Sam Hall@samhall404
1/ Thanks to @MikhailaFuller for allowing me to share my story. 🧵
My experience sits in the uncomfortable space between what patients are routinely told about antidepressants and what can, in many cases, actually unfold over time. It is not simply a story of adverse effects, it is a story about the consequences of incomplete information, overconfidence in simplified narratives and a medical culture that too often defaults to explanation rather than investigation when things go wrong.
I was prescribed the antidepressant Sertraline for situational panic attacks following a house fire when I was younger and remained on it for approximately 13 years. During that time, I was never meaningfully informed about the possibility of physiological dependence, nor about the potential difficulty of stopping the drug after long term use. The phrase “safe and effective” was presented as if it were a stable, universal truth, rather than a context dependent conclusion drawn from limited and biased data.
There was no discussion of what happens when the brain adapts to a drug over more than a decade. No acknowledgement that removing that drug might not be a neutral act. No mention of protracted withdrawal or that stopping could result in a severe and prolonged destabilisation of the nervous system. Informed consent, in any meaningful sense, was absent.
When I eventually came off the SSRI, it was done through a rapid doctor led taper that bore no relation to the duration of my use. What followed was not a return of my original symptoms, but the onset of something far more severe, complex, disabling and life changing.
Almost immediately, I began to experience intense and persistent surges of physiological anxiety and panic. These were not thoughts or worries in the conventional sense. They were full body events; overwhelming waves of adrenaline that arose without psychological trigger, accompanied by a profound sense of internal threat. They were not responsive to reasoning, reassurance or standard psychological strategies because they were not primarily psychological in origin.
Alongside this, I developed widespread neurological and sensory disturbances. I experienced constant “electric” sensations throughout my body, moving unpredictably through my arms, legs, hands and across my head and face. These were often painful, presenting as burning, tingling or sharp nerve like sensations. My muscles began to twitch involuntarily, with fasciculations and spasms becoming a daily occurrence. At times, my facial muscles would contract and twitch without warning.
One of the most severe and distressing symptoms I experienced was akathisia. It is often described clinically as restlessness, but that description is profoundly inadequate. What I experienced was an intense, unrelenting inner agitation combined with a powerful urge to escape my own body, alongside a compulsion to move that made stillness feel intolerable. At its worst, it generated intense suicidal urges, not from hopelessness, but from a desperate need to escape the sensation itself. It was not psychological distress in any conventional sense, it was a physical state that overrode any attempt at control. It is difficult to overstate how severe and destabilising this symptom has been for three years.
Sleep became almost impossible at times. I went through prolonged periods of insomnia, sometimes sleeping only three hours across several days. When I did manage to fall asleep, I was frequently jolted awake by hypnic jerks; sudden, violent awakenings accompanied by adrenaline surges. The cumulative effect of this sleep deprivation was profound, amplifying every other symptom and eroding my ability to cope.
Cognitively, I experienced significant impairment. I developed …
prescribed-harm.com/stories/story-…
