When my doctor kept talking about how terrible it is to go off of my antidepressant, I didn't think it would be so bad.
I am emotionally attached to perfume bottles. I swear that I’ll use those last two blobs of conditioner. I can’t get rid of a shirt I’ve never worn that my mother gave me for Christmas in 2004.
I decided to get off of Paxil, the anti-anxiety drug I’ve been on–off and on–for the last 10 years. And let me tell you, withdrawal is a bitch.