The other day I was going through old papers when I found a letter written by a psychiatrist that my doctor had referred to me in 2012.
There, in black and white, was a stark analysis of my mental state at the time, the maelstrom of emotions I was experiencing, the confusion, anxiety, guilt, panic, worry — all noted down in clear, neat, clinical language.
She wrote, “I’m sorry that things are difficult right now.” “But I do hope that the new medication will be helpful.”
That’s what I did. I found it very useful. It was a real lifesaver, to be honest. It was difficult at the time, I had two young children, and my husband, who was rising in politics. Life was fun, full, fulfilling — on the surface, at least.
But underneath, I felt overwhelmed and out of control. It was as if I were stumbling from day to day, without any sense of purpose.
Everybody around me appeared so bright, organized and so successful. However, I found it difficult to get out the bed every morning.
These feelings were lessened by the medication. It stabilized me and my chaotic mind.
My energy level improved, and I felt more organised and calmer. As a mother I felt less insecure, but marginally more helpful as a wife.
Of course, all my concerns were there. However, the volume has been reduced from an almost unbearable ten to two or three.
So you will never find me judging anyone who is taking — or has ever taken — antidepressants, or the doctors and mental health professionals who, when faced with patients at their wits’ end, write a prescription for them.
However, this week’s National Institute for Health and Care Excellence announcement, which requires professionals to look at alternative methods such as meditation, therapy or exercise, before prescribing antidepressants, was long overdue.
SARAH VINE: You will never find me judging anyone who is taking — or has ever taken — antidepressants, or the doctors and mental health professionals who, when faced with patients at their wits’ end, write a prescription for them (file photo)
As Britain is facing a surge in mental illness due to the pandemic which saw a significant increase in medication use, this advice was issued.
In England, 7.3 million were taking antidepressants in 2017, and 15% of adults took five or more medication per day.
The record-breaking number of children who are receiving chemical treatment for their depression is especially alarming. Between five and 16 years old, 231 791 prescriptions were given in 2020. In the five-year period that has followed, the number of prescriptions issued to primary school students rose by 20%; secondary school pupils have seen a rise of 23%.
This is the first time in history that a whole generation was so medicated. Never have young people been subject to such mind-altering drugs. The potential consequences are enormous.
This is an epidemic that can inflict as much damage as Covid in its insidious ways. This epidemic, rather than threatening our bodies and brains, is a threat to our mental and physical health.
How we tackle it is important: medication should be a weapon of last resort — not, as it currently is, the first thing we reach for. These drugs are an effective tool for treating mental illnesses, but they have their downsides.
Most people are familiar with the withdrawal effects. This has been something I’ve written before, and it is also something I personally experienced.
After almost a decade of taking various types of NHS antidepressants, it was four years ago that I finally gave up.
I had begun to explore different ways of dealing with my neuroses, from diet to exercise and therapy, and felt ready to experience life again free of — in my case — SSRIs (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors).
The process of stopping was more complicated than I ever imagined or that anyone ever advised me.
The depression rendered it difficult for me to work, making it almost impossible. I felt like a dam broke inside me, unleashing an army demons.
It also unleashed many debilitating physical symptoms that will all be familiar to those who tried these drugs. These include a loss of concentration, memory loss, nightmares, severe anxiety, insomnia, fatigue and nerve pain.
I tried, I failed, I tried, I failed. After two to three days I was able to manage the symptoms, but then they became unbearable. That little blue pill was all that made them disappear. It was such blissful relief.
However, I kept going. Eventually I got down to the lowest dose possible — and there I remain. But I can’t seem to break away.
The side effects return every time I attempt to use it. Indeed, some are now with me permanently, the worst of which is probably the tinnitus — an internal sound behind the ears which varies from a low whoosh to a high-pitched whine, depending on my overall stress level — and the nerve pain, which manifests itself whenever I get particularly tired.
In England, 7.3 million people used antidepressants at least once a week from 2017-2018. A staggering 15% of adults use five to more drugs per day. Stock image
None of it compares to the effects of my continued use of these substances on my personality, my ability to function emotionally and as a normal human being.
These drugs bent me out of shape in a way I could never have imagined, allowed me to do things I should never have done — and probably never would have, had I not been so emotionally numb.
The death of her father, a friend and close confidante was one example. The loss of her father left her devastated and inconsolable.
Although I was aware that she required my support, I couldn’t sympathize. Although I could understand her pain abstractly, I couldn’t connect with her emotional side.
This was the moment I first realized: although antidepressants helped me function better, some time along the way they made it seem like I had lost myself.
One of my dreams was that the roof on our house was leaking. Although the leak was small in my first dream, I ignored it and hoped it would stop.
It would only get worse, until water started to run down the walls and drip off ceilings. Soon, the crack became so large that the front of the home would be thrown into the street.
That’s how I feel about depression. What the drugs do — brilliantly — is stop the metaphorical house falling down while you get the metaphorical builders in.
However, you’ll remain depressed regardless of all the clever chemistry and repairs you make.
And eventually, like that wall, you will crack — and your whole world will come crashing down around you.
Why is everyone so surprised at the Prime Minister’s obsession with Peppa Pig? He’s the father of a toddler.
Everyone knows that Peppapig is crack cocaine for toddlers.
It’s certainly the only thing that will buy you an extra 20 minutes of shut-eye on a Sunday morning. He could certainly use a little more of it, I think.
Make a Saudi stand, Lewis!
I’m not very up on Formula 1, but even I know that Lewis Hamilton has been distinguishing himself as a great driver over the past few weeks.
He’s a huge inspiration to young people everywhere, and unstinting in his support for Black Lives Matter.
Lewis Hamilton after his win at the Doha Grand Prix this weekend
Which is why, to show his sympathy for the oppressed, he should boycott this weekend’s Grand Prix in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia.
It’s bad enough that we’ve lost David Beckham to the Qataris; it would be nice to know that some British sportsmen still have principles.
There have been calls for video games to replace school trips after a non-violent version of Assassin’s Creed was successful in teaching secondary school pupils about the Vikings.
This is clearly an awful idea. It is an honorable rite of passage for young people to spend seven hours riding in a stinky coach, before wandering through a replica Iron Age settlement, in the rain and mud, or stay in some ruinous hovel in Dieppe, drinking Pernod contraband and burning your lungs with Gauloises. It’s much more entertaining than just staring at a damn screen. Again.
Each day brings you something new.
‘Doxxing’ is the word to describe the practice of publishing someone’s personal details online so that other people can take action – inevitably negative – against them.
JK Rowling is the latest victim. She called police when three transgender activists disclosed her Edinburgh home address.
My 17-year old daughter received a threat of death in her post after this occurred to our family last year.
We saw this from Sir David Amess’s story, which we will remember for the rest of the week. It takes only one idiot. In this instance, it was three.