In the midst of discussions about mental health and medication, you’re bound to come across a description of antidepressants as ‘happy pills’.

This is usually paired with some words about how people are ‘popping’ said pills like Tic-tacs.

There’s a major problem with this description: Antidepressants don’t actually make you happy.

There’s a reason antidepressants are called antidepressants, and not ‘mood boosters’ or ‘happymakers’: It’s because they work to reduce depression.


That’s what they’re capable of doing (for some people). The most common antidepressants are SSRIs, which work to increase levels of serotonin, a neurotransmitter thought to affect mood, emotions, and sleep, in the brain. The idea is that if you up the serotonin, you’ll lessen the symptoms of depression.



Take that bit in: We’re talking about lessening the symptoms of depression, not piling on positive emotions to fill that space.

They work on low levels of serotonin by increasing them. They don’t add excess serotonin when your brain has plenty.

Antidepressants don’t make you happy. Instead – when they work – they allow you to function. And by function, I mean being able to pursue things that will bring you happiness.

Happiness is a tricky thing to define, and a tricky thing to appreciate when you have it.

What would make you happy?

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

Earning £100k a year? Getting married? Adopting a dog? Going to Bali?

Or is happiness about contentment? Great relationships with friends? Feeling fulfilled at work? Knowing that you don’t have to worry about affording food and warmth?

When people with depression ask for antidepressants, we’re not asking for either type of happiness – that ongoing contentment or the joy of money and a fancy holiday.

We just want to get to a point where we can get out of bed, go to work, or not feel filled with despair, or anger, or numbness.

I like to think of happiness as a house.

For a lot of people, their focus is on home improvement. They’d like a bigger home, or a nicer rug, or they’d like to move to a different neighbourhood.

When you have depression, you just want to get your house to have walls and a roof. The issue is not that your house isn’t particularly pretty, it’s that it’s falling apart. It barely qualifies as a home.

Antidepressants are a way to get the walls to stick together. They’re not a safe neighbourhood or a memory foam mattress or a spacious fridge.

To call them happy pills is to suggest they’re a move to a mansion; something aspirational, frivolous. That’s pretty insulting when you’re literally using them to just keep living.

I’ve been on antidepressants for over a year now.

Am I happy?

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

Sometimes, sure. When I do some work I’m proud of, or I’m snuggled up under blankets with my boyfriend, or I’ve got a cat on my lap, sure, I feel pretty content.



But antidepressants haven’t given me that joy – they’ve pulled me out of the pit of depression just enough that I have the mental and emotional energy to go after the things that bring me happiness.

Before antidepressants I was a mess. Being on my own, in the quiet, didn’t feel safe – my brain would start churning out scary, obsessive thoughts, or telling me how I awful I was, or whispering that everyone hated me, I was about to be fired, and everything was pointless.

At the same time, I didn’t have the energy or motivation to do anything but hang out in the dark bits of my brain. I struggled to get up and go to work. I’d pour myself into work so that my to-do list could take over my mental chatter, then stay late so I wouldn’t have to face myself at home. I was too anxious to talk to anyone, too self-hating to do something that would make me feel good, and just too sad and tired to go out and do things, or cook meals, or exercise.

Doing those things would have brought me some happiness.

Exercise releases endorphins, making good meals would have nourished my body much better than McDonald’s eaten in bed, spending time with people would have made me feel less alone.

But my depressed brain couldn’t make me get out of bed on a Sunday, let alone let me lace up my trainers and go for a run. My depressed self couldn’t get the energy to chop up vegetables, it wouldn’t let me get home with enough time to cook, my depression closed me off from friends, family, and a fulfilling relationship.


That’s what depression does. You know exactly what you need to do to make yourself feel happier, but you just can’t do it.

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

Antidepressants get rid of – or lessen, at least – that wall holding you back from doing all those things.

That doesn’t mean you’re magically happy. You then have to push yourself to do all the stuff that’s necessary to take care of yourself.

Going back to that house analogy, antidepressants have held the walls together. Now you can actually go out and buy a bed. Or you could not, and you won’t be getting much closer to happiness… you’ll just have the very basics of shelter.

Antidepressants are ‘functioning pills’. They’re ‘not-miserable pills’. They bring you to a neutral base so you can aim towards happiness. They take the sharp edge off depression. They in no way provide happiness, contentment, or joy, but they might help you out of despair enough that you can start thinking about what would make you happy.

Oh, and that doesn’t happen instantly.

First you have to put up with weeks of nothing happening, then side effects (hello, shaky legs and dizziness), then it’s likely that you’ll have to adjust your antidepressants to find a type and dosage that works for you.

It’s really not as simple as popping antidepressants and immediately feeling better, and they’re not something to be taken lightly.

Speaking about meds as a fun option shows a fundamental understanding of how they work.


My antidepressants aren’t ‘happy pills’. They’re survival pills.

They don’t make me happy, but they do keep me alive.

Need support? Contact the Samaritans For emotional support you can call the Samaritans 24-hour helpline on 116 123, email jo@samaritans.org, visit a Samaritans branch in person or go to the Samaritans website.

MORE: You are not a burden

MORE: I spent a week documenting my OCD on camera

MORE: Woman shares how coming off an antidepressant has ruined her life

Advertisement Advertisement