Prozac/SSRIs: Woman’s Symptoms Worsen Beyond Original Symptoms From Withdrawal

Page seven reads [in part]:  “My doc and I tried a lot of
other medications along the way, and I had all the classic side effects.  I
went hypomanic on the Prozac, so we added mood stabilizers
to even me out.  I lost interest in sex, so we tried another
antidepressant, Wellbutrin, to bring me back.  We switched,
jiggered, and recombined, looking for that perfect pickle.  But if one
thing didn’t give me a rash or panic attacks, then it made me gobble salty junk
food in the middle of the night.  I tried most of the majors, and burned
through their effects.  I got scrawny, then fat,
petrified, then out of control, sexless, then

“Eventually the dope just doesn’t work the way it used
to.  Even Klonipin needs a boost to keep hammering you.  And that’s
when they start referring to you in whispered tones as ‘medication-resistant’.”

So I ended up in the bin that
first time, to do some serious recalibration.  I was all used up.

In the space of a few years, I went from being just
another twenty-something have a good old-fashioned life crisis to being a
pscyhotropic junky.”

Page 280 [ 3rd paragraph] reads:  “I
know that when I go off medication I feel far worse than I ever felt
before I took it,
and I have never been able to stand the downside for
more than a few months, so I don’t know how long my brain
might take to recalibrate, if it can.”

Voluntary Madness: My Year Lost and Found in the Loony Bin

by Norah

Norah Vincent (Author)

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers
Vincent’s first trip to a mental institution­to which the
writing of Self-Made Man drove her­convinced her that further
immersion would give her great material for a follow-up. The grand tour consists
of voluntary commitments to a hospital mental ward, a small private facility and
a boutique facility; but Vincent’s efforts to make a big statement about the
state of mental health treatment quickly give way to a more personal journey. An
attempt to wean herself off Prozac, for example, adds a greater sense of urgency
to her second research trip, while the therapists overseeing her final treatment
lead her to a major emotional breakthrough. Meanwhile, her fellow patients are
easily able to peg her as an emotional parasite, though this rarely stops them

from interacting with her­and though their neediness sometimes frustrates
her, she is less judgmental of them than of the doctors and nurses. The
conclusions Vincent draws from her experiences tend toward the obvious (the
better the facilities, the better chance for recovery) and the banal: No one can
heal you except you. Though keenly observed, her account never fully transcends
its central gimmick. (Jan.)
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