Why Are SSRIs Bad? The Hidden Costs of Feeling "Fine

The promise vs. the price: what SSRIs really do

Well, let’s start with this—I was prescribed an SSRI (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor) in my early 20s after a pretty rough stretch. I didn’t sleep, I felt empty all the time, and honestly, I was desperate for anything to feel like myself again. My doctor handed me that prescription with a calm voice and a comforting smile like, “Here you go. This will help.”

At first, yeah—it did help. That constant panic melted away. I slept better. I could breathe.

But then came the fog.

The emotional flatline no one warns you about

I didn’t feel sad anymore, sure. But I didn’t really feel anything. No excitement, no joy. Not even during stuff I used to love—like sketching, which used to be my escape. It was like life got put on mute.

And here’s the weirdest thing: I didn’t even notice at first. It creeps in slowly. You start skipping things you care about, people stop hearing your laugh, and one day you realize—you’re not depressed anymore, but you’re not alive either.

Side effects they downplay (or totally skip over)

Physical symptoms that mess with daily life

SSRIs often come with a long list of side effects, and trust me, they’re not just “possible”—they’re probable. For me, it started with nausea, then came the dizziness, then… the other stuff nobody talks about.

Yep, we’re going there: sexual dysfunction. Honestly? That part sucked. (And it made dating a nightmare. Imagine trying to explain that on a third date.)

Oh, and let’s not forget the weight gain. I gained nearly 20 pounds in six months—without any real change in diet. My friend Lila had the same issue. She told me over coffee once, “I don’t even recognize myself in the mirror anymore. But my doctor says that’s normal.”

Cognitive and emotional dulling

There’s even research showing that SSRIs can impair cognitive functions—like memory and attention. It’s not like you turn stupid overnight, but... I did find myself rereading the same paragraph five times sometimes, like my brain just couldn’t click into gear.

Withdrawal is real (and it’s brutal)

"Discontinuation syndrome" feels like withdrawal to me

Okay, so this part really hit me hard. I wanted to quit after about a year. But oh boy, it was not simple. The brain zaps, the anxiety spikes, the vertigo—honestly, it felt worse than the depression I started with. I thought I was losing it.

My doctor said, “Just taper slowly, you’ll be fine.” But even tapering over weeks, I had nights where I was literally crawling across my apartment because I couldn’t stand upright. That’s not “mild discomfort,” that’s hell.

And again—almost no one told me this was even a possibility when I started.

They don’t fix the root cause (and that’s a problem)

SSRIs are designed to manage symptoms, not to cure the underlying issue. They tinker with your brain chemistry to help you cope, sure—but they don’t resolve trauma, stress, burnout, or any of the real stuff driving your pain.

Actually, a therapist I once saw (shoutout to Mark, if you're reading this) told me something that stuck: “Medications can give you the space to do the deeper work. But they can’t do the work for you.” That flipped a switch in my head.

I started seeing the meds more like emotional crutches. Helpful to stand up—but not to walk forever.

Are SSRIs always bad? (Not necessarily)

Alright, honesty time: I’m not saying SSRIs are evil. For some people, they’re lifesaving. My cousin? They pulled him out of a suicidal spiral, and I’m grateful every day that he had access to them. They gave him the breathing room he desperately needed.

But for me—and a lot of folks I’ve talked to—they came with trade-offs we weren’t prepared for. Emotional numbness. Dependency. A brutal exit process.

So if you’re considering them, or if you’re already on them, my advice is this: stay informed, stay curious, and don’t be afraid to question things.

You deserve more than just “not sad.” You deserve to feel alive.

Is 165 cm normal for a 15 year old?

The predicted height for a female, based on your parents heights, is 155 to 165cm. Most 15 year old girls are nearly done growing. I was too. It's a very normal height for a girl.

Is 160 cm too tall for a 12 year old?

How Tall Should a 12 Year Old Be? We can only speak to national average heights here in North America, whereby, a 12 year old girl would be between 137 cm to 162 cm tall (4-1/2 to 5-1/3 feet). A 12 year old boy should be between 137 cm to 160 cm tall (4-1/2 to 5-1/4 feet).

How tall is a average 15 year old?

Average Height to Weight for Teenage Boys - 13 to 20 Years

How to get taller at 18?

Staying physically active is even more essential from childhood to grow and improve overall health. But taking it up even in adulthood can help you add a few inches to your height. Strength-building exercises, yoga, jumping rope, and biking all can help to increase your flexibility and grow a few inches taller.

Is 5.7 a good height for a 15 year old boy?

Generally speaking, the average height for 15 year olds girls is 62.9 inches (or 159.7 cm). On the other hand, teen boys at the age of 15 have a much higher average height, which is 67.0 inches (or 170.1 cm).

Can you grow between 16 and 18?

Most girls stop growing taller by age 14 or 15. However, after their early teenage growth spurt, boys continue gaining height at a gradual pace until around 18. Note that some kids will stop growing earlier and others may keep growing a year or two more.

Can you grow 1 cm after 17?

Even with a healthy diet, most people's height won't increase after age 18 to 20. The graph below shows the rate of growth from birth to age 20. As you can see, the growth lines fall to zero between ages 18 and 20 ( 7 , 8 ). The reason why your height stops increasing is your bones, specifically your growth plates.