I think it’s been about two months since I took my last tiny sliver of Paxil, and I think it may be over soon.

I don’t have any of the electric-shock sensations shooting through my head and my eyes anymore. What I’m experiencing now is still somewhat severe, but it’s gradually becoming less severe, and I think it may be the last of the withdrawal effects.

Mostly all I have now is an extreme sensitivity to light and sound, which is similar to a hangover sensitivity, except it’s there all the time, not just in the morning. (Note: These are still debilitating withdrawal effects, but I think they’re the last of them.)

The other thing I have, probably related to the painful sensitivity to light, is bad headaches, like the kind of headaches that come from caffeine withdrawal; all the Tylenol in the world won’t make them go away. It’s an ache that reaches every part of my body, not just my head (my bones are aching). It’s a constant drag on my energy — but a walk in the park next to the electrical sensations. Sometimes the headaches get so bad that I become a little dizzy or disoriented, but that doesn’t happen often.

From everything I know about withdrawal (Paxil withdrawal, Valium withdrawal, heroin withdrawal, etc.), this is probably the end of the line — mainly because I’ve experienced every other withdrawal symptom anyone could have. There’s just nothing left to go through.

I think this may be progress. If things continue to go the way they are, except for the psychological scars, which are significant, I should be able to return to the land of living within a few weeks. I hope.

If the promised land really is in sight, if that’s really what I’m looking at right now, I probably won’t be around for awhile once I get back on my feet, mainly because I just want to live and make up for all the months that were stolen from me while I was going through withdrawal (which began last July; that’s how much of my life this junk has taken from me).

If I finally am getting better, one thing I will do before I take on the world again is set up a website which will contain all the significant post I have made to paxilprogress.org, and all the informative responses that I received from them. Looking back over these messages, I find that they capture the history of this experience better than any story I have the energy to write. I have detailed records of my experience from the first day of withdrawal up to the present day, and I think it may provide an excellent picture of what the experience is really like. Most people probably won’t have as hard of a time as I have had, but that’s what makes it valuable. It’s an accurate history of just about everything that could happen to someone.

This experience has completely consumed six months of my life. The end is in sight.

First response:

As I read your post, I started to cry. I’ve been off Paxil almost two weeks now after starting the long withdrawal process this past September, and what a ride it has been. I think I’ve been so busy with Christmas/New Year’s holidays that it hasn’t sunk in that I’m off the Paxil. I still have a half of a bottle of liquid Paxil in the medicine cabinet. I threw away any pills I had left a while ago. Maybe I’ll have some sort of ceremony in the bathroom while flushing the last of the Paxil down the toilet, farewell, good riddens.

Paxil has no hold on me now and it’s nice, but it’s sad to have had to go through all of that. Maybe I need to grieve for the “lost time” in my life due to this medicine, and then get on with life and vow to never get myself in such a mess again.

Good luck. I’m so glad the worst is over for you too.

Postscript – February 27th, 2001: In this post, I said: “If the promised land really is in sight, if that’s really what I’m looking at right now, I probably won’t be around for awhile once I get back on my feet, mainly because I just want to live and make up for all the months that were stolen from me while I was going through withdrawal…” A month and a half later: Yes, it was the promised land, but getting right back on the horse again wasn’t possible. I wasn’t, and still am not, able to return to the quality of life I had before Paxil. After seven months of not being able to do anything with my life, I want to jump back into things full force — I want to make up for lost time — and I can’t. (Take note: I hate this.) It’s like having a Ferrari sitting in the garage for the past seven months; the garage door is open now, but I’m not allowed taking it out on the highway. I find myself now fighting against a depression, because as much as I want to take the car out on the highway, I know I’d probably lose control and crash it into a telephone pole the second I got out there. Learning how to take it slow — man, this is something I need lessons in, especially at a time like this. I want to get right back into things. And I can’t. This is a huge lesson for me: As much as I want to get on with my life, I can’t rush it. (Deep sigh.)

