How Antidepressants Blessed My Life & Why I Stopped Taking Them
My personal journey on God consecrating my affliction for my gain.
Hi, & welcome! My name is Jae—I’m a smol Filipino-American, married to my cute Filipino husband, and a proud doge mum. I like to share treasures from my life, my journey as an aspiring creative, and holistic wellness as a Latter-Day Saint Christian. Remember to subscribe if you’d like to receive my posts! You can find me on Facebook and YouTube, hehe. You’re more than welcome to share whatever resonates with you. Thank you for being here. 💌
Friendly Disclaimer
Hey! Just letting you know that I’m not here to praise antidepressants because honestly it was a HORROR STORY when I started taking them. But I wanted to share the process of how I gained valuable insights, and I also felt strongly that someone might benefit from this (or not, and that’s fine too). A friendly reminder that everyone’s story with antidepressants/etc. are all unique and just because I’m sharing what worked for me does not mean it would work for you—and that’s fine. So if I make suggestions that do not resonate with you then it’s all good! Reach out to a reliable medical professional for any help. This is just me sharing my opinions and well, of course, I’m not a medical provider—but a friend talking heart to heart with you ;) So grab some snacks and get cozy because this might take a while.
** Trigger warning: talks of suicidal thoughts, brief psychosis behaviors & symptoms, other personal, vulnerable medical experiences and its effects
When I Started Taking Medication & Why
Okay, picture this. I just got off serving a full-time mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I’ve posted some of my struggles with mental health on social media post-mission and so, some of them may know (and could possibly be reading this right now, haha.) I struggled A LOT on my mission and that’s normal. What’s not so normal and dangerous is
if you’re whole body feels threatened because of what’s going on in your brain. Serving a mission was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done, besides coming home and experiencing the ultimate blow of depression. It was the last couple months on my mission that really killed me (I was extremely anxious and depressed and I wanted to go home VERY badly), and that’s a whole different story for another day. My mission leaders saved my life and they’ve helped me go through the last parts of my mission.
Fast-forward, I came home to California where my parents live and slept A LOT. I felt like when sleeping beauty got pricked by the needle except I ugly-slept for MONTHS. I moved in with one of my sisters that lived in Utah because I felt like that’s what I wanted (to be surrounded by other awkward people my age and go to school) and I thought that by moving to Utah I would progress in every good way—something God wanted me to do and they were righteous desires, but looking back I realized I was mostly making choices through performance anxiety brain-filter which is an issue I talk a lot about in here).
Well, after a couple of weird interactions on the Mutual dating app, going on creepy dates, very long naps, and my horrifying efforts of going to church (whenever I would enter a church building and even get close to it I would be hysterical and panic-cry and run home), my mental health went downhill really fast, and that’s when my family and I considered professional help. I mean my parents knew there was something wrong, but they didn’t know how increasingly worse it was getting or how to help. I mean, I wasn’t really all there either, I just know that I wanted to disappear because I felt too miserable. So around fall of 2019, we went to a family medicine doctor and little did I know what I was getting into.
The Medicated Version of Me
Okay, so I never really looked up anything before about taking medication or whatever. I didn’t think or anticipate that it was going to be a harsh journey…I just knew I needed something. When it comes to most parts of my drugged-up journey, it’s incredibly cloudy and I don’t remember some things until one of my family members mention it…and even then I only remember a tiny bit.
However, I remember this family doctor because he looked like Ed Sheeran with a mustache and a beard. He asked me about what’s going on and I told him my symptoms and that I was having life-ending thoughts (I didn’t have a specific plan though) and he told me I was severely depressed and anxious. Hooray. And then he prescribed me my very first antidepressant called citalopram and a small dose of an antipsychotic called abilify. Two medications, for my first time.
I can easily say that my first night with those two awful medicine grubs was the worst night of entire life and I still feel that way to this day. I never, ever want to relive that night ever again. The thing is I don’t remember if I took them every night or morning, I just knew I was instructed to take them every single day, which I did. That night, I kid you not, my poor sister and her family in the room across the hallway from mine heard my absolutely psychotic screams and breaking-down-crying. That night, I would fall asleep and wake up abruptly crying, screaming, and struggling for life—and this emotional cycle occurred for about 3 or maybe 5 times. It’s like I was letting out all the secret depression I’ve had all these years, it was the most fragile thing to ever experience.
