Life on an Atypical Antipsychotic

The word sounds scary. Antipsychotic. A holistic doctor suggested I seek another opinion because of side effects, but when my psychiatrist proposed adding one to my antidepressant, I thought I'd give it a go. After all, he had known my case for years, and he saw that last month when I began this treatment I was still very, very depressed. Since my last two posts, I'm sure you can infer that things have been bad. The drug is one that's given to people with schizophrenia. Another scary word. But I trusted my doctor, and my husband, who also was up for trying something different. It was hard to tell what would happen. I was up some days, and down others. But the down days were really bad. I could cry for hours. OCD thoughts had taken me down so far, further than I had ever gone; it was terrible. It's been over a month now that I've been on the drug. I'm not planning on taking it for much longer; my goal was to take it long enough to get myself out of the ditch I was in. I'm on the smallest dose prescribed; it's used in much higher doses to treat patients with schizophrenia. I have improved. It was gradual with a few bumps in the road, and I'm still climbing. Counterproductive as it sometimes may be, I know I'm feeling better when I'm plotting ways and reasons to stop taking the medicine! But on my husband's advice, I'm taking it slow and waiting until I see the doctor... I am a little nervous about what happens when I stop, but I can't leave it in anyone's hands but God's.