Happy fluoxetine-versary, me.

Just a year ago I was a miserable bundle of dark emotions and thoughts stuck in a pit of my brain’s own making.

I would go to work, have the occasional panic attack in the loos, then return home to lie in bed sobbing and worrying about someone breaking into the house or everyone I love dying.

It wasn’t a great deal of fun, I have to admit. And while a year ago I was probably the second lowest I’ve ever been, I’d been dealing with a battle against my own brain for over a decade. It was just that last year, inspired by other people’s openness and motivated by a realisation that I’m not a terrible human being that deserves to feel like I’m in mourning for myself, I was finally ready to ask for help.




I went to my GP hoping to get therapy. Instead I was given antidepressants and put on a waiting list for CBT.

I was resistant to taking medication. But I took them because I knew I couldn’t keep living the way I was – and I’d do anything to just get a little better.

Now, on the first day of 2018, I’m one of millions popping fluoxetine each day. A year into taking antidepressants, here’s what I’ve learned.

Antidepressants aren’t magical happy pills

I am not ecstatic. I am not full of joy. I do not dance down the streets on footsteps of sunshine followed by a sparkling rainbow.

Antidepressants don’t get rid of problems and they haven’t made me happy – they’ve just made me not miserable.

Antidepressants aren’t ‘happy pills’, they’re ‘living life’ pills. They’re the lifeline that’s pulled me out of the pit of depression and anxiety enough that I can do things that make me happy, like actually talking about my feelings, and baking, and stroking cats.

Without antidepressants I wasn’t able to get the motivation to get out of bed. I was so consumed with heavy thoughts and the weight of being alive that I couldn’t look after myself. Antidepressants have done the trick in bringing me up just enough to function normally – they’ve allowed me to go after happiness, but they haven’t magically given me the gift of being content.

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

The side effects can be a bit sh*t

In my first weeks of taking antidepressants I had the shakes (especially in the morning, when it felt terrifying trying to walk downstairs) and my sleeping pattern was completely messed up, making me stay up late, feel bouncy all day, then fall asleep for the entirety of the weekend.

A month later, those side effects calmed, as my GP said they would.

The only side effect that’s stuck around is my entire body feeling dry – my mouth, my face, my lips cry out for hydration – but I deal with that with plenty of water and decent moisturiser and lip balm.

Side effects can be annoying and scary, but they should fade within a few weeks. If they don’t, or you’re dealing with side effects that are making life difficult, talk to your doctor to see if you can take different meds. You do not have to put up with a load of terrible things just so you can quiet down suicidal thoughts. There are options.



They do make a difference

After getting over my fears that antidepressants would completely change who I am, I held on to some skepticism. What if antidepressants didn’t do anything?

When the benefits I initially saw trailed off after a few months, my doubt rose again and I stopped taking my meds. That was a mistake. I crashed, hard.

I went back to my GP and wailed about the pills not working any more. He recommended trying to up my dosage for a bit. I did, and I felt mountains better.

Because the effects of antidepressants aren’t drastic or sudden, they can be difficult to notice. Then you look back and realise just how much better you’ve been feeling.

Give medication a try. If the first ones you’re prescribed don’t fit you, ask to try another. Medication doesn’t work for absolutely everyone, but it can help a lot of us. Trust in it.

More people are taking antidepressants than you think

The moment I mentioned to people that I was taking fluoxetine, I was flooded with words of wisdom from other people who were taking, or had taken, medication for their mental health.

I was shocked. People who seemed so together, who I’d never have guessed had felt low, admitted that they relied on antidepressants. That got rid of a lot of the shame I was holding on to around taking antidepressants.

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

And the community of medication-takers is bloody lovely

Everyone I spoke to about antidepressants offered up handy tips (chewing gum for the dry mouth, setting up an alarm to remind you to take meds, avoiding alcohol) that my doctor hadn’t mentioned. They gave me support. They moaned about experiencing the same things I was going through, and reassured me that things would get better.


It still feels strange to say that I’ve bonded with people by chatting about fluoxetine, but it’s true. Nothing brings people together like a shared experience of mental illness and medication, right?

Antidepressants don’t make you ‘not yourself’ or an emotionless zombie

One of my biggest concerns about taking antidepressants was that they’d rob me of the thoughts, feelings, and creativity that makes me, me.

That’s not the case at all.

I wasn’t myself when I was under the influence of depression, anxiety, and obsessive thoughts. I was emotionally exhausted, walking around with a mental fog that stopped me from really taking anything in. My anxiety stopped me from talking to people, leaving the house, sharing my ideas, and trying new things. My depression stopped me from doing things I loved.

Antidepressants didn’t take anything away from me. It gave me myself back – the me without a heavy filter of mental baggage.

I’m more creative. I’m just as empathetic and quick to sob at pictures of kittens’ paws or romantic storylines (Hang The DJ made me weep, naturally). I’m still me. Not ‘me with antidepressants’, but ‘me without my mental illness clawing at every bit of me’.

Antidepressants don’t work alone

If I continued doing exactly what I had been doing last year, just with the addition of 40mg of Prozac, I would still feel bloody awful. Just slightly less so, probably.

Antidepressants don’t fix everything, and therapy is absolutely essential. That way you can learn coping techniques and get to the root of what’s going on.


Antidepressants work, but you do have to be ready to work on yourself. The good news is that antidepressants help to get you ready. They get rid of the fog so you can actually get on with doing things you know will help, like therapy, and self-care, and chatting to people.

There’s nothing wrong with needing to take antidepressants

I’m no longer ashamed of taking medication for my mental health, because I’ve realised needing meds isn’t a weakness or a mental failing – it’s a way to take control and take something that will help you to move forward.

I started taking antidepressants because I had reached a point where I’d do anything to stop feeling so awful.

I keep taking them because I can see how much progress I’ve made with my mental health now antidepressants are giving me a little support.

There’s no shame in that. There’s bravery, a commitment to working on an essential bit of being a person – mental wellbeing. I’m proud that I’m putting in the effort to improve who I am, how I think, and how I feel. So I’m proud that I’m taking meds.

This article is part of Getting Better, a weekly series about my journey through getting help with my mental health. You can read all previous Getting Better posts here, and check back next Monday for an update on how everything’s going.

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