zoloft

zoloft
George Mooney
I am the father of identical twin boys. The doctors that treated my sons when they were boys warned that if we ever decided to have them placed into care for the handicapped we should not agree to any physcotropic drugs. This is when I became aware of the danger of antidepressant drugs. My wife and I both agreed that this would be the case,
My wife passed away in 1984. I was diagnosed with a ”fatal” melanoma in 1986. My twins were admjtted to a ”care” agency and placed on Prozac for son David, and Zoloft for Douglas. They were placed in homes and ”supervised” which meant that they could not enjoy the freedom they enjoyed at home and were not allowed out of the sight of their caretakers for over twenty years. With the help of anti-drug people I visited a psychotherapist who asked why David was on Prozac, as he opined that David did not have a mental disorder. I then contacted a psychiatrist that asked the same question and agreed to withdraw the Prozac. David has been withdrawn from Prozac for about two years without any ill effects beyond what I precieve as side effect damage.
Douglas’ psychiatrist ignored my certified return reciept letters requesting as legal guardian that he be withdrawn from Zoloft. Douglas developed colon cancer and passed away after fourteen months of terrible suffering. Both my twins were gifted savants.

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Suicidal on Prozac.

“…an incredible journey into another world.”

 

I am another in a long line of Prozac victims. For most of my life I’ve suffered from bouts of depression. After teaching in the public schools for nearly twenty years, I requested Prozac to help with my increasing depression. The following months began an incredible journey into another world.

At first I noticed that my self-confidence was growing. Even in my dreams (which were often fearful and involved my being in overwhelming situations) I began to gain confidence. I remember that in one dream instead of running away in fear, I stood my ground and fought my aggressor. This was an unheard of event! As one who has been given the gift of music but a paralyzing fear of being imperfect thrown in, I began to have the confidence to perform before others and finally get some affirmation.

As you might guess, if the story ended there, all would have been well. However, eventually I began to drink heavily, become very aggressive , and start to behave in ways that were also new to me. I struggled in other areas too personal to mention here in my personal life. Eventually, I saw clearly that my life was a curse to all concerned. One hears that the person who attempts suicide must be a real coward who cares only about himself. On the contrary, I knew that my continued existence was a threat to everyone I cared about. The most loving thing I could do was to end my life before I took others down with me.

I wrote the usual note saying good-by and tried to overdose on everything I could find. I swallowed all the Prozac I had, Benadryl, ….whatever I could find. I went to bed knowing that I was doing the right thing. When I survived and was brought to in the hospital, I was furious at those who had saved me. Learning that my survival was a miracle was not met by me with rejoicing. It took a while for my anger to subside.

At the ward they took me off all medication and watched me carefully. As days passed, it all began to look like a bad dream and I couldn’t imagine why I had attempted suicide. I swore to all it would never happen again. I was eventually dismissed, sent home, and again prescribed an antidepressant. This one was Effexor. Within one year the whole series of events repeated itself and I attempted suicide again…and failed. This attempt was strange. I had had a wonderful day but had ended it with a disagreement with my son. Without so much of a second thought, I was swallowing pills to kill myself!

Obviously, after my survival the psychiatrists still didn’t consider the fact that although I had been depressed most of my life I had never attempted suicide until I was put on these new antidepressants. I went back on Prozac this time. However, I was beginning to get a feeling on my own that the medication might be the cause. However, to stop and face depression with nothing was frightening. I decided to cut my dosage from 20 mg to 10 mg a day. This small drop seemed to help immensely. I just never told the doctors. Still with even 10 mg I could become furious easily. I just didn’t totally lose it.

Then I discovered you on the internet and found out about all the other people like me. Last week I stopped the Prozac and began taking ST. John’s Wort instead. I don’t know what the future holds. Perhaps, I’ll continue with the herbs. Maybe not. I don’t like taking anything, but from what I’ve learned on the web, SJW doesn’t affect a person like Prozac. I guess I will eventually find out, won’t I?

Well, that is my very condensed story. I have decided to order your book if for no other reason than to reinforce my decision not to return to Prozac.

Thank you for coming out like you have against the drug companies and helping those of us who have been so misled. I hope my story ends happily.

D.S.
Wolf444@webtv.net

Years 2000 and Prior

This is Survivor Story number 84.
Total number of stories in current database is 96

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