Recently on my blog, a commenter named Ted posed the following question in the comments to this piece about how I’m preparing to withdraw from Celexa:
You’ve left one relatively major part of your Celexa experience off your blog… was it an effective treatment for you? Did it reduce your anxiety and panic attacks?
I think ignoring, or at least not writing about, whatever positive effects the therapy had for you for the past year does nothing to help those of us who read your blog.
Focusing only on the negative/potentially negative withdrawal effects doesn’t speak to your whole experience with the medication and what symptoms the medication may have alleviated so that you could pursue better long term cognitive management of your anxiety disorder.
What a good question, Ted. This deserves an entire blog post and not just a comment reply.
DID IT WORK?
In short, I don’t think so. Undoubtedly, it did something — like Paxil, it blunted my emotions (although in a more subtle way) and stripped me of my drive.
But did it help to reduce my panic attacks?
I haven’t tracked my panic attacks quantitatively for a few years now, but going by memory, the answer is no. I expected to see a great improvement — that was one of the reasons, after all, that I’d decided to “settle” for an SSRI despite fervently hating the idea — but I saw nothing from Celexa alone.
Once I found a good therapist on my new town, I did begin to see both cognitive and behavioral improvement. They were slight, but they were noticeable.
It wasn’t until my most recent round of CBT that I could begin to work outside of my home again. Therapy filled in Celexa’s gaps, you could say. (And I think, frankly, the gaps were large.)
Still, throughout my entire time on Celexa — and this is why my overall answer to your question is “no” — I still had to rely on Xanax. I kept hearing the same old line from my doctor about how if I still needed a benzodiazepine to get through a day at work or a trip to the store, then my Celexa dosage was wrong.
CHUTES AND LADDERS, MEASURED BY THE MILLIGRAM
I started off on 10 mg. Then went up to 20 mg. Then 30 mg. Then 40 mg.
I saw no significant difference in my anxiety level at any dosage. (It’s worth noting that, once I upped to 40 mg, I felt stupid. And out of it. And spacey. To the point where my doctor quickly approved a drop back down to 30 mg, which is where I stayed.)
So, even on Celexa, I felt like I was back at the starting point: I still wasn’t doing well, I still needed Xanax, and now (unlike my pre-Celexa months) I also knew that I’d taken out a bank loan. An SSRI loan. And, eventually, I’d have to repay the loan with interest.
And brain zaps.
It wasn’t until I started on Lamictal, an anti-epileptic drug that’s indicated for bipolar disorder (which, as far as I know, I do not have), that I started seeing some relief. (Some.)
In theory, says my doctor, Lamictal’s mechanism for quieting mania in bipolar patients lends itself nicely to quieting the anxiety response in people like me.
But I’ll save the Lamictal discussion for another day.
CELEXA VS. PAXIL
Now, if you wanted me to make a comparison between the two SSRI’s that I’ve taken, I’d be singing Celexa’s praises. Compared to Paxil, Celexa felt far less sedating, had far less of an impact on my sex drive and my motivation to socialize and work, and didn’t make me want to sleep for 12+ hours per day. So, there’s that.
I guess you might consider that a positive — but I don’t. Here’s why: while it might have been a better SSRI for me in terms of its relative lack of severely negative side effects, its lack of effectiveness basically negates any good that comes from its shiny comparison to Paxil.
Well, I hope that answers your question, Ted! I do think it’s fair to assess medications by looking at both their negative and their positive effects.
My overall experience with Celexa still doesn’t pass muster. I feel like it was a waste of my time.
Photo: Chelsea Gomez Oakes