After reading lists of side effects and hearing story after story of how taking medication is very, very bad (thanks for that, people on the internet), it’s no surprise that I started taking fluoxetine with a massive side of fear.

I worried that I’d end up feeling even more depressed than before.

I worried that taking pills would change who I was, snatching away my creativity, my cool, edgy dark thoughts, and my self-deprecating sense of humour.

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I worried that I’d be a walking list of side effects, with blurry vision, tremors, and insomnia.


But a month into taking the pills, I was just waiting for anything to feel different.



I had shaky legs in the morning. I felt a little more thirsty than usual. I’d had two of the lowest days I’d ever had. I’d had two days of things feeling a little lighter. But that was it. No dramatic changes, no magical transformation into a happy, depression and anxiety free version of myself.

I was still feeling low. I was still obsessing over open windows, lit candles, and switches left on.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I went to my GP, and he explained that it might just be taking a while for the effects of the pills to set in, noting that it could be another month before I felt at all different.

He prescribed me a second month’s worth of fluoxetine and advised me that if after another month I didn’t feel any improvements, he would be upping my doseage.

So today, I’m two months and a week into taking fluoxetine.

How do I feel? The differences are subtle.

My shaky legs have calmed down. It looks like the doctor was right: that was just my body adapting to the pills.

I’m not experiencing any more thirst than usual (that was one of the symptoms other people on fluoxetine warned me about most frequently. But I’m still on my usual ten green teas a day habit).

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I haven’t gone blind, I definitely haven’t lost my appetite, and my sex drive seems the same as it always has.

I don’t feel 100%, bouncing off the walls happy. I’m not anxiety-free.

But I’ve been noting down my moods each day, and looking back over the last two months, I’ve been having significantly fewer anxious thoughts, and my depression has lessened.

I’m not returning from work just to think negative thoughts about myself for a few hours before I pass out, exhausted.

I’m still having depressive thoughts, but they’re less frequent, and I manage to stop them at the first ‘I hate myself and I’m terrible at my job’ before they turn into a three hour wallowing session.

Things feel a little lighter, easier.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

It feels easier to get up in the morning, easier to leave the house, easier to turn off from negative thoughts.



My anxiety spirals have calmed, too.

I still feel anxious. I still worry that I’m going to get murdered and that I’ll burn my house down.

But slowly, almost without me noticing, the anxious thoughts have decreased in frequency and intensity. I’m not caught in loops of anxious thoughts, and my need to check things has definitely lowered – even if it hasn’t disappeared completely.

And to be clear, it hasn’t disappeared. I’ve had four panic attacks in the last two months, sparked by socialising, having to talk on camera (it was fine in the end, I just had a bit of a meltdown ten minutes beforehand), walking down a dark alley, and worrying about everything on my to-do list.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

But the decrease is welcome. It’s a fairly massive difference from having at least one panic attack a week, nearly always without an obvious trigger.

I haven’t been obsessively checking things. I’m able to stop checking after the second time, instead of the seventh.

Like I said, I don’t feel like an entirely different, always happy, anxiety-free person.

But I feel lighter, a little happier, and more able to be myself.

My sense of humour hasn’t disappeared. Instead, it feels easier to make jokes. I feel more confident now I’m not as weighed down my depression telling me that what I’m about to say isn’t funny or isn’t worth mentioning.

I’m still creative, and I feel like I have the energy to come up with more ideas. I’m less worried about making an idiot of myself or getting fired, so I feel freer to try out-there things and make suggestions. Which is great.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I don’t feel numb. I can still feel things. I’m still myself, but without a thick fog hanging over everything and holding me back.


I’m not entirely sure how much of these changes are down to meds, and how much is down to finally opening up about my mental illness.

But honestly, I’m not that bothered. If taking medication plays a part in feeling like a slightly happier, better version of myself, I’m not going to stop taking fluoxetine – as long as there aren’t any longterm side effects with taking it.

And two months in, I’m only experiencing one irritating side symptom: feeling incredibly awake during the week, then falling immediately asleep for hours on end whenever I sit down anywhere comfy during the weekend.

I’m crossing my fingers and hoping that this is another side effect that’ll disappear once the meds settle in or I actually sort out my sleeping routine. I need a proper bedtime.

But if it continues, I’ll have to have a serious think about whether one very annoying side effect is life-ruining enough to give up antidepressants.

At the moment, I don’t think it is.

(Picture: Ella Byworth for Metro.co.uk)

I know that for a lot of people, medication isn’t the answer. I’m still on the waiting list for therapy, and I don’t like the fact that I’ve been taking meds for two months without any non-pill treatment to go alongside them.

Antidepressants are not a quick fix. They don’t magically transform you into an entirely happy, emotionally stable being.

But for some people, they’re life-saving. And for me, they level me out and up my mood just enough that I’m able to get on with things. That might sound small, but it’s a huge deal to me.


Pills aren’t everything, they’re not a quick fix, but they can help. And those are the stories we should be sharing – not just the scary ‘my friend’s mum took antidepressants and they completely messed her up’ ones or the ‘antidepressants are just part of a massive conspiracy to keep you complacent’ ones.

I don’t want to say that everyone should take meds, or suggest that antidepressants are a replacement for therapy (I still believe that they need to work side-by-side).

But I want to break down the fear around antidepressants. I want anyone who’s struggling to know that medication can help. Slowly and in small ways, but still, they help. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

For more information, advice and support about mental health, you can call Mind’s confidential Infoline, available on 0300 123 3393 (lines open 9am – 6pm, Monday – Friday).

MORE: How to talk to your GP about your mental health

MORE: How I’m using self-care while I’m on a massive waiting list for therapy

MORE: What it’s like to start taking anti-depressants

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