Well, I went to a treatment center (which is another story for another time.) But in rehab, I was misdiagnosed a couple of times with schizophrenia and something else with the word “severe” and “psychotic”—I don’t remember exactly. By this time, I struggled so much that I was hearing voices (and they were threatening me daily, every second of the day) so they put me on zyprexa (an atypical antipsychotic pill for bipolar/schizophrenia) and I took that with citalopram. I hated zyprexa, only because one morning I had freaking TEN courses of breakfast and I gained weight so quickly (one of the side effects). Zyprexa helped with the voices I was hearing a little bit but they didn’t entirely go away. So I switched again to another medication (still taking citalopram), I forget the name and I could be wrong but this medication really sold it for me.
Citalopram was not my favorite but it was tolerable and helped my depression to a degree, but I wanted to change it—the scary thing was the doctor I had at that time I feel like was just doing a guessing game and experimenting what could work for me, and I didn’t want to go through a nightmare process (like I had that one night) especially with a new antidepressant. I felt like if I let go of citalopram, something awful would have happened especially because I felt like that medication really, really clung to my insides like a leech and my body depended on the survival. I’m sure my (treatment center) doctor had good intentions but I did not feel like he cared enough to really take me seriously. My Ed Sheeran doctor was good as well, but I didn’t feel like he knew what he was doing. And well since I found the pair of medications that work for me (tolerable, I hated them, but they helped me survive) my medical providers approved of my desire to finally go home.
Well, I went home to California eventually with my mom and dad, and I shaved my head! Here’s pics of my cute head after a month or so.
How I Showed Up in My Relationships
So I did not hold back on my medication. I felt like I was full of fear but also incredibly fearless. I was terrified of the dark but I was not terrified to show every color of my emotions—especially the darkest parts of it. And my parents were there for me through it all. My mom would sleep with me in my room because there would be nights my medication and my severe depression mixed together would literally make me shake so terribly almost the whole night—my mother would hug me as I shake and cry. Some parts of the day or middle of the night I would scream because of the voices I heard and I wanted it all to end. My parents would run to my room and hold me. I would hit my head several times with my hands, hugging my knees, rocking back and forth yelling at the voices to stop but when I do they get even more aggressive.
Reading my scriptures and going to church made me feel sick most of the time. My relationships with my parents were comforting and I will always be eternally grateful for their unwavering support. However, my relationship with my older sister that lived close to us was rocky—there were some things that triggered me and I literally threw an ice cream at her face and ran away because I felt so embarrassed about something she did (it wasn’t even a big deal honestly but my medicated self took it to an ice cream launch level). I apologized to her many times for many things. My best friend from Arizona decided to start living with us (we had an extra room, next to mine!) and it helped my survival in EVERY way it possibly could. Even she couldn’t pull back my reins with different interactions—I had no filter. I also had a boyfriend! It ended up to be the BIGGEST romantic heartbreak I’ve experienced and also a great humbling experience I needed the most because it prepared me for my future husband (I’ll share one day!)
My Prayers & Finding the Doctor I Needed
I had a talk with my Heavenly Father one day. I told him that I would do anything, just not to rely on medications for the rest of my life, if it was His will. The medications helped me survive for this long and I was so grateful for that. I will always be grateful for my parents (ESPECIALLY, my (step)dad but I like referring to him as dad) for providing everything I needed to help me live the life I was terrified to live.
What I went through with medications blessed me with a magnificent amount of empathy I can’t measure or comprehend. After going through what I did, the Lord consecrated my afflictions for my gain—and a closer relationship with my Savior Jesus Christ was one of them. I prayed that I would stay on medication if I needed to, but if there was a way I could live without them I wanted the Lord’s help to find the RIGHT doctor for me. I prayed for a doctor that would really care about me, someone down to earth, genuine, a great listener, and would care enough to emotionally invest in my goal to get better and if possible, without medication. And the best thing I could have ever done with my parents at this time was finding a psychiatry specialist! I remember my dad handing me papers he had printed out of the specialists we had under our insurance. I looked over the names carefully and with a prayer in my heart and I kid you not, when I saw one doctor’s name I remember how much it stood out to me and the Spirit confirmed it to me like the most angelic sound of church bells ringing!
