I have been grappling with depression and anxiety since childhood. Various factors have contributed to my struggles, from hormonal changes during adolescence to trauma in young adulthood, and even the complexities of pregnancy. Over time, I developed comorbidities stemming from these traumas, such as PTSD and panic disorder.

As someone who has long dealt with depression, I've faced challenges in functioning effectively in society. Although I'm currently managing better, I consider myself a late bloomer. My journey has been marked by significant functional disabilities, requiring time, hope, and, most importantly, ongoing treatment to learn how to cope.

Diagnosed with depression at 14, I have experimented with nearly every antidepressant available. I’ve tried Paxil, Zoloft, Cymbalta, Lexapro, Amitriptyline, Prozac, Celexa, Wellbutrin, and Effexor. Testing new medications is something I dread. Antidepressants typically take time to show results, but I noticed that most of the ones I tried had immediate adverse effects, with the exception of Wellbutrin, which I’ll elaborate on later.

One of the most alarming side effects I've experienced from antidepressants is an increased risk of suicidality. Some medications actually intensified these feelings. I began to identify a troubling pattern: drugs like Paxil, Prozac, Zoloft, and Celexa exacerbated my suicidal thoughts, while Lexapro induced extreme paranoia. Cymbalta was tolerable until it triggered panic attacks.

I felt a slight improvement on Effexor but eventually stopped due to its chaotic effects on my mental state. Amitriptyline made me feel strange and uneasy, while Wellbutrin appeared ineffective initially, leading me to believe it wasn't working. Whenever I informed my doctors that specific medications were unhelpful or made me feel odd, they suggested patience and consistency, or starting anew.

A significant barrier to my treatment was the inconsistent healthcare coverage I faced. Lacking parental support for insurance and not having the stability to secure a good job, my treatment was sporadic. My mental health was typically prioritized only during crises.

During my pregnancy, hormonal shifts heavily impacted my emotional well-being. Fortunately, I finally had consistent health insurance. My obstetrician referred me to a psychiatrist who seemed quite elderly. She listened to my history and prescribed Wellbutrin, which, for the first time, didn't make me feel odd on medication.

I expressed skepticism to my obstetrician, doubting the psychiatrist's competence based on her appearance. I thought that her cosmetic surgeries suggested she might have her own mental health challenges, which made me question her ability to assist me. However, my doctor encouraged me to trust her judgment, asserting that it would take time to see results.

I reluctantly agreed to continue treatment, but when my psychiatrist altered my medication, I found myself disheartened again. After having my son and later my daughter, I still felt overwhelmed, particularly when my son resisted bathing.

One day, after years of enduring an abusive marriage, I felt an alarming urge to lash out at my son. This prompted an important realization about my mental state and the need for professional help. I confided in my trusted obstetrician again, who reinstated me on Wellbutrin and urged me to see a psychiatrist.

I kept taking my medication despite feeling no immediate effects. Slowly, my perspective began to shift. I started recognizing my worth when looking in the mirror. I no longer viewed myself as worthless and began to see a capable individual with a college degree and creative talents.

As I gained confidence, I recognized my husband’s controlling behavior and acknowledged that our relationship had deteriorated. By then, we were merely cohabiting for the sake of our children, and he was openly engaging in extramarital affairs.

Eventually, I realized that Wellbutrin effectively managed my depression without side effects. My experience with mental health medications revealed significant differences in how they interacted with my brain. I learned that Wellbutrin, classified as an atypical antidepressant, worked on dopamine and norepinephrine receptors, unlike SSRIs that triggered suicidality for me.

This led me to a critical decision: I would never take another SSRI, no matter what a doctor advised. Despite my limited understanding of neuroscience, I knew I needed to advocate for my health based on my experiences. The last few years have been the most fulfilling of my life as I maintained access to consistent mental health treatment.

I found success in my professional life, climbing the corporate ladder while managing my mental health issues, including Major Depressive Disorder and generalized anxiety disorder. However, moving frequently posed challenges for my ongoing treatment, as mental illness still carries stigma, affecting access to care.

Upon relocating to Corpus Christi, I struggled to find a psychiatrist who accepted my insurance. Ultimately, I was fortunate to see a kind child psychiatrist who continued my existing medications. Later, when I moved to San Antonio, I managed to find a practitioner who continued my treatment regimen.

After returning to my hometown last October, I secured a fulfilling position at a respected university, but the transition brought mounting stress. I had to adapt to living alone with my daughter, while my son moved in with his father and I separated from my partner.

As I settled into my new life, I postponed seeking psychiatric care, relying on my remaining medication refills. However, by the time I made an appointment, my anxiety had escalated. I discussed my coping strategies and the need to manage my depression carefully, as it could have dire consequences.

Despite my concerns, the nurse practitioner suggested I try a new anti-anxiety medication called BuSpar. Although hesitant, I agreed to give it a shot, though I remained uncomfortable with anything affecting serotonin levels. Initially, I experienced some strange feelings but remained committed.

Over the weeks, I noticed heightened anxiety and confusion, which led to relationship strain. When I returned for a follow-up, my dosage was doubled, despite my reservations. I complied but soon spiraled into a state of distress.

One evening, feeling overwhelmed, I attempted suicide by overdose. Upon waking, I was horrified by my actions and fearful of the repercussions, especially regarding my job and family. I decided to confide in my cousin, who supported me through the aftermath.

Returning to my doctor, I reiterated my history with medications affecting serotonin, hoping the medical student present would understand the gravity of dismissing a patient's experiences. Ultimately, my doctor suggested we avoid treating my anxiety for now.

I requested a three-month prescription for Wellbutrin, which she hesitantly agreed to, providing two refills. This allowed me the time I needed to find a new provider while ensuring I had the medication that worked for me.