Antidepressants saved my life. When I was forced to go cold turkey, they nearly ended it too

Emma Clarke
·Contributor
·8-min read

Emma Clarke, 33, is a freelance journalist based in London. She has lived with severe depression for most of her life. Here, Emma explains how antidepressants changed her life…

Silhouette of sad and depressed woman sitting on the floor at home
Writer Emma Clarke warns of the danger of suddenly stopping antidepressants. (Getty Images)

I first went on antidepressants at the age of 24, not long after my father passed away. It had been a particularly tough and gruelling year, that not only impacted my work and social life, but also my relationships and sense of self. I couldn’t figure out how to put the pieces back together, and at one point, it felt like the only way out was if I simply didn’t exist.

Because my family had suffered the same loss, I found myself unable to burden them with this revelation. I also felt a tremendous amount of guilt for even considering adding to their pain. My friendships had all but diminished and I really didn’t have anyone I could talk to. So debilitating was this fog – so all-consuming – that I genuinely couldn’t see another way; I couldn’t find meaning or joy in anything anymore.

I don’t remember exactly what prompted my call, but I found myself ringing the doctor. He later diagnosed me with severe depression and prescribed me a course of therapy and Sertraline – a sort of gateway antidepressant known as a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI). (Essentially, it’s a mood-boosting drug that increases the levels of serotonin in your body, the chemical that sends messages to your brain and enhances your state of mind, bodily functions, memory and sleep.)

It took several weeks to feel the full effects of the medication, but an element of it kicked in straight away, as no longer was I having so many suicidal ideations. I didn’t feel good per se, I just didn’t feel quite so depleted and hopeless – which, as any GP will tell you, is sort of the point; you’re not meant to notice a big change, it will just work in the background.

I realised I had never been completely without this sense of sadness

During this time, I started to reflect on the state of my mental health before this period. Had I ever been completely without this sense of sadness? I realised the answer was no. Aside from the recent life events that understandably plunged me into a state of depression and grief, I could find traces of this illness as far back as my teenage years – though perhaps not so severe. It had always been there, like some sort of intangible spectre. It was subtle, but haunted me every day.

That’s not to say that I was never happy or that I didn’t experience positive feelings – of course I did. But generally people considered me withdrawn, quiet or moody. I would often hear these comments as a young girl and internalise them – assume there was something fundamentally “wrong” with me.

Even now that I am better educated on my illness, its symptoms and triggers, I find myself falling into this trap of self-blame and loathing. Which, of course, only perpetuates the issue and adds to this feeling of isolation and despair.

After six months of taking antidepressants, I started to feel more resilient: in the depths of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible (Sertraline-induced) summer. I reached out to old friends and began planning for the future again – I was going to go on a solo trip to America, and had a new job lined up for when I returned.

After six months of taking antidepressants, I started to feel more resilient

I have always found travel to be restorative and nurturing, but this particular trip allowed me to rediscover my independence, passion and confidence. What’s more, the people I met along the way, and the interactions we shared, dispelled some of the deep-rooted beliefs I had about myself. I started to feel worthy of love, kindness and respect again.

And for some time, it was enough. But then the pandemic struck. I was working long hours, cooped up inside like the rest of the world and living alone. All that hope and promise of a fresh start was dashed, as I tried to not only make sense of the situation, but stay afloat mentally – I was concerned I would fall back into my depressive state and not be so lucky as to return this time.

While I hadn’t been on antidepressants for a while by that point and had felt relatively stable without them, I decided to speak to my doctor about going back on them. I was sleep deprived and starting to feel very low again, and so they prescribed me an incredibly potent drug called Mirtazapine.

It was a shock to the system, to say the least. I’d feel spacey and nauseous, then it knocked me out – and I found the weight gain significant. What was even harder to deal with, though, was just how difficult it was to wake up the next day. In one sense, the uninterrupted sleep was a godsend and significantly improved my mood, but on the other, it made some aspects of life more difficult – not least being on time for work or being able to do anything in the evening.

Mirtazapine left me feeling spacey and nauseous, then it knocked me out

I went back to my doctor again and told them that, while they definitely worked and I was feeling much better, I couldn’t feasibly stay on them as they were too strong for me. Rather than compliment my lifestyle, my lifestyle was being moulded around them.

And so they prescribed me yet another type of antidepressant: Citalopram. Sitting somewhere between Sertraline and Mirtazapine, Citalopram felt much more manageable for me. It was stronger and slightly more effective in my case than the former, but nowhere near as powerful as what I had just been on.

A year then went by and in that time I had no major setbacks. Don’t get me wrong – I was not bouncing off the walls, but I felt stable and balanced; at peace with myself for the longest stretch of time I had experienced so far.

That’s when the issues began – not with me, my brain or my mood, but with the communications between my GP and pharmacy. I would have my regular check-ins with the doctor, talk about how I was doing, the dosage, etc, they would then prescribe more tablets, but, for some reason the pharmacy would never get the prescription – or, as happened on multiple occasions, they ran out of stock.

The panic would set in; I would be nearing the end of my current box or have already run out, then faced days – potentially weeks – without my medication. Despite the frantic calls to both and the in-person visits, no one seemed to listen to me or heed my sense of urgency.

I would be nearing the end of my antidepressants then faced days – potentially weeks – without them

When you are prescribed antidepressants, you are always warned not to stop taking them cold turkey; you have to wean yourself off them, else you may be prone to suicidal ideations and low moods – aka, why you take them in the first place. I was aghast, then, at just how flippant everyone was about my case. I had made so much progress and I stood to revert back to that place – or worse – because they couldn’t get their act together or get hold of the medication.

And this only stands to get worse. Since 2021, the UK has had increasing supply issues when it comes to medication. Some of the most impacted medications include those used to treat diabetes, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and epilepsy, as well as hormone replacement therapy (HRT) – the causes of which include the war in Ukraine, Brexit and the COVID-19 pandemic.

In some instances I only had to wait a few days for them to have my medication back in stock, but other times, I would have to wait weeks – which meant untold damage to my mental state and wellbeing. It’s not that I was addicted or dependent on these drugs (I have now been off all antidepressants for at least two years), but the sudden removal of them from my day to day was massively felt. Your body becomes used to those hormones and chemicals, and without a gradual change, the results can be disastrous.

Waiting on medication meant untold damage to my mental state and wellbeing

By now, antidepressants have been a significant part of my adult life. I absolutely stand by their powers to save lives and help endless others. I also believe that the only way to destigmatise them is to share our experiences with them – especially as every person is different and no two cases are the same.

But there is also a very real and serious risk if people ignore the medical advice given to them when they take medication – or if they are refused access to it. Awareness and education is key, and more needs to be done to safeguard people. I should know.

CALM's helpline and webchat are open from 5pm until midnight, 365 days a year. Call CALM on 0800 58 58 58 or chat to their trained helpline staff online, it’s free, anonymous and confidential.

You can also contact Samaritans free on 116 123 or view other ways to get in touch with the charity. Or for more information about mental health and how to get help visit Mind.

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