Initially I got on anti-depressants to ease pms symptoms. Then it helped with the depression that I was trying to hide with booze. But I didn't work on myself then. I just thought I was "cured" and didn't need to drink because I was on Prozac. That turned out to be a big fat fucking NO! I was not cured. I was not anywhere near healthy. But I insisted I was. Even tried to get others to stop drinking because my life was so much better without booze.
The truth is, an anti-depressant alone isn't enough. I needed to work on why I used, and what made me tick. I was so fucking scared to face my demons and hurts that I didn't want to even pack to go to treatment. But my sister being my sister, knew that I wasn't going to do what needed to be done. And so she packed my suitcase for me, and had me finish up by choosing my shirts that I wanted.
Treatment fucking sucked balls. Seriously. I was a mess the first two and a half months. I let everyone know what happened to me growing up, and I've heard that others were able to heal by hearing my story. But once I was able to admit I had an addiction that I could not hide behind anymore, I started my healing process. And now I am able to face my predaters face to face and not bat an eye. They mean nothing to me now and have no power over me.
I know that gradually tapering off an anti-depressant is an option. But it sure as hell isn't an option on going to consider so soon in my recovery. And I sure as hell won't get off birth control anytime soon either. But that is a whole other story that I won't get into this time around.
So will I live my life on life's terms? Fuck no. 
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