I’ve always been able to deal with the emotional symptoms (e.g., the suicidal feelings) easier than the other symptoms (e.g., the electrical surges). The electrical sensations just about drive me insane. More than any of the other symptoms, they’ve made it impossible to be me and to do what I love to do.

I have felt on-and-off suicidal since my first cold turkey experience in early July. I still haven’t completely shaken the feeling, but I can tell you that it subsides to the point where it’s just a faint echo of what you’re feeling now. You’ll remember it, and in a sense it’ll still be there, but you won’t feel any urge to go through with it.

The only way to get through now it is don’t kill yourself (simple, right?). Your body and your brain are going through one serious motherload of a neurochemical adaptation. You have to give yourself a chance to get through it and to go through it. As you know, there are some sudden benefits to getting off the Paxil — I’d say focus on those right now and enjoy them as much as you can. And the next thing you know, you’ll be feeling crappy, but you won’t be feeling suicidal. And that’s progress. And gradually everything gets better. That’s the only thing I can say with some confidence.

It’s been a long dragged out experience, but a little tiny bit at a time, I’ve gotten better. So don’t kill yourself and you will too. And don’t forget to take plenty of B Complex.

First response:

I am so excited that I can hear from people who are having similar experiences. Five days ago I decided to quit taking 20mg of Paxil. I did minimal weaning, but I had no medical guidance because I have been stealing Paxil from my mother. Anyway, I attend a prestigious university which is very demanding and I cannot, in no way, get any studying done. I’ve only been taking the drug for about four months and after feeling like an emotional zombie, decided I had enough.

However, these tremors and vertigo accompanied with fits of crying is making me nuts. My roommates and supposedly closest friends have no idea how bad this feels. All I wanted was someone to talk to who could relate to my experience at school and they instead turn their heads and go out for a night on the town. They are mad at me for taking the Paxil without a prescription, but where were they a year ago when I sank into my interminable depression? Where were they when they could have stood up for me in my terrible circumstance?

Thus, I’ve come home (thankfully close to school) and I’ve been bedridden for about three days. My parents think I’m lazy and I lash out at them with a newly acquired temper. No one understands! When are the symptoms going to end, and is this paranoia a result of the withdrawal or is there truth in my perceptions? I don’t know. I’m just rambling to pass time during these periods of insomnia.

Second response:

Yes! I remember that the one and only suicidal thought in my life happened after I accidentally went cold turkey off the Paxil. It is right back there as a faint memory but a very unpleasant one. I was at the sink washing some dishes and it felt like my brain was swelling and then the thought that I should get a gun and shoot myself in the head came and it wouldn’t go away, and then I began fighting with myself, wondering what was real and what wasn’t. That is the day I ran to the drugstore and got a refill on my Paxil only because I couldn’t really figure what else it was from.

From Jane:

For the last 10 days I have been alternating between 20mg and 15mg. Wednesday night I came home from work and after dinner got very dizzy. I absolutely panicked and took 20mg instead of the 15mg I should have taken. Felt better shortly thereafter. Now, I am really worried about being able to get off this damn drug. I went on it due to anxiety and dizziness. How will I ever get off it if this is a withdrawal symptom? I took 15mg last night and feel fine now.

My response:

I don’t mean to belittle what you’re going through, because I think I know what you’re going through, but so what? So you took 20mg instead of 15mg. Big whoop. When I began weaning by alternating, the same thing happened to me a few times — I had to take the higher dose instead of the lower one. Then I felt better and was ready to move on.

The best way to get through this crap is to play it by ear. Don’t lower the dosage until you’re ready to lower it — and you’re not going to feel ready precisely every 7 days. None of this crap runs on clockwork. I don’t think you should feel discouraged because you had to take a 20 instead of a 15. It’s not a setback. You may have to take the lower dose every 3rd day — who knows? You work it out as you go a long. I was winging it the whole time I was weaning, and now I’m off it completely and I’m never going back. It can be done.

