that there are a staggering amount of cases of people on psych-meds who go off the deep end and murder people. I know that is a true set of facts. But because those of us who aren’t killing people because we are on our meds doesn’t ever make it into the news, it seems like there is little to no benefit to being on them.

Before I started taking antidepressants the main symptom I exhibited was uncontrollable rage.

Let that sink in.

There are people I know who think I am super nice and sweet and caring. My father is one of those people. I think they are all delusional. From my perspective every single day was a battle to not kill someone. People in murder trials talk about how they saw red when they flew off the handle and killed that person. I see black. I practically black out except for the all consuming anger moving my body and the teeny-tiny voice in the back of my mind crying out that I don’t want to do this. The only thing that has stopped me from killing anyone else is my knowledge of the gospel of Jesus Christ. That’s it. That’s the only thing. The thought of being sent to jail, nothing, because we make the prospect of going to jail much nicer than the prospect of being homeless. The thought that I might be killed in return for that action, that’s fine, because I want to die anyway. The idea that these fellow humans might have people who care about them, I couldn’t care less, honestly if they aren’t directly involved with me or mine I do not have the mental or emotional capacity to care about them.

But the thought that I will not get to live eternity with the two people in existence who love me no matter what I do because I couldn’t make myself follow the commandments set forth for me, that stops me.

Just because I’m able to stop doesn’t mean that I like living my life constantly angry. Because I am able to stop myself doesn’t mean that I like using all that energy and then having to go cry in my room for hours after having fun because I’m completely spent. I did not like my life that way. I did try to kill myself. I’ve contemplated suicide so many times that it’s moved on from just thoughts to a state of being. I am suicidal. I have a death wish. There are days I forget to take my medication, and because I’m still being affected by them, I don’t go straight to anger, I go to crippling agony. I just want it to stop. I just don’t want to live any more. I just don’t want to have to listen to myself making excuses of why I need to keep going.

There is a very long list of reasons why it would be better to be dead and a very small list of reasons why it is better to be alive.

Right now my reason to be alive is so that my best friend has someone to watch her home and pets while she and her husband are on their first wedding anniversary vacation. When that is done, the next reason to be alive is to play the next Mass Effect game. I realize that’s a silly reason to stay alive, but apparently it’s the silly reasons that are easiest to cling to.

I was to the point for a while while I was dealing with the heartache of my husband not wanting me anymore that I had to give my medication to my father to hold and give to me like I was one of his methadone patients. One of the side effects of taking all of this particular antidepressant at once is death. So of course I’ve contemplated overdosing on it.

I’ve managed to move one from that place, but the point is this: When you are on antidepressants it is your duty to remain honor bound to that promise you made when you started taking them. It is your duty to stop taking them if they hurt you more. It is your duty to hand them over to someone you trust when you consider abusing them. And it is your duty to live the best way you can.

And that’s the real trouble with antidepressants.


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