Daily Life

Why returning to antidepressants was an empowering choice

I first started taking antidepressants when I was seven. I couldn’t stop thinking about terrible things, and pressing my eyeballs until they hurt, and touching the floor three times before I could sleep, convinced something horrible would happen if I didn’t. A strange man asked me to tell him all about it, and he showed me a picture book about an octopus with something called Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and I swallowed little pills daily to make the bad thoughts go away.

At 14, moody and withdrawn, I was once again carted off to the psychiatrist, who said I was depressed, like I didn’t already know. I kept swallowing the pills.

One day I was taking the pills, and the next day I wasn’t, though I don’t remember when I stopped. For over 10 years, they were not in my life, and I thought I was okay.

Two months ago, I started taking them again. Looking back, I should have done it years ago.

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