As far as I can tell, there is nothing consistent about this process. Throughout my weaning, I had days where I felt great. They were rare, but they were there. Most of the time I felt like crap. Then I had my window of heightened vitality about a month ago where, at least sexually, I felt like I was a teenager again. That lasted for about 10 days or so. Then I was completely impotent. Oh joy oh bliss. About four days ago, I didn’t have a single brain zap; my eyes weren’t heavy, nothing — and my spirits immediately got better, despite still being impotent. Then two days ago I got hit with the brain zaps like I’d never had them before. It was as if my body was letting it all go with one final surge. (Just a theory.) But at the same time, the impotence disappeared. I don’t feel like a teenager again, but I’m back to normal, or at least getting there.

There’s no predicting how things are going to progress. It’s a roller coaster to say the least — and that’s one of the hardest things about it, that it’s such an up and down experience. But it does get better. Sometimes it’s such a slow process that it’s hard to tell if anything is happening. But in the long run at least, there’s progress. You might not notice it yet, but as you continue with the alternating, you’ll eventually see that you’re getting somewhere. Don’t let the inconsistencies and the slowness of the process discourage you.

I was in complete control of my weaning off Paxil. My doctor was only there to supervise the process and to give me a prescription of Xanax when I needed it. He suggested I go down by 10mg, but I said no way. I had tried it cold turkey and it nearly killed me, and I knew whatever I did, I wasn’t going to rush it. So I went down by 5mg every two weeks or so, and it was a relatively smooth ride.

If your doctor had you go down by 10mg at a time, it’s probably because the “current medical literature” suggests that he do so. In other words, he’s just reading out of book. The book says do this and he does what the book tells him to do. But, unfortunately, those books don’t take into account individual variations — the fact that everyone is different.

Personally, I think a 10mg drop is always too much. It’s a guaranteed rough ride if you ask me.

If you just got down to zero after being at 10mg and you’re feeling dizzy, etc., I’d take 5mg for awhile, until you feel ready to go down to zero.

When I got down to zero, which was a few weeks ago now, many of the symptoms lingered, especially the dizziness and the electrical sensations. On the two or three days in which I couldn’t hack it, despite the Xanax, I took a tiny little piece of Paxil, and it helped. I’m sure I could have roughed it out, but allowing myself to take just a little bit made the journey a little more bearable. At no time did I go back to taking the Paxil every day, or become dependent on it again, and now that I’m completely off it, the road is still a bit rough, but I’m a thousand times better off now than when I was withdrawing from the Paxil.

Your doctor didn’t lower your dosage to 5mg probably, first of all, because GlaxoSmithKline doesn’t officially make a 5mg pill, which, in your doctor’s mind (and the minds of many other doctors) means that 5mg isn’t a therapeutic dose. So it probably doesn’t even enter his mind to prescribe 5mg daily. Secondly, your doctor most likely just doesn’t know any better.

If you think you should be on 5mg before going down to zero, do it.

I don’t think the paresthesia/electrical sensations in my eyes and my head are caused by anxiety and stress. I had plenty of anxiety and stress before I went on and subsequently tried to get off Paxil, and it’s NEVER felt like this. I have had tension headaches in the past, but what I’m experiencing now is something completely different altogether.

The zaps are the cause of the anxiety and stress, not the other way around.

This isn’t an argument to me. It’s a statement of fact. I tried getting off the Paxil and immediately, for the first time in my life, began experiencing the brain zaps. This is the most obvious, simple, straight forward equation. It’s a neurochemical reaction that’s happening in my brain because of this drug. If I’m feeling any anxiety, depression or stress, 95% of it is coming from this experience of trying to get off this drug.

