Antidepressed
Ice baths and my journey getting off the little pills that have helped prop me up the past seven years
I began writing this on a sunny April afternoon, a rare perfect Florida spring day without a touch of the usual swampy humidity and cloud of mosquitos. A light smile played about the corner of my lips and a whisper of a breeze ruffled a stray hair. I was peaceful. Content. Dare I say — happy.
And I hadn’t taken my antidepressants that day.
One prescription I weaned off over the course of six weeks between February and March, analyzing my every change in emotion with the dedicated focus of a scientist in her lab. The other I just stopped without much thought — until I reached for the bottle on auto-pilot that April morning, only to find it was no longer there.
For over six years, these little capsules, arranged in a colorful days-of-the-week dispenser to be swallowed immediately upon rising, helped hold me together. Helped keep me level. Helped me stay alive.
But then I just….never got off them.
Life changed and shifted. I moved, switched therapists, moved again, switched doctors, lowered a dose here, changed a brand there… But every morning there they were, always at least two (at times plus one to bring me back down at night), always daily. Never forgotten, never skipped.
Until now.
My 2023 mental health journey has been unlike any other.
Healing (physically, mentally) post-head thing left me feeling the need to do something drastically different — so I applied for a guided eight-week microdosing program in January. Calling upon the magic of mushrooms and working alongside a coach and cohort, I dove into the world of psilocybin and what it could mean for me and my healing1, along with lowering the intensity of my life. I slept more, bid a (partial) adieu to caffeine and alcohol, and swapped my 5x-a-week strength training sessions for more Pilates and yoga.
Of course, there was a lot more inner and outer work done behind-the-scenes but I’ll sum it up with this: I feel like my years of hard self-work and trial-and-error and therapy and workshops suddenly clicked.
These little pills felt crucial six years ago when life felt like a walking panic attack.
But now? Vastly different in age, situation, and life experience — it was time to make a change. After a string of (several) unhelpful doctors advising me not to get off my SSRIs despite my requests, I finally found one who said yes — she then promptly canceled all of my follow-ups, and three months later I am STILL on an appointment waitlist.
So I called upon my support system, and I did it anyway2.
I felt internally compelled to see what The Moods of Avery (age 32, married with dog, house, steady income) are now. How do they shift and change daily, weekly? Seasonally? As I dance under the disco ball of my wedding? As we prepare to move from Florida to Hawaii? As I wake up on a Monday morning?
This is what I set off to discover, along with: what does it take now to keep my mind and my moods healthy?
Currently, my answers involve ice baths3 and 10-minute meditations and journaling
— they are my first responders. I am blessed with a man who hauls a cooler full of ice back from work for me daily so I can plunge myself for 3 – 5 minutes into a bone-chilling, breath-capturing bath before embarking on my day.
When I ceased the first medication, I did experience symptoms akin to withdrawal, feelings prescribers don’t talk about — discomfort in my skin, extreme sensitivity to noise, some tumultuous emotions, and general overwhelm for a few days. I gave myself space, cried to Josh when I needed to, took a lot of baths (hot and iced), and rode the waves.
And now? I’m feeling pretty, well, me.
Me, but different. It’s hard to pinpoint the direct cause-and-effect relationship of getting off medication because this moment in time is also the culmination of years of therapy and self-work and growth and life experience (and “head things” that remind us we are very, very mortal.) But I can say I have never seen leaves so green or sat in awe of such hot pink sunsets. Food tastes sweeter, even. I can cry again — at a sad song, touching commercial, or moment of connection — tears flowing more readily when the emotion calls for them.
Anyone at my wedding can attest to this.
But here we are. Lovin’ and livin’ life day by day.
When someone asks me if I “believe” in antidepressants I hesitate to respond.
I hesitate because at the time in my life when I felt like my world was breaking apart, when I could not physically leave my house, when panic attacks brought me to my knees in a little ball on the hardwood floor of my San Francisco bedroom, when waking up was of little interest to me during that summer in my childhood bedroom — they helped me. They were the ladder tossed down to my dark pit, footholds to find as I began to climb my way out.
But as the years went on, I saw how quick my doctors were to prescribe them, so resistant when I asked to taper off. I was put on these prescriptions with no discussion on how to eventually get off. I was told I had a chemical imbalance, a medical myth now being debunked4. I thought this was just the way I was and needed these little tablets daily in order to live a somewhat joyful life. Forever.
I know now this isn’t true. I wish I was more educated on alternative treatment options, side effects, and lifestyle changes at the time of my initial diagnosis, but I wasn’t. So I fervently explore them now.
Mental health — BRAIN HEALTH — is a larger discussion we must continue to have.
The nuances of causes and subsequent treatments deeply interest me, but I know my limitations when it comes to writing about them, especially from my own story and perspective. I acknowledge there is a lot of work to be done in this space.
Health (of all kinds) is a lifelong journey.
We live in a society that constantly seeks the easy button — but a quick health fix is a myth. I’m now playing the long game, focusing on building habits and a complete lifestyle around good physical AND mental health. Longevity.
My daily habits may look “high maintenance” to some and overkill to others, but in actuality, these are tools to set me up for success daily — so I can show up as my best self for my husband, family, coworkers, and even strangers at the coffee shop.
This is my one life and my one body and I’m gifted with a chance to experience the beauty of it.
And right now that means antidepressant-free.
I’m not happy all the time. We’re not supposed to be. But right now I finally feel safe enough to cast those little orange bottles to the side — thanking them for what they were, and thanking God and the Universe and my support system and myself for where I am now.
What transpired during my microdosing journey was a brilliant unfolding of new truths and perspectives so fresh they glow. I was learning and healing but my mind was simultaneously cracking open with new thought pathways previously unexplored and even unformed. Because I am so passionate about this journey, I shall save it for another time, another conversation — I have no words yet worthy to weave those stories, especially around a topic still so misunderstood and controversial. If you’re interested in the science and history of psychedelics and their potential to heal, this book is a brilliant place to start.
I in NO WAY condone ignoring the advice of your physician or battling mental health alone. Please work with a trusted professional when managing medication.
Learn more about the health benefits of cold exposure from neuroscientist Andrew Huberman on this podcast.
We have a long way to go with mental health research. If you’re interested, start doing your own! Just not on TikTok.