I walked into a psychiatrist’s office for a prescription for my anxiety, but instead, they prescribed me depression meds. Not the words you’d want to hear when you're trying to manage a mental health condition, but most of the time, another obstacle hidden within the fine print of the bottle they hand you. I had always struggled with anxious mannerisms, but depression was never included in my mindset.

We were mid-pandemic, and I was honestly thriving, despite everything that was going on in the world. I was attending school on campus and excelling in classes and organizations. My anxiety was intensely creeping up in every task I completed, but my positive attitude helped push through it. I decided to reach out to a medical professional because even though I was in a good position, I wanted to feel more like myself and pause the thoughts constantly racing around in my head.

After a few sessions, the topic of antidepressants came up. The name really throws you off because you’d think, “Why would they prescribe me antidepressants if I don’t have depression?” Antidepressants (SSRIs) are often prescribed to ease symptoms of generalized anxiety disorder, along with other mental health conditions. However, some of the side effects include anxiety, depression, weight loss, dizziness, weight gain, and blurred vision, to name a few.

I was really excited that I was going to stop my racing thoughts and immediately said yes, not connecting the consequences of the symptoms. A few weeks after taking the SSRIs, I found myself in a deep hole of darkness with no willingness to get out. I honestly thought that it was just the pandemic and everything else happening in the world, that it would pass if I just gave it time. I never thought the medicine the doctor gave me to make me feel better would destroy me mentally.

I spent most of my time laying in bed, not wanting to get out for three weeks. My appetite decreased, I excluded myself from everything, and I reached a really scary moment where I lost every part of myself and didn't have a single care about it.

Loss of appetite was a symptom I realized was coming from the medication. The worse it got, the more I thought I should stop taking them. After five weeks and two refills, I finally stopped.

Two days later, my energy started coming back. A week later, I was back to doing school work and hanging out with my friends.

I began doing research on what poison was in this little bottle. Every time I took a tablet, I got worse. I realized that it was supposed to be helping me ease my anxiety and what was also giving me depression.

None of my problems were fixed. And now began the healing process. I turned to meditation and breathwork during this time. I never thought that was for me until I began dedicating 10 minutes in the morning and practiced until I became more comfortable with it.

A few weeks later, my symptoms subdued, everything started going back to normal. My anxiety slowly began to decrease, and I fell in love with the practice of meditation. I went from 10 minutes a day, to multiple times a day, to listening to the soothing sounds of nature and clearing my thoughts to go to sleep at night. Although it might not work for everyone, it definitely worked for me. If you’re in a similar situation to me, you may want to consider implementing meditative techniques into your daily routine.

They Prescribed Me Depression