Overall, I have been physically and mentally healthy my whole life. My doctor keeps asking me, referring to the brain zaps and the electrical heaviness in my eyes, “Are you sure you’ve never experienced anything like this before?” I’ve never taken an anti-depressant before Paxil, I’ve never “experimented” with LSD, cocaine or anything stronger than pot, and when I did, I was never a dopehead. I’ve never been an alcoholic. I don’t have a history of this sort of thing. I have no doubt that these electrical sensations in my head are caused by the Paxil.

I wasn’t feeling any stress or anxiety until I tried getting off the Paxil, and what I’m experiencing now is not due to any pre-existing condition that I know of. I may be feeling depressed, and I may be experiencing some anxiety — but my brain goes into an electrical seizure every time I move too suddenly or move my eyes too fast or have any kind of bright light shone in my face. Is not a little stress and anxiety a normal reaction to such a disturbing experience? I’d say it is. (Some people may say to this, “Get over it. ” But I’ll get over it once it stops.)

When my doctor prescribed me the Paxil, he didn’t inform me that anything like this could happen — because he didn’t know. GlaxoSmithKline knew all along but deliberately kept this information from the medical community. They deliberately misinformed everyone. Having experienced this injustice as intimately as anyone could, I find it very disturbing. If I knew someone was clearly getting away with murder, and the murder of a loved one, I might find it just as disturbing. Anyone who doesn’t recognize this as an injustice has got their head up their ass.

Under these circumstances, there’s plenty of reason to feel extreme levels of anger, frustration, depression, anxiety, and so on. The point is: I didn’t start off like this. Paxil did this to me. Paxil has taken away five months of my life (so far). I have been physically and mentally debilitated by this experience — in trying to get off this drug. I know what has happened to me. I’m not just having a string of bad days at work. Unless one genuinely does have a history of this sort of thing, I’d say it’s naïve to think that this is caused by everyday stress. No way, sister.

This is a neurological pathology brought on by Paxil withdrawal. Having electrical surges kicking in from behind my eyes is in no way caused by stress and anxiety. It’s the other way around. Speaking only for myself, I don’t have a single doubt about it.

First response:

Oh, the zaps are definitely Paxil related. I have NO doubt about that. The first time I got them was when I missed a couple of doses. I got “the flu,” but I kept telling people I’ve never had a flu bug like this that made me unable to move my head without — can’t remember what word I used at the time, but — a zap.

I have told friends who know what I am going through that a zap is like touching an electrical fence. Except, that instead of touching it with your hand, it is like the wire is touching your brain. That is where it starts, and then it goes down your back, front and down your arms and fingers. I can have one, or three in a row.

Second response:

I totally agree with you! I have had migraine headaches in the past, but these are different! Sometimes I think it is just another sinus headache, but it feels different. It’s in the eyes and there’s a vertigo feeling. The electrical impulses in the brain are misfiring. It only makes sense if you think about it.

I am still on my miserable 7.5mg a day, but I am beginning to feel (I think). Today while driving home from work I began to feel sad and I started to cry. I was thinking about some unresolved issues that were the impetus to me taking Paxil in the first place. At first I was depressed about feeling depressed, but I began to realize, “Hey… I am feeling again! This is a good sign, not a bad sign!”

Paxil is a mind controlling drug. No better way than to turn us into Zombies by shorting out our brains. Accident?… I wonder!

Thanks! You always make me think, and just at the right time. Keep the information coming. It makes me want to keep fighting! I needed that tonight!

Third response:

I feel the same about the electrical charges. They can be horrible. They make it impossible to concentrate. At times I was afraid to move my head. One day on a weekend I layed on the bed and with my eyes closed all day. Every time I would open my eyes the charges would surge. If you haven’t had them it is difficult to explain to anyone. Concentration was nil, along with moving my head.

When I mentioned this to the doctor he looked dumbfounded — he has been in practice as a psychiatric doctor for years. His reply was that he had heard of people getting them in their legs. I knew I was in trouble then.

