Coffee with a Former Professor

"Why did you go off your meds?!" She became very upset when I told her. Angry even.

Other than Lucy, therapist J, and this blog, she's the only one I've told about going off my meds.

But why did I go off my meds? It took me a moment to remember. Side effects. Lack of efficacy—I was still very miserable while on them. The recent acknowledgment that antidepressants aren't much better than placebo. Fear of a new doctor getting pissed at me for stretching out my remaining meds. I admitted that it was stupid but that I was doing it anyway. I suggested that my depression is situational and couldn't be medicated away.

By the end of the hour, when our meeting had to end because she had another appointment, I think she realized that I was going to be okay. I told her that I knew, that I could tell that I'm a bit moodier without the drugs—maybe just less flattened—but that I have Lucy to help me, to provide a more objective eye in case I slide into depression again.

She also shared her own experience with antidepressants. What she told me made me raise my eyebrows internally: She takes Prozac to "stay married." She "doesn't have anything" like depression, but she's taking drugs because she gets "bitchy" when she's off them—irritable and quick to anger with her husband, who does have depression. She didn't mention anything about therapy for herself.

The whole thing struck me as, I'm not sure how to put it... backwards? wrong?

I don't want to read into things too much—it's not like I have any idea at all what her life is like. But I found myself concerned with how her two young children were faring in this situation.