Hey everyone, it’s Joanna. I wanted to talk about withdrawal today and how, for so many of us, it feels like living in a horror movie. It’s so bad—it really feels that way. Of course, symptoms vary depending on the person, but for those going through cold turkey, fast tapers, or just having a hard time stabilizing, it’s awful.

I know how it feels, and I want to tell you: it doesn’t stay that way. It does get better. But when you’re in it? It’s like sheer, nightmarish terror.

My Background: Why I Tapered

For a little context, I was on four different medications over the course of ten years following postpartum depression. I tried tapering once, but it didn’t go well, and I was told I might need to stay on meds for life. So, for a long time, I stayed on them to be functional for my family, especially when my kids were little.

Eventually, though, I felt ready. My kids were older, and I didn’t want to be on medication forever. I did another taper, but I had no idea what I was in for. It went so badly—like absolutely terrifying.

What It Feels Like: Horror Movie Music

Withdrawal felt like living in a panic attack 24/7. It was off-the-charts extreme, like horror movie music playing in my head all the time. It was that sense of impending doom, like something horrible was going to come and eat me alive.

I could look out the window and see it was just a normal day, but inside, it felt terrifying. It’s hard to explain, but if you’re going through withdrawal, you probably know exactly what I mean.

What’s Really Happening in Withdrawal

If you’re feeling like this, I want you to know: it’s not going to stay this way. That feeling—that alarm—is your brain trying to figure things out. It’s scrambling to replace the chemicals it was used to getting from medication.

Your brain is basically saying, “Alarm, alarm, something’s wrong!” But nothing bad is actually about to happen. Your brain just needs time to heal, and it will. Your body is amazing—it knows how to heal itself, even if you don’t know exactly how it works.

My Journey Through Withdrawal

For my taper, I was on two medications, and looking back, it probably counts as a cold turkey. I didn’t understand tapering as much as I do now.

It’s been 16 months since I started this journey. About five months in, I reinstated with a doctor’s help because it was so horrific. I experienced something called “kindling” and had to stop completely. Since then, it’s been 11 months of healing, and the symptoms have been life-changing—but they’re finally easing up.

For example, the horror movie music feeling is fading. It used to be constant, like all day, every day. I remember getting in the car and thinking, “I can’t do this. Something horrible is going to happen. My life is a disaster.” Even doing normal things like grocery shopping or taking my kids somewhere felt impossible.

Now? It’s not like that anymore. I still have bad days, but the intensity and duration of those feelings are so much less. I’m getting more windows of normalcy—longer stretches where I can function and feel okay.

A Message of Hope

This is my story of hope for you. Withdrawal doesn’t stay this bad forever. It might feel like you’re falling off a cliff sometimes, and that’s awful, but it’s part of the process. The windows of relief are proof you’re healing.

If you’re not having any windows yet, don’t be discouraged. I didn’t have them for a long time, or they were so small I barely noticed. Healing happens even when you can’t see it—it just takes time.

I’ve talked to so many people who’ve healed completely. They’re not in chat groups or forums anymore because they’ve moved on—they’re busy living their lives again. I have friends who’ve gone through this, and they’re now thriving, happier, and more grounded than ever.

The Music Will Change

It feels like you’re stuck in a horror movie, but you’re not. You’re in a story where there’s hardship, but things work out in the end. The music will change.

Please hang in there. Healing is real—it’s happening, even if it doesn’t feel like it. You’re not going to stay in this nightmare forever.

We’re healing. We’re going to get there. Stay with me, stay healing. We’re going to make it.

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