This Is Why I Struggle With Taking My SSRI’s

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Despite what my Facebook page might tell you, being consistently happy doesn’t always come easy to me. I learned over 10 years ago, I was 1 out of 5 people who struggles with depression. 

It took lots of trial and error to figure out which medication my body would respond best to. For me, Zoloft was the answer. 

This medication has seen me through high school, graduation, a miscarriage, three pregnancies, the death of my daughter and even the most joyful of times too. 

When I’m on it, I’m less agitated and more motivated. I’m a better mom, fiancé, daughter and friend. 

So you’d think it would be an easy task to complete each day. It’s just a couple of pills, right? 


I struggle (in the worst way) with taking my anti-depression medicine. 


To start, my life is busy. 

I have children hanging off my every limb and there are days they all need medicine of their own. So you might see how neglecting myself comes naturally.  

And then there are the days I do remember to take it and I don’t, why? 

Because I feel great! 

I’ve deceived myself into believing I can take my meds, “as needed.” 

But in reality, my brain is still surfing off the added serotonin provided from my previous doses. So when I discontinue use for a day or two, I’ve effortlessly fooled myself (once again) into thinking I am cured. 

If I really want to test myself, I’ll give it a week or two. By then, I’m irritated and feel defeated. I can still function – yes. But I’m a MUCH better version of myself on the meds than off the meds. 

And in all honesty, I hate that. 

I hate relying on a medication to determine my overall state of happiness. 

Why can’t I be perfectly content with where I am in life without the meds? 

I have four beautiful, healthy children – why can’t that be enough? 

This question brings in my most daunting, and ugly enemy – Pride. 

And it whispers to me the most profound lies. 

I can overcome my depression on my own. 

It’s just mind over matter. 

A mom who relies on medication is not as grand compared to one who does not. 

I am not a depressed person. 

I am not a depressed person. 

I am not a depressed person. 

Well, let me tell you something – my pride can go straight to hell. 

Because the fact that I recognize my depression as an issue and put forth steps to fixing the problem, proves I am being the best mom I can be. 

So if you’re like me, please know there is no shame in the med-taking game. Because just like a diabetic needs insulin, a depressed person needs depression medication. 

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