Please note that I shared my story for informational purposes only to help others. If you’re experiencing mental health challenges or want to taper off medication, please seek advice from your doctor and/or a mental health professional.
Imagine you’re lying down… tied to a railway track. You start to feel vibrations in the ties and a hum on the rails that can mean only one thing… a coming train. As it rounds the corner, you hear the whistle scream, warning you to jump… or else! But you can’t.
As the scenario unfolds, your breathing shallows while your heart rate spikes. You feel increasingly weak, dizzy, sweaty, and/or nauseated. You quickly move from feeling agitated to being terrified you’ll die… and then maybe even wishing you would, so the overwhelming physical and emotional sensations would stop.
After what could be minutes or hours, the train roars over you; the danger is past. But in its place comes the fear of what will happen next time you’re tied to a track, or must give a speech, or take an exam, or feel uncomfortable, insecure, or unworthy. That’s anxiety’s gift that keeps on giving… the continual fear of fear itself.
My panic attacks started when I entered puberty… when my hormones raged for the first time. My second bout was triggered again by a hormonal imbalance after the birth of my first daughter. That time, it was more serious and involved depression as well. To make a long story short, I started thinking, “What if I hurt my daughter?” and then spiralled into fear so visceral I couldn’t be alone, for fear I’d go crazy and do the unthinkable. I was trapped in a vicious cycle… feeling depressed made me more anxious and feeling anxious worsened the depression.
My father, who was a doctor, said I was experiencing post-partum depression and prescribed an antidepressant. I also saw a psychiatrist, who said that with the medication I would be fine. That’s how it was done in 1983… no mention of lifestyles changes, counselling, or other potential treatments. The pills worked, so I took them until after my second daughter was born… too afraid to again face post-partum symptoms. When life settled down, and my marriage and career seemed stable, I weaned off the medication and managed well for a number of years.
My next experience with paralyzing fear came at the end of my first marriage. Emotions were high; my anxiety levels were higher. Again, I was prescribed medication, this time by my GP. I did get counselling, but, unfortunately, the counsellor decided my husband was a jerk and that I’d be better off without him. So, I concluded the anxiety was situational, and didn’t see the need for further counselling to get to its root causes.
Fast forward to the beginning of my second marriage. I’m feeling good and decide to taper off medication again… which was fine until I accepted a job that turned into the worst experience of my working life. Eighteen months later, just after I resigned, I descended into what can only be called hell on earth. I had acute anxiety for three days… I couldn’t think… I couldn’t eat or drink without vomiting… I couldn’t be alone for fear I would die. And, at times, I wished I would because I didn’t think I could stand another minute.
I was prescribed three medications… in large doses. A benzodiazepine for sleep, an antidepressant, and an antipsychotic, which is sometimes used to treat anxiety and depression when just the antidepressant isn’t enough. While I don’t regret taking the medications, as they dulled the anxiety and lifted the depression to manageable levels… they did make me look and feel somewhat like a zombie for a few months.
With that first stage of recovery under my belt, I started thinking about tapering off my medications. Like many other people who take them… I thought I was weak and wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t. First, I tapered off the sleeping pill. Then I significantly reduced the antipsychotic but decided to stay on the same dose of antidepressant.
And there I sat for almost 20 years. In the early years, I tried a few times to wean off the antidepressant, but always experienced low-level anxiety and other minor side effects. Mainly, though, I was still afraid of being afraid… terrified to look inside and find what was hiding there.
Fast forward again to about a year ago when I was 65. I must have been ready for change, because a transformational book came across my desk while I was researching a HEADS UP podcast about depression. It’s called Lost Connections: Uncovering the Real Causes of Depression ─ and the Unexpected Solutions by Johann Hari, an award-winning journalist and bestselling author.
The book changed my life. First, it made me look at my situation differently; through a lens of evidence-based findings on the effectiveness of medication for depression and/or anxiety. And it made me question the medical system’s longstanding pharmaceutical approach to symptom management… and the crutch it had perhaps become for me.
So, with input from a psychotherapist and a pharmacist, I developed a plan for tapering off the medications. I felt ready, given that my life was totally different than it was 20 years ago, and that I was truly invested in my physical, mental, and spiritual health.
The three of us agreed that tapering should be done very slowly, given that I’d been on hefty doses of medication for almost two decades. And because I’d had side effects when I last tried to cut down.
Starting last spring, I cut my antipsychotic medication over several months by almost 90 percent. It surprised me that I experienced no anxiety during that time. And it thrilled me that I felt increasingly more energetic and alive as the doses dropped.
I delayed tapering down from the antidepressant until this spring… given that winter can be a hard time for me. Now it’s April, and I’ve reduced the dose of my antidepressant a small amount. I felt stirrings of anxiety for a couple of weeks, and experienced vivid, sometimes disturbing dreams, but that all passed. I then decided to taper down again. I’ll stay at that dose for about a month before cutting down further. That’s slower tapering than many people do, but I’m fine with that.
Most importantly, we also agreed that I needed to be realistic about my ability to taper off completely. I’ve accepted that and will take this process one day at a time, watching for withdrawal symptoms that might be too much for me. I realize that I may have to take medications for the rest of my life, and I have no shame or guilt around that. Nor should you if you’re on medication that improves your mental health and quality of life.
Again, please note that I shared my story for informational purposes only to help others. If you’re experiencing mental health challenges or want to taper off medication, please seek advice from your doctor and/or a mental health professional.
Jo de Vries is founder and CEO of the Fresh Outlook Foundation, and the producer of HEADS UP Community Mental Health programming.