I do not know if other SSRIs do this when withdrawing. I would have liked for him to have had experience with SSRIs first hand so he would have had a better understanding of my situation. I told him this in a very nice why. He grinned. Yeah, funny.

Half these doctors need to listen a little more to the patient and forget what the drug representative tells them over a cocktail.

Fourth response:

You’re right. The electrical charges surging through our brains are NOT stress-related. I swore that I was either being electrocuted or having a seizure. And there were times when I swore that my braining was FRYING! Taking Paxil is the worst thing I have ever done in my life. This has been three years of hell. My life will NEVER be the same.

I’m feeling better today. I was going to say much better, but that’s probably pushing it. I got up at 7:30 this morning to help a friend move some things into a new office. I haven’t been sleeping lately, so I was expecting to be tired, grumpy and out of sorts when I got up, and I was. Never too hungry that early in the morning, I had a slice of toast with honey, my usual handful of vitamin supplements, a bottle of water and off I went — hit the road in the pickup truck (someone else driving).

I immediately got dizzy and off balance lifting things and walking up and down the stairs. I wasn’t long popping my first Xanax (electrical sensations were beginning to stir behind my eyes). It took a couple hours to do the work, then I had soup and a bun from doughnut shop. By the time I got home about an hour or so later, I felt good. Not nearly as lousy as I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks, on-and-off suicidal and all that.

This wanting to live stuff is tricky business.

Today’s my 32nd day of weaning. Still levelled off at 10mg.

Two days ago I was feeling like a zombie. But since then, things have been different. The next day, just before I went to bed, I began to feel better. And all day today I’ve been feeling almost normal. (It feels almost abnormal to feel normal again. Weird.)

About an hour ago I began to feel a bit of a headache, and that’s the only possible symptom of withdrawal I’ve experienced today. I haven’t felt dizzy or off balance or any of the usual things. I think the withdrawal is still happening, but it’s amazing how when you’ve experienced the worst of it (i.e., cold turkey withdrawal), the degree of the withdrawal can be measured down to the slightest fraction. Anyone notice that? If cold turkey withdrawal (namely the brain zaps) is a 10 in severity, then what I’ve experienced today is a 1, maybe a 2. It’s what we who have lived through this junk call a Good Day.

In terms of my diet and exercise and the usual things I do to keep the electrical surges at bay, I haven’t done anything different in the past two days. Perhaps it was just my body and brain finally adjusting to the 10mg level.

But I have another theory. It’s more of a curiosity, I suppose. Not much of a theory, but it’s something I’ve noticed a few times since I began the weaning process. Until now I just didn’t think it was plausible. But who knows. This is what happened:

The night before last, I wrote a short letter to a friend of mine. It was a calm, quiet letter, short but well written. And here’s the thing: I felt good about it. Understand now that writing is the one activity I get more fulfillment from than any other. So even a short letter like this after two weeks of not being able to write a coherent word (Swiss Cheese Brain Syndrome I heard someone say) — it felt good. It was a small thing, but it felt like I’d actually done something. The first time in weeks I didn’t feel so useless.

The satisfaction from having done something with a bit of purpose seemed to lift my spirits in a subtle sort of way. I just… felt better.

Then I go to bed and this morning I wake up, and immediately before I even have breakfast or take my Paxil, I feel like writing about something. So I sit down and write about it… until lunch time. Normally, I’d be weak and fatigued from going this long without eating. But I sat there slowly writing without noticing the time or even if I was hungry. I’ve had to take a small dose of Xanax in the morning for the past week because of the withdrawal I’ve been experiencing. But this morning I didn’t have to (today’s the first day since I’ve had the Xanax that I haven’t had to take any).

So I woke up this morning and managed to do something which I found fulfilling. And having done some writing, I felt better again. But what I mean by that is that my energy level went up. My neurotransmitters started transmitting on just the right frequency or whatever you want to call it — but I felt good. The severity of my withdrawal was significantly decreased.

