My Psychiatric Medication History

Some of you have asked about my medication history — perhaps to get a sense of how similar your situation is to mine. I talk about that in this video and share what medications I was on, for how long, what my taper process looked like, and mistakes I made along the way.

I know that when you’re in the middle of withdrawal, it can feel like your situation is the worst. Like it’s impossible to heal. Like no one else could possibly be this bad. I’ve felt that too.

But the truth is, that kind of catastrophic thinking—it’s actually a symptom of withdrawal. I learned that from Angie Peacock (thank you, Angie!) through her videos and withdrawal groups. That sense of doom and despair, that conviction that your case is uniquely hopeless, is just extreme anxiety talking. It’s not reality.

So if you’re having those thoughts, hold onto this: there are people with far worse situations who have healed. The healing process can take time and be absolutely grueling, but it’s real. It happens.

My Medication History

I was first put on meds after a bout of postpartum depression. I started on a low dose and, after additional intervention, was moved up to a very high dose.

A year or two later—I can’t quite remember exactly—I tried to taper off over the course of two or three months, with doctor supervision. I had withdrawal symptoms but didn’t know that’s what they were. My doctor told me it was the return of my original illness and that I’d probably need medication for life.

I didn’t like that sentence. But I believed it. I wanted to be stable and functioning for my kids, so I stayed on.

Looking back, what might’ve been a mild withdrawal was misdiagnosed and turned into a long-term dependency.

Ten Years of Switching Meds

So I stayed on antidepressants for 10 years.

During that time, I would experience side effects and would mention them to my doctor. She’d suggest switching to a different medication, which led to several fast tapers and crossovers. I now understand that those kinds of switches—especially repeated ones—can really confuse and destabilize the nervous system.

Back then, I didn’t know. I just trusted my doctor.

Sometimes after a med switch, I’d experience a depressive crash months later and have no idea why. I’d try therapy, self-help, trauma work, lifestyle changes—nothing would touch it. It just lingered.

The Medications I Was On

Here’s the general order of what I was prescribed:

• Zoloft – originally prescribed for postpartum depression
• Lexapro – taken for several years
• Wellbutrin – added for anxiety (resulting in poly-drugging)
• Citalopram – switched from Lexapro (I misspoke in the video)
• Fluoxetine (Prozac) – switched from Citalopram (last med I was on)

For a while, I was on two medications at once, which I now know is often contraindicated. The more on/off switches I went through, the more my system seemed to destabilize.

The Final Taper (and Mistakes I Made)

When my kids got older, I felt ready to come off. I had read about the risks of long-term dependence and wanted to be medication-free.

I followed the only tapering advice I’d ever been given: a 6-week taper. I stopped Wellbutrin cold turkey—based on something I had read (I can’t even remember the source). Then I tapered off fluoxetine over six weeks.

At the time, I felt optimistic. Life was good, my relationships were strong, and I felt like I could handle whatever might come up emotionally.

But I had no idea what was coming.

The Crash and Kindling

At first, I expected some depression or symptoms. I was committed to self-care and healing. But after five months, things got dark. Not just emotionally—physically too.

• I had whole-body chills and doom flooding over me
• I started experiencing intense anxiety and confusion
• I feared I truly needed meds for life
• I went back to my doctor and reinstated 20mg of fluoxetine

I took it for three days.

That decision led to kindling—a horrific reaction that felt like psychological torture. I couldn’t get out of bed. I felt doomed, condemned. I had flashbacks, guilt, anxiety, and despair that didn’t feel survivable.

The Turning Point

That morning—day three of reinstatement—I got a message from a friend who had gone off meds in the past. We hadn’t spoken in a while. I believe it was God.

She called me and stayed on the phone for two hours. She explained psychiatric withdrawal. She told me what I was experiencing wasn’t a relapse—it was withdrawal. It was kindling. It was my nervous system trying to survive.

I was stunned.

That was the beginning of a new chapter: actually understanding what was happening and committing to healing without returning to meds.

Where I Am Now

That conversation happened 15 months ago.

I’ve been completely medication-free ever since. I still have some symptoms. I still have anxiety—higher than before. But I’m functioning. I’m living. I’m working. I’m laughing. I’m parenting. I’m showing up.

My windows are getting longer. My waves are getting smaller and less intense. Healing is happening.

Final Thoughts

If your journey has been full of cold turkey stops, fast tapers, poly-drugging, reinstatements, and kindling… you can still heal. I’m living proof.

It’s heartbreaking that this kind of suffering isn’t better understood by professionals. But just because your doctor didn’t warn you, doesn’t mean your body can’t recover. It can.

I hope this helps. If you have questions or want to hear about specific parts of my journey—please leave a comment (kindly, if possible). I’d love to talk more about what’s helped me.

You can also join my email list to find out when I’ll be offering support sessions again.

You are going to make it. 💛