In the spring of 2013, under the guidance of a new healthcare provider, Effexor was added to my existing regimen of three medications. Her thoughtful and reassuring approach reignited my hope that, with careful consideration, we could identify a treatment path that truly supported my wellness.

Given the debilitating side effects I had experienced with previously prescribed SSRIs, she introduced a different class of antidepressants: serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitors (SNRIs). With confidence and conviction, she shared why Effexor, in particular, might be a better fit for my physiology.

My provider noted that I was just very sensitive to medications, and I needed to take a very small dosage for it to work without negative effects.

To achieve this, I was advised to open the capsule and carefully remove a portion of its contents. In pursuit of consistency and safety, I meticulously counted just five beads per day.

For the month of May, I adhered to this regimen with hope and determination. Yet despite these efforts, I could no longer take the physical and mental pain this medication was causing. By early June, my provider discontinued Effexor and transitioned my care to a new medication—Zyprexa.

In hindsight, this period resembled a game of roulette—medication roulette—where each new prescription felt like a spin of the wheel, hoping for relief, fearing the consequences.