Facing (Neuro)Emotions in Withdrawal

If you're reading this, chances are you're going through withdrawal... and it’s been incredibly hard. I'm so sorry. I've been there too. I know how isolating it can feel, and how little understanding and support there often is from doctors or therapists.

I want to talk today about something many people in psychiatric drug withdrawal experience but don't always have words for: the extreme emotions that come during the healing process. They're not like normal emotions. They're often called neuro-emotions in the withdrawal community, and I hope that by sharing my experience, you'll feel less alone and more hopeful.

You are healing, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Your only job right now is surviving—and that’s enough.

Understanding Neuro-Emotions in Withdrawal

During my own withdrawal, emotions felt larger than life. They were extreme, unpredictable, and often unbearable.

The term neuro-emotion captures this well. It refers to emotional responses that are deeply tied to the nervous system’s dysregulation... not reflective of your actual thoughts or circumstances, but driven by the chemical and neurological chaos of healing.

I remember feeling fear so intense it felt like being chased by a bear… or like I was a caged tiger, unable to escape the pressure building inside. I had catastrophic thoughts: that my life was over, that I’d never recover, that I’d ruined everything. It felt irrecoverable.

And above all, I felt regret. It was like a scalding hot iron in my brain. I couldn’t stop looping on mistakes I thought I’d made. I couldn’t soothe myself. I couldn’t offer myself any believable positive thoughts. Even when people tried to remind me of who I was or how God saw me, I couldn’t think of anything. I felt blank. Numb. Negative. Desperate.

When You Can’t Soothe Yourself

That’s what made it even harder... I couldn’t calm myself. I couldn’t create or believe any sense of hope. It was like my nervous system had become an infant again, screaming for someone to hold it, to rock it, to reassure it.

And honestly, that’s exactly what helped: other people’s words of hope. I leaned on them. I needed people who could say, “You’re going to get through this,” and I needed to hear it often.

Sometimes your nervous system is just too dysregulated to produce or believe comfort on its own. That’s not weakness. That’s withdrawal.

When the Past Comes Back Too

Another brutal part of this process was how traumatic memories and negative emotions would resurface and loop. Memories from my past would just parade in front of me again and again. Things I had worked through or mostly forgotten came back with force. Everything felt emotionally loaded.

But that doesn’t mean it will stay that way.

As your brain heals, this stops. It’s not forever. Your brain won’t always work like this.

A Picture of What’s Ahead

You will be able to enjoy normal life again. Walks, cooking, friends, family, even creativity. These things are possible again.

You’ll be able to weather a hard day without it feeling like the end of the world. You’ll be able to remember the past without drowning in it. You’ll feel present again, balanced again, even joyful.

But right now? It’s survival mode.

That means giving yourself lots of care, lots of rest, and lots of compassion. Surround yourself with people who can remind you that you're healing... even when you can’t feel it yet.

You’re Not Alone. You’re Not Broken.

There are so many of us who have been through this. You might be physically alone in your room, but you're not alone in your experience.

This isn't your fault. It's a result of a medical system that prescribed medications without proper tapering support or informed consent. The withdrawal isn’t you—it’s your brain healing from what the drugs disrupted.

And the human body is resilient. So is the brain. So is the spirit.

You are healing. Day by day.

Hold on to the truth that so many people have survived this and gone on to flourish... often more than before, because healing from something this hard produces deep resilience.

So hang in there.

You will get your energy back. You will get your perspective back. You will get your life back. It just takes time.

And if you need someone to talk to, someone who’s been through it, please reach out. You don’t have to do this alone.

You're healing, even now.

❤️‍🩹 Joanna