The Last Antidepressant

(TW: Depression)

I’ve been taking antidepressants for two years.

And this week, I took my last one.

I’ve been trying to write this post for several days now. There were so many vague swirling emotions that mostly just led to sobbing in the bathroom at midnight on Monday night. But one has remained the strongest. Gratitude.

After almost two decades of living in a deteriorating, abusive home, my brain just couldn’t function properly. I am so grateful for my adopted mother and sister sitting me down and telling me it was time to get some outside help. Because there is no shame in reaching out for help in any way that is at your disposal. And I’m grateful that I was able to access the medication that I needed – I know that not everyone is in that position.

I can also now honestly say that I’m grateful for all the things that brought me to today. I went through hell for many years, and I put the people around me through it too. But in the midst of depression and PTSD I found deepened relationships, a unique perspective on life, and strength I never knew I could summon. And a desire to walk with others in empathy that I wouldn’t trade for anything.

It gets better. These were hollow words to me once, but some part of me believed them and kept going. I’m grateful that these words proved themselves. It never gets easy, my friends. But believe me when I say that while you feel at your darkest, you are still an irreplaceable light in this universe.

*Note: please do not ever stop taking medications without talking to your doctor. My psychiatrist gave me instructions for taking myself off antidepressants when I felt ready to try doing so. Stay safe 💛

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