And if something can decrease the severity of Paxil withdrawal, even if it’s a bit of a stretch, it’s worth mentioning. I’ve noticed it before but didn’t say anything because I thought it was just coincidence. But I’m not so sure if it is.

A few weeks ago I had a moment of clarity where I was able to write a few excellent paragraphs, and the satisfaction of that feeling immediately cleared my head of the usual heavy-headedness of the withdrawal. There was also another occasion when I was told good news about someone close to me, and on hearing that good news, within seconds of hearing it, for an hour or so afterwards most of my withdrawal symptoms became a hell of a lot easier to bear. They were still there but with much less intensity.

I read in Oliver Sacks’s book Awakenings of Parkinsonian patients whose symptoms did not progress in severity as long as they had support of their family, something to look forward to, relationships and experiences of some kind that provided them with a sense of personal fulfillment and meaning. Take away these relationships and the feeling of fulfillment these experiences provide, and the patient would immediately fall back into severe Parkinsonian tremors.

I believe that perhaps I have experienced something akin to this. Sacks speaks of the power of a compassionate human touch to bring a patient out of the painful physicality of their disease. There is no medical explanation for it. But it’s as if the disturbances in the brain, at least temporarily, cease to exist, marking a profound change in, I suppose, the quality of consciousness.

There have been times since my initial withdrawal experience in July when I have clearly experienced an immediate and beneficial neurochemical change due to something happening to me psychologically. Medical doctors don’t like hearing this kind of thing (and those jerks at GlaxoSmithKline would probably take this as evidence that it was “all in my head” in the first place), but I can think of several occasions in which I would normally have had to take a Xanax to feel such an alleviation of my Paxil withdrawal. Instead, I experienced something spiritual, if you want to call it that, that made me feel good, and the withdrawal effects became less intense.

In the black cloud of Paxil withdrawal, there are these little rays of sunshine and warmth to be had. You just have to put yourself in the way of them I think. It’s just a theory, but there it is.

P.S., It’s very possible I’m losing track of the days. I say it’s day 32 of my weaning off Paxil, but I might be off plus or minus one day.

Well, today it my 20th day of weaning off Paxil. I am now down to 10mg, alternating with 15mg for three days (today happens to be a 10mg day), and for whatever reason, I’m feeling okay. I occasionally have a mild tension around my head, but no headaches, no feeling like the brain zaps are just around the corner, hardly anything.

Easily for the past three days I’ve been walking around holding on to the walls, grabbing onto something every time I stood up, not making any sudden movements (especially with my eyes), avoiding loud noises, being extremely careful walking up and down stairs, and absolutely not driving the car.

Then around 10 o’clock last night as I’m watching the Olympics, I start getting tired, and as I do my head clears up and I don’t have any symptoms for the rest of the night.

Then when I woke up this morning, my head was still clear — but seeing how everything usually kicks in about an hour after I get up, I wasn’t very hopeful.

But, to my surprise, I’ve been okay all day. I was not expecting to feel like this today. I picked up a Xanax prescription from my doctor today to help “take the edge off” if the withdrawal got any worse — and worse is definitely what I was expecting — but so far so good.

Tomorrow may be completely different, but what I’m experiencing now is definitely a surprise. I’m still moving slowly and cautiously, but I almost feel like I don’t really need to.

Go figure. Who’d expect to have a good day when they get down to 10mg? Not me.

Preface – February 5th, 2001: This is the first post where I included one of the responses to what I’d written. After this I began to keep a better record of all the conversations and exchanges that took place on the Paxil-withdrawal forums.

Thursday, September 28th, 2000. In response to a post at a Paxil-withdrawal forum [similar to paxilprogress.org]:

Everything I know tells me that alternating 20mg/10mg of Paxil is too much of a drop. The most anyone should alternate or lower a dosage is by 5mg. If you stick to that regiment, it should work. I’m down to 10mg right now, and so far so good.

