![]() I had a cystoscopy and even an MRI of my urinary tract but my symptoms were unexplainable. I became insomniac for the first time in my life and developed horrendous anxiety, unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Despite this, the symptoms grew increasingly more debilitating I developed severe pelvic pains, my bladder felt as if it was constantly on fire and I would have to go the toilet between 20-30 times/day. Two weeks after the last pill I began to experience symptoms of a urinary tract infection. The doctor said I could taper off in two weeks and all would be fine. I thought it was about time I come off the Sertraline, thinking it didn’t do much anyway. I made friends and had met someone who loved me for who I was. The years passed and in 2012 I was thriving. The only time I ever noticed that the drug was actually having an impact on my body was when I forgot to take it, I would immediately become dizzy, light headed, nauseous and I would get a throbbing headache. The antidepressant didn’t make me happier nor did it make me more depressed. I should say that the antidepressant didn’t ever give any side-effects besides that I developed nystagmus, a rapid eye movement that would appear once in a while whilst reading or focusing my eyes on a close object. I took the pill every day for four years, never questioning the young doctor’s diagnosis. I left his office with a prescription of the antidepressant Sertraline in my hands. Sure, it was simple! I needn’t worry about it. He further explained that I had an imbalanced brain chemistry that needed to be fixed. My emotions and analytic thoughts were the symptoms of these underlying illnesses. According to his bible, I fit the description of a “socially anxious” and “dysthymic” patient perfectly. Life changed in a secondĪfter a mere ten minute chat the psychiatrist, a young and friendly, certainly well-meaning man, opened his DSM-IV and labeled me then and there, changing the course of my life in the fraction of a second. ![]() Engaging in relationships with my peers had become more and more difficult and upon well-meaning advice from a family member I went to see a psychiatrist. ![]() I was on a quest for meaning and was reflecting upon life and our existence in this world, but not necessarily in a negative way. I was 20 years old at the time and had moved eight times in my short life, changed countries twice and had become increasingly more lonely and timid. But unfortunately I will recall this summer for other, less glorious, reasons. My first encounter with psychiatry and the “mental health” system was in the summer of 2008.
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