💔 When I Shared My Story About Antidepressant Harm—and Heard “They Saved My Life”

Written (and medically reviewed) from the heart by someone who’s lived it, Dr Teralyn Sell PhD 

Talking about how antidepressants harmed me—physically, emotionally, and relationally—is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Not because I’m unsure of what happened, but because I know exactly what happened. And when I share it, the response isn’t always what you might expect.

There’s always someone who says:

“Well, they saved my life.”
Or,
“That’s dangerous to say. Antidepressants help people.”

And I get it. I really do. This isn’t about denying someone else’s experience. But what I wish people understood is that neither is mine.

🧠 Two Things Can Be True at Once

Antidepressants can help some people.
Antidepressants can also harm people.

I was told they would help me not experience postpartum depression and help me to be a good mom. Instead, they numbed me into someone I didn’t recognize. Over time, I lost my energy, my spark, my ability to feel deeply connected to others and to myself. My body started reacting in ways that no one warned me about. My sleep was off. My libido disappeared. Depression and anxiety became part of my life. I started feeling emotionally flat and physically unwell.

Worse than all of that? I thought the problem was me. Not the medication. Not the dosage changes. Not the chemical shifts. Me.

It took years to put the pieces together.

🔍 What the Research Actually Shows

One of the reasons antidepressant withdrawal remains largely hidden is because it’s deeply underrecognized, even in the research that’s supposed to guide clinical care. A recent meta-analysis published in The Lancet Psychiatry found that about 15% of people, roughly one in six to seven, experience withdrawal symptoms, including severe ones, after stopping antidepressants. At face value, that number may seem low, but experts like Dr. Mark Horowitz and Dr. Joanna Moncrieff have pointed out significant flaws in how withdrawal is studied. Many of the 79 studies reviewed were short-term trials funded by drug manufacturers, most of which weren’t even designed to detect withdrawal in the first place. Some relied on tools like chart reviews or incidental reporting by doctors—despite strong evidence that clinicians often misdiagnose or overlook withdrawal entirely. As Horowitz notes, “If a study doesn’t systematically evaluate withdrawal effects, it’s bound to underdetect them.” In other words, the real prevalence of withdrawal harm may be far higher than reported, leaving countless people struggling in silence without the recognition or support they need.

If a treatment helps some but harms many—and those harms are rarely discussed—maybe it’s time we talk openly about both sides. Especially when so many of us are struggling in secrecy.

💬 When We Say “They Saved My Life”

That phrase is often said with urgency. Sometimes defensiveness. Sometimes fear. But it’s also said from a place of personal truth. I’m not here to erase that.

But here’s what I wish more people asked themselves before responding with that line:
Why does someone else’s pain feel like a threat to your story?

Because when I say I was harmed by antidepressants, I’m not saying no one should take them. I’m saying:
Let’s make room for all the stories. Especially the ones people are scared to tell.

😶‍🌫️ The Cost of Dismissing Someone’s Experience

When someone shares that a medication harmed them—whether it’s antidepressants, birth control, or anything else—they’re already being vulnerable. They’re speaking against the grain, often after years of being dismissed, gaslit, or told it’s all in their head.

To respond with “Well, they saved my life” in that moment is a shutdown, not a dialogue.

It makes people like me feel unsafe to speak up. And that’s a problem.

Because what if more people are being harmed than we realize?
What if someone reads this and finally connects the dots for their own health, their own relationships, their own story?

🧩 My Health. My Healing. My Truth.

I’m no longer on antidepressants. I made the decision to taper off slowly and safely, with support. And while it hasn’t been easy, it’s been worth it. I’ve reconnected to myself. I’ve found other ways to support my mental health. I’ve taken ownership of my healing.

But I’ve also had to grieve.

• Grieve the years I lost in a haze.

• Grieve the relationships that were affected.

• Grieve the parts of me that felt buried under chemistry.

This blog isn’t medical advice.
It’s not even anti-medication.
It’s pro-truth.

And if you’ve been harmed and feel like you can’t talk about it—I see you. I believe you. And your story matters.

🛑 Let’s Make Space for Every Story

If antidepressants saved your life, I’m genuinely glad you’re here. I want that for everyone.
But statistically, at least 1 in 6 people experience harm or withdrawal—and many are still silenced. Please don’t let your story become the reason someone else’s gets dismissed.

We can hold space for complexity.
We can make room for both harm and help.
And we can do it with compassion.

📚 Cited study: Henssler J, et al. (2024). Incidence of antidepressant discontinuation symptoms: a systematic review and meta-analysis. Lancet Psychiatry. thelancet.com+2pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov+2news-medical.net+2

🔗 Exploring holistic care options? Visit the National Association of Nutrition Professionals for trusted mental health and nutrition resources.