I told my doctor last week, “You better give me something just in case the brain zaps start creeping up on me, because I am NOT going through that again.” He gave me a prescription for Xanax (aka Alprazolam) which he said is often used to get people through withdrawal from many neurochemical dependencies. No more than twice I day I’ve taken at the most half of a 0.25mg pill (very small amount; sometimes I take a quarter of a pill), and it allows me to walk up and down stairs without experiencing too much dizziness. I am nowhere near 100%, but I’m semi-functional, which I consider an accomplishment.

So by alternating dosages by a maximum of 5mg and taking a little Xanax to “take the edge off,” I’m getting through it. When you try weaning again, the slow route might be the way to go.

Someone said, “I guess what is so frustrating is I can’t stand it that this drug has so much control over my body.”

You can put that on the top of my list too. You spend a good chunk of your life working out all the kinks of your personality, learning what works for you and what doesn’t, until you get to the point where things are pretty good. You’re more or less doing what you like and you’re pretty much a self-actualized happy camper. Some people even look at you with admiration. It was a bumpy ride, but you finally got it together and you know it, and it feels good.

Then you take a little pink pill called Paxil — and you can take the dignity of everything you’ve accomplished in your life and kiss it goodbye. The foundation of your personality turns to sand. Everything goes to hell and everyone sees you at your worst.

It’s what I hate the most. Absolutely the most. I’m not sure if I could live through something like it again. There’s no dignity to any of this.

Just had to say that’s one thing I really hate. Can I hear an Amen!

Response:

I started out at 2.5mgs the first two weeks, 5mgs the next two weeks. From the first day, I didn’t like the way I felt. Everything seemed unreal and unworldly. The doctor said the side effects would pass and that I should up my dose to 10mgs, which I did for the entire next month.

What side effects did I have? All of them — dry mouth, dizziness, urination problems, nightmares, zaps, brain slosh. You name it. When I again complained to the doctor, I was told I wasn’t even taking a “therapeutic dose” and that I really needed to take 20mgs.

For the third month, I did take 20mgs, but the problems did not go away — in fact, they intensified, so I stopped taking it altogether without a clue as to what lay ahead. Five days later, the withdrawal hit hard and fast, and I was completely debilitated with dizziness, zaps, vertigo, etc. My doctor was no help at all, insisting still that I should continue with 20mgs, or even go higher.

I was so ill that I called the pharmacist and he said I would have to go back on at least 10mgs and wean from there, which is what I did. I took 10mgs for a week or so, then went down to 5. At that point, I was shaving the tablets with a razor blade every day. When I got down to about 2.5mgs (where I stayed for a month), I went cold turkey. But the side effects persisted, lessening in some respects, but never completely going away. They gradually diminished over the next two years, but I’m still left with a host of weird glitches, word retrieval problems and memory loss being the two most debilitating, as well as light and sound sensitivity.

I thought that this was just me — until I really began to network with others whose problems also had not subsided, even though they had been off either Prozac or Paxil for months, and sometimes years. While most people eventually fully recover from the experience, there appears to be a segment of SSRI users whose recovery takes much longer. How long? There’s no way to know. There are people on the Prozac board who claim it took them five years to get back to their old selves. And this is my big problem with these drugs. There just doesn’t seem to be any way to predict who will have no withdrawals, who will have mild withdrawals, and who will have protracted symptoms. It appears to be totally unrelated to dosage, or length of time on the med. I’m really happy that these drugs have helped many people, but if I knew then what I know now, I would have never taken it at all. Nor would I wish my experience on anybody.

So, I guess it comes down to that saying “caveat emptor” — buyer beware [although we often place too much trust in our doctors for them to be aware, when clearly they're no more aware of the dangers than we are]. Everyone who takes Paxil (especially) has to weigh the short-term benefit against the possible eventual withdrawals. And this is something that the doctors don’t prepare you for — at least mine didn’t, and if you’ve read other stories, there is a haunting similarity.

