I didn’t realize how much of a fog I’d been walking around in until it wasn’t there anymore.
When I stopped taking my SSRI last summer, I wasn’t expecting much to change as I’d never really felt much of a positive effect—and I certainly wasn’t expecting my depression and anxiety to get worse.
My depression is chronic, the kind that used to be called dysthymia and is now called persistent depressive disorder. It’s usually like a low-grade fever, with occasional spikes. After a while, you learn to live with it—muddle along—and many people are never formally diagnosed because they think that this is just what everything is supposed to be like. It’s not.