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To medicate or not to medicate… Psychiatric medications are not always the question, but this does come up quite a bit when you’re dealing with anxiety, depression, or other mental health issues.
DISCLAIMER: I’m not a doctor, so I can’t give medical advice, but I can share my personal experience with taking psych meds. And with my mental health history, I’ve tried several different medications.
Keep reading and listen to the Chronically Conscious podcast to learn more about psychiatric medications and why I stopped taking them.
Why You Might Need Psychiatric Medications
I’m not a doctor, so I can’t possibly tell you if you need to be on psychiatric medications or not. That’s something for you and your doctor to decide.
From what I’ve been told by doctors, the general rule of thumb is you need medication if:
- You’re a danger to yourself and/or others
- What you’re experiencing is interfering with your ability to [reasonably] enjoy life
- The benefits of taking medication outweigh the risks and potential side effects
It’s important to note that what’s right for me may not be right for you, and what’s right for me or you might not be right for other people. When in doubt, or even if you think you’re 100% sure, always consult a medical professional. They have more experience with these things and [hopefully] know better. Of course, you may need to be patient with your doctor throughout the process.
Why I Needed Psychiatric Medications
“I think you have bipolar disorder.” The doctor peered at me through thick glasses.
“You think I have bipolar disorder, or you know I have bipolar disorder?”
“I’m pretty sure you have bipolar disorder,” he replied.
My heart sank as I slumped back into the armchair. If I’d learned anything during my late-night explorations of WebMD, having bipolar disorder meant taking medication—and lots of it. I barely tolerated taking ibuprofen for headaches, but I was desperate to solve my growing problem.
I’d spent the past half hour describing my laundry list of symptoms—how I’d quit two jobs in less than a year, wrote a book in less than a month, and nearly divorced for the umpteenth time. I was hoping for a more concrete diagnosis than “I think” and “pretty sure.” I wanted answers. Unfortunately, bipolar disorder wasn’t the answer I was hoping to receive.
The psychiatrist sensed my concern. “Let’s talk about medications,” he suggested.
He recommended Medication #1, a newer medication that he swore would have little or no side effects. He seemed more confident about this than the diagnosis itself, but this didn’t stop me from barraging him with a series of questions. Would I experience any of the following symptoms?
- Dizziness?
- Drowsiness?
- Nausea?
- Weight gain?
- Weight loss?
- Loss of what little libido I had left?
“Probably not,” he answered
“Probably not?”
If you don’t know, then how am I supposed to know?
Panic rose as a lump in my throat, trying to choke me to death. My eyes welled up with tears. My life, as I knew it, was ending.
“By the way,” he added, “I think you may also have generalized anxiety disorder.”
“You think, or you know?” I wondered, and he handed me another prescription, this one for Xanax.
Why I Really Needed Medication
“How’d it go?” my husband, Raleigh, asked when I returned home, arms laden with the psych meds I’d just picked up from the pharmacy.
“He thinks I have bipolar disorder,” I replied, setting the pill bottles down on the table.
“He thinks you have bipolar disorder, or he knows you have bipolar disorder?”
I glared at him. Our entire marriage had been characterized by my yelling, screaming, breaking dishes, crying uncontrollably for no reason, and staying up late to work on art and writing projects when I wasn’t contemplating suicide.
“At least we know what it is now. And luckily, there’s treatment.”
“At what cost?” I wondered, eying the mountain of medications on the table.
“At what gain?” It had only been a few weeks since I’d nearly left him because I was so depressed I couldn’t think straight. Seeing the psychiatrist and taking the medication was Raleigh’s ultimatum for staying together. He’d support me as long as I was seeking the treatment I needed to stay safe. Getting help was the only thing that could save me and our marriage.
Side Effects of Psychiatric Medications
During this time, CrazyMeds became my best friend. It was my go-to resource any time the psychiatrist prescribed a new medication for me to try.
Funnily enough, “CrazyMeds” autocorrected to “craziness” while I was typing, then to “crazy mess” when I tried to correct it.
Sounds about right…
Medication #1
It was a cold winter morning that I embarked upon the journey of taking medication, and it was that same cold winter morning that I thought I was making a terrible mistake.
Medication #1 made me so sleepy that I’m not even sure how I made it to work in my clunker of a sedan during a snowstorm without getting into a car accident. The psychiatrist said that the drowsiness would wear off after a couple of weeks, and when it didn’t, I insisted on trying something else.
Medication #2
Medication #2 made me walk, talk, and think like a zombie. I felt so dead, that when I was talking to my mother on the phone, she asked if I was on drugs. “Well. Sort. Of.” I replied. My new monotone voice was getting me into trouble at work, too. After all, people call customer service to talk to a person, not a robot. Even the psychiatrist admitted that I didn’t sound good when I next saw him, so he put me on something else.
