Citalopram saved my life. I can say that without exaggeration. Medication gets a very bad rep. There’s far too much stigma around taking a pill that can make your life so much better. If you have a chest infection, you take an antibiotic. My medication was an antibiotic to take the infectious, diseased thoughts from my brain, and stop them travelling through my body, and affecting my entire life.
It wasn’t easy – in fact, for the first week I felt like I was trying to run through mud. My stomach was upset, I was groggy, dizzy and tired, I had no energy, and felt sick. Worst of all, I felt numb. I had no feelings to feel – I had been bubble wrapped from everything I could possibly feel. It was exhausting not feeling anything. I don’t really know when that fog lifted, I just remember having the best year of my life after it. Either that, or it was such a stark contrast to the years before it.
Citalopram saved me. It cushioned the blows, and I’ve been up and down on it ever since. No, I haven’t successfully weaned myself off it, but I’m trying. I’m on the lowest dose I’ve been on since I started (10mg) – I’m getting there.
Citalopram holds my hand, like the thumb you suck as a child, like the invisible friend who keeps you company, and like the favourite scarf that keeps you warm. One day I’ll be brave enough to leave it behind, but for now, I’m happy.