In Pursuit of a Challenging Life Made Easy

by Chris Foley

The circumstances that led to my experience with antidepressant medication are not unique to me. Rather, I’d wager these circumstances are underreported in military populations. I had reached a tipping point after years of restless sleep, near-constant anxiety, and a bitterness regarding my work. My efforts to self-medicate with expensive bourbon were not only ineffective, but counterproductive. After nearly two decades of deployments, train-ups, and schools, I was broken; mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I didn’t arrive lightly at the decision to explore medication. In fact, I viewed it as a measure of last resort. I have always preferred holistic approaches over pharmaceutical intervention, and this situation was no different. But, after years of sleep journals, breathing sessions, therapy, long walks, and other standard offerings, I capitulated.

The conventional wisdom surrounding Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors (SSRI) indicates that the medication is effective in treating depression and generalized anxiety, as well as other conditions. This class of drugs is non-addictive and non-narcotic, making them an easy choice for both providers and patients. Data collected by the CDC between 2015 and 2018 indicate that 13.2% of American adults over the age of 18 had used antidepressant medication within the last 30 days. These figures represent a 30 percent increase from the 2009 to 2010 reporting period, highlighting a significant uptick in the second half of the decade.

The anecdotal information I received from friends and coworkers that had used the medication varied significantly. Some reported a magical, effortless disappearance of symptoms, while others were not so fortunate. A small number couldn’t even say if the medication had any effect at all. These conflicting narratives prevented me from forming a bias in either direction. I tempered my hope for a positive outcome with an understanding that I might not get one.

While reviews from my professional and social circles were mixed, the psychiatrist’s opinion was quite straightforward. After asking three or four very generic questions and silently entering the answers into his computer, he was able to ascertain that I should have very positive results with an SSRI. Shockingly absent from the doctor/patient experience was any mention of side effects. I came away from the appointment with no indication that this medication had the potential to significantly impact my previously understood version of reality.

The first few days on the medication were among the most difficult experiences of my life. Routine activities felt noticeably foreign and distant. Conversations with others were clouded by an inarticulable sense of detachment from self, as if I were a spectator to my own interactions. These daytime effects were compounded by a period of severe insomnia. For several consecutive nights I experienced the same sense of detachment, unable to determine if I was asleep, awake, or somewhere in between.

Motivated by this initial period of shock, I decided to titrate my dosage in an attempt to regain a sense of normalcy. After five days of sleeplessness, confusion, and discomfort I began taking half of the originally prescribed dosage each morning. Whether due to the reduced dosage or simply becoming accustomed to the medication, I began to find a sense of equilibrium. As the profound side effects dissipated, I was able to more accurately assess what was now the new normal.

It didn’t take long to recognize some of the positive effects now present in the day to day. The overarching sense of doom and dread that was once the loudest noise in the room had gently transformed into a barely audible hum. The persistent fretting over future events and how they might unfold was now infrequent. But as I took inventory of the benefits, I also had a responsibility to acknowledge the disadvantages.

I was dull, emotionless, devoid of feeling, and absentminded. I found no joy in previously enjoyable activities, and this was troublesome. I can recall a period of two or three weeks in which all of my free time was spent lying in bed and watching documentaries; not because I enjoyed it, but because I couldn’t bring myself to do much else. This drastic reduction in quality of life was an outcome I’d sworn to avoid; the solution was worse than the problem.

The most impactful realization from this period of self-reflection is this: The inner voice that creates worry, panic, and fear is the same mechanism responsible for the rest of my personality. As the negative feedback loop faded into the background, so did the unique and positive aspects of self. The desire to create, the ability to feel triumph, and the capacity to excitedly daydream about the future had left me almost entirely. Each of us must carefully weigh which version of ourselves we prefer as we pursue contentedness and fulfillment.

This writing is not intended to be an indictment of psychiatric medication, nor is it an endorsement. As I watch more and more of my peers struggle under the weight of seemingly never-ending wars, my hope is that sharing this experience will encourage others to arrive at well-informed decisions regarding their own mental health treatment. There is no shortage of intervention modalities available to servicemembers and veterans, but their efficacy remains questionable.

The topic of veteran suicide has crept into mainstream reporting over the last several years, deservedly so. Despite renewed attention and focus on the issue, data from 2018 indicate the suicide rate in 18 to 34 year old veterans was nearly three times higher than that of their non-veteran peers. In addition to being shocking, these figures cast doubt on the benefits of available treatments.

As for me, I’ve chosen to live without medication and I have a newly discovered appreciation for the old me. I’ve returned to my “activities as medicine” protocols, and some of them are effective. I’ll probably never stop complaining about how I can’t sleep, and that’s fine. My perceived problems are complex and nuanced; they can’t be solved as easily as taking a pill. I’ve come to understand that I’m not in pursuit of an easy life; I’m in pursuit of a challenging life made easy by resilience, perseverance, and an indomitable spirit.

If you figure it out before I do, let me know.

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This first appeared in The Havok Journal on May 15, 2024.

Chris is a retired Army Special Forces NCO living in northeast Missouri, and he still hasn’t found whatever it is he’s looking for. His guitars don’t get played nearly as often as they once did, and that’s a shame. Chris can be reached at foleychris84@gmail.com

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.