Medication #3
Say hello to Medication #3. I never knew I could spit up so much food and bile. Whether I ate a full meal, a quick snack, or a small bite, I spit up everything I put into my mouth. Forget trying to go to a party—I’d take three bites and have to run to the bathroom to spit up in the toilet. My far too frequent trips to the restroom had my friends and coworkers wondering if I was okay.
NOTE: racking up several hundred dollars in medical bills to get a gastrointestinal endoscopy just to make sure you don’t have an ulcer means you are NOT okay.
Medication #4
After several weeks of spitting up my insides and losing who knows how many pounds, I moved on to Medication #4. With this one, I felt like Alice in Wonderland, walking through dream. I couldn’t hear my husband talking to me, but I heard sounds and saw shapes that weren’t actually there. When my psychiatrist realized that I couldn’t possibly function in such an altered state, he prescribed what he called, “an oldie but goody.”
Medication #5
Medication #5 was my favorite. It was the only medication that I’d tried that didn’t make me drowsy, dead, or sick to my stomach. But apparently drinking two gallons of water every day and peeing every five minutes was a cause for concern, so the psychiatrist suggested that we try something else.
Medication #6
Medication #6 was not only ineffective at curbing my emotional sensitivity (i.e., uncontrollable crying), it made my hair fall out in large clumps. When I asked the psychiatrist if I was going to lose all of my hair, he replied, “I can’t promise you that you’re not going to go bald.”
Medication #7
The possibility of going bald was the final straw. The psychiatrist put me back on Medication #5, which I was on for a couple of years. I gained back the weight I lost while on Medication #3, plus a few more, just for good measure. It doesn’t hurt to have a little bit of backup.
Not a day went by that I didn’t look at those pills and think, “I hate you.” I had to take my psych meds three times a day, so I had three opportunities to be upset about the fact that I had to take medication in order to stay sane and function.
Resentment aside, with my history of suicidal thoughts, I knew I was lucky to be alive. I learned to be grateful that I could survive my illness. But I wanted to do more than survive, I wanted to thrive.
This brings me to Medication #8 – mental toughness.
Why I Stopped Taking Psychiatric Medications
Making the Decision
I didn’t quit my psych meds cold turkey, and I’m not suggesting that you need to quit your medications cold turkey, or even at all. What I’m saying is that I made a conscious decision to live differently, and I took the necessary actions to turn that desired outcome into a reality. I knew how I wanted to live, and I was willing to do whatever it took to achieve that.
Keep in mind that this was all while under the supervision of a licensed, medical professional (remember that lovely disclaimer at the beginning? Always consult a medical professional).
Taking Action
I’m also not saying that getting off my medications was easy. In fact, it took a lot of effort, but it was definitely worth it. There were certain things I had to stop doing, and other things I had to start doing.
Stop:
- Watching TV (especially the news)
- Wasting time on social media (especially Facebook)
- Comparing myself to others (especially people that don’t have the life or results I desire for myself)
- Caring what other people think about me (especially people that don’t pay my bills. Oh, wait, nobody pays my bills except me!)
- Worrying about every little thing (especially since most of those things won’t even happen)
- Telling myself that I’ll never be good enough or that I don’t deserve to be happy (especially since that’s not true)
- Being afraid of change
Start:
- Filling my mind with good things (encouraging/uplifting audios and books)
- Cultivating meaningful relationships (engaging with people face-to-face)
- Only comparing myself to myself (striving to be better today than I was yesterday)
- Seeking mentorship (guidance from those who actually have the fruit and results I want in life)
- Letting go of anger, frustration, and resentment (learning that nothing is a big deal) and focusing on what really matters (my values and purpose in life)
- Speaking words of life instead of words of doubt (embracing the power of the spoken word and positive self-talk)
- Embracing change as an opportunity to learn (letting go of fear)
Conclusion
Retraining my brain took practice—and lots of it. Old habits can be hard to break, but I kept at it and with time, I radically transformed my life. What I once considered to be my biggest weakness (mental illness) is now my greatest strength (mental health). I’m stronger than I’d ever imagined.
Now, I’m a spiritual mentor and life coach who helps people stress less and achieve more. If my story resonated with you and you’d like to receive personalized guidance in upgrading your life, you can apply for private coaching with me here.
Chances are that you’re stronger than you think, too. But that belief is a choice. You can choose to believe in the power of medication, or you can choose to believe in the power of your own mind.
Which will you choose?
For more tips on how to improve your mental health and heal from chronic issues, subscribe to the Chronically Conscious podcast.
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