I mean, I’m pretty sure the doctor that I had at the treatment center was a specialist too but the experience I had with that doctor cannot compare to the wonderful relationship I had when I found my church-bells-a’ringin’ doctor! And I recommend (if it’s possible for you and this is just my personal opinion) finding a psychiatry specialist, not just a general family doctor or any psychiatrist—basically find a doctor that actually LOVES their career, who cares, and are oozing with compassion for your welfare. Ideally, if you can find a psychiatry specialist AND you feel that they care then go for it!
Anyway, with the new doctor we found, I’ll call her Dr. Awesome—Dr. Awesome was incredibly kind, genuine about the treatment plan we were working on TOGETHER, and she told me that she believed that I can get off my medication and get stronger. For the first time ever, I told someone (which was Dr. Awesome) that I hated citalopram and I just honestly wanted to get off the antipsychotic med and I want to be my good old self again (I forgot the pill names sorry!) And she was surprised that I was even on some of the medications that I was on and this is when she told me I didn’t have schizophrenia, bipolar, or anything of the matter—but that as I told her my story, she said that I experienced severe depression and anxiety—so severe that I went through a brief psychosis (hearing voices, doing things I normally don’t, etc.) She wanted to get me off of the heavy medications I was taking as soon as possible (especially because I was telling her the crazy stories and side effects these pills were putting me through) and told me that the past (mis)diagnoses I was given were bizarre. She was baffled enough and communicated in a way that my past medical providers acted almost carelessly. And I say that very carefully because it’s a noble profession. Basically, Dr. Awesome and I both came to a conclusion that the horrible side effects weighed greater than the tolerable healing process the pills were trying to offer me. And my whole family and friends couldn’t have agreed more.
The Aftermath and The Blessings I’ve Recognized
I just want to let you know that as much as I would never go back to that harsh experience with medication, I am so grateful that I did.
These are some of the blessings I’ve gained from the Lord consecrating my afflictions:
After weaning off my medications, Dr. Awesome put me on prozac, which I freaking loved that medication because it didn’t drive me crazy and it felt like it was helping me more than the other ones I’ve taken. Plus the side effects were almost NONE. (remember, this is what worked for my body, your body could need something different)
As I was weaning off, Dr. Awesome encouraged me to strengthen natural coping choices I could make everyday whenever my depression and anxiety crept in (which was every day) and that advice really helped my terrifying fears of going off of medications because I was able to practice wholesome, healthy activities everyday, and I desperately needed to. This looked like eating on time and healthy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, having meaningful conversations with friends and family, tuning into my creativity, take my vitamin/healthy supplement intake seriously, and doing light to moderate exercises.
Post medication and experiencing a growing, changing body, I started to notice changes. I noticed that when I followed Dr. Awesome’s advice to get off meds and strengthen natural coping, I started to become sensitive to what I ate everyday. It was nothing too bad but it was like if I ate some junk food one day (this is post-meds) I would feel depression and anxiety come in like a sneaky ninja. It was fascinating. Like if I didn’t eat healthy or exercise, my mental health struggled a lot and I was able to recognize my body’s needs quickly. My body awareness increased and it was my new superpower.
My empathy and compassion for other people experiencing similar struggles were phenomenal. I cried when they cried. I became a great listener. I felt my feelings all the way, acknowledged them, coped healthily, and practiced self-control when needed to.
Oh man…the blessings that come from showing up to therapy! I loved all the therapists I had and my suggestion is to do the work your therapist gives you and involve the Lord in them. I feel so blessed to have had therapists who were Christian, unbiased, and really knew what they’re talking about when it came to learning about our bodies as a whole, secularly and spiritually.
My relationship with my Savior and my Heavenly Parents became holier, more special, more consecrated, and they felt MORE REAL to me!
Writing about this felt really good and I felt like God was with me as I wrote it. There are definitely more I would love to share with you! If you’re reading up to now I just want to let you know that things do get better and that as a Christian, God never abandons us even if it feels like it sometimes. He loves you and is incredibly eager to help in the details of your life, especially in growth and healing. Turn to Him and trust often. Look to God and live. See you in my next one!