P.S. (Sept. 2006): The added words in square brackets after “buy beware” are mine. Before I’m done re-posting Paxil Free, I think I’ll have to expand the Basic Facts list to include word retrieval problems. The person who responded wrote: “[The withdrawal effects] gradually diminished over the next two years, but I’m still left with a host of weird glitches, word retrieval problems and memory loss being the two most debilitating, as well as light and sound sensitivity.” As I mentioned on the first day of my re-posting of all this stuff, it’s been 6 years now and I still have problems expressing myself because I can’t think of the word I want to say — and I’m not the only one to experience these “glitches” (which is a good word for it). I also confuse written words so often these days that it’s embarrassing. Words like your and you’re; were and we’re; there and their. I have completely given up on ever trying to remember whether I want to use affect or effect. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m going to get it wrong at least half the time now. It’s kind of depressing, especially for anyone who writes for a living… Is it possible to retrain my brain, to relearn all these words again? What the hell happened there? How did so many words and their meanings get wiped from my memory? Kind of disturbing, isn’t it?

According to what I’ve been reading, if you took at least 20mg of Paxil for more than 4 months, then it will take you at least two months to wean yourself to zero without experiencing any major withdrawal symptoms.

I know that everyone is different, and I’ve read of people who managed to go from 20mg to zero is less then a month. Whippee for them, but I’m more inclined to think that that’s the exception, not the rule.

The rule is: GO SLOW. Everyone, it seems, who does not wean slowly, usually experiences more severe and prolonged withdrawal symptoms.

I don’t think you’re going crazy. You just may have gone off the Paxil too fast. And you may have to go back to a comfortable dose and then gradually wean yourself off the Paxil — slowly.

Not knowing your exact background, that’s my best guess.

Besides weaning slowly, there’s a ton of another things you can do to make it a smoother ride. There are vitamin supplements like B-complex, C, E, Gamma Oil; there’s the elimination of nicotine, alcohol, caffeine and white sugar from your diet; there’s daily moderate exercise; there’s staying away from negative people; there’s music; there’s sunshine; there’s soy products; there’s fruits and vegetables; there’s ginseng tea and ginko, whatever-it’s-called — there’s all kinds of good stuff that can make a difference.

I’ve done all of the above (even the soy products; ugh), and I’m down to 10mg now and haven’t had a single brain zap. I get a little wobbly on my legs once in a while, but no electrical current firing off every time I move my eyes — none of that crap.

Levelling off at 15mg for 10 days was a rough ride (I had headaches and extreme dizziness), but, surprisingly, things have gotten better since I got down to 10mg, and I think it might be because I’m eating all the time. It’s a funny thing to describe, but I can feel it in my brain when I’m hungry. The second I begin to get hungry, my synapses go nuts and I immediately grab for whatever’s closest, be it an apple, an orange, cold meatloaf, moldy cheese and stale crackers — as long as I get in it my mouth within a few minutes after I begin to feel hungry (and it’s not even hunger; it’s an instant starvation that requires immediate quenching), then I seem to be okay. I get the feeling that by putting some kind of food in my mouth every 90 minutes (usually a piece of fruit), I’m warding off those lovely brain zaps.

I don’t know if any of this helps, but this can be done without going crazy. I’m not exactly whistling a jaunty tune here, but I’m getting through it — by eating nothing but good stuff, and weaning slowly.

Good luck.

Postscript – February 5th, 2001: In this post, I said, “…it will take you at least two months to wean yourself to zero without experiencing any major withdrawal symptoms.” Having now survived it, I would say it takes at least three months. Anyone who can do it in two months, and have a smooth ride, is doing extremely well. At the time I wrote this post, I mostly had extreme dizziness, having to always grip onto something whenever I tried walking around the house, and I had bad headaches.