depression, Guest Posts, Truth, Video, Vulnerability

The Truth About Depression. No Bullshit.

May 11, 2015



By Jen Pastiloff

I just got back from leading a beautiful retreat for Mother’s Day. I feel hung over today. From love. Is that even a thing? It is now. I’m in bed trying to process it all. One of my favorite writers came, Christa Parravani, who is a dear friend. She wrote the book Her. If you haven’t read it yet, I recommend it highly. I also partnered with Christy Turlington Burns’ Every Mother Counts and gave away a free spot. It was a remarkable and heart-mending weekend. It is truly a great honor to support Every Mother Counts.

At one point, we were talking about depression and I mentioned an essay I had written last year on my own depression and how I had gone off of my anti-depressants. I said to the group, “I wrote this essay about going off my meds. I’m back on now and I haven’t written about it because it’s no one’s business.” It’s not. I am not ashamed of it but it’s not my job to alert the media of everything. So I said that and then decided that maybe I should make a video about it. Who knew my videos were going to be such a thing. Must be the high production value. (Not.)

So I had a beautiful lunch and went out to sit in the cacti and I couldn’t do it. My hands were shaking and I started to sweat. I started and stopped it five times. I couldn’t do it.

I never get scared to make videos or write. Except when I do. And when I do, it’s usually something that I have to do.

Like I always say, I am afraid I a lot. But I do it anyway. I buy my fear a cup of coffee (or wine) and show it how it’s done.

I thought that making a video about being back on my anti-depressants was like a who the f*ck cares? kind of thing. I mean, I am not curing cancer or saving babies. Who cares that I take meds? But after I shared that I was back on and I was not ashamed five people in five minutes came up to me to thank me.

I had hired a sound therapist to give a sound concert for the people at my retreat with Tibetan singing bowls and a gong. Her name is Fawntice Finesse and she’s magic. For real. Anyway. We went into the yoga studio for the concert. Everyone was lying on their mats with their eyes covered and their socks and I shot up. I knew I had to make the video. I quietly stepped over all the bodies as the sun was setting and, with still shaking arms, made the video below.

I am not ashamed of being on anti-depressants. This is not to create a debate about whether you should or should not be on meds. This is not to discuss which meds I am on or how many milligrams. This is to create an honest discussion about depression, about how it does not define us, about how we must do what it takes to get out of bed. How it does not define us. Just like if you have cancer, you are not your cancer. You are not your job. You are not your depression.

I remember when that essay of mine went viral. I made the mistake of reading a few comments before I realized I was never to do that again. Maybe you should reconsider leading “inspirational” retreats, lady? Maybe you should stop taking people’s money? Maybe you should do more yoga?

I never call my retreats inspirational just like I never call myself an inspiration. If someone says that about me, well, I have no say in that. I do my best to share about my own journey and to have a sense of humor. And to love. That’s it.

My workshops are not woo-woo although Kaisa McDonnall Coppola, from my Mother’s Day Retreat said this, “Loved loved loved the retreat. I can’t imagine how you even describe your retreats other than kumbaya-badassness-where we get to say ‘fuck’ out loud and in our journals. Thank you, Jen…you are sending out ripples of coolness all over the world.”

We do (a little) yoga, we share, we listen, we let the snot fly, we sing, we pay attention. I am certainly not preaching “Positive thinking.”

But there was a little part of me that was afraid that I was shooting myself in the foot by talking so openly about this stuff. I realized, however, that this was precisely why I had to share. I want to take the stigma away from this. I am not encouraging you to walk down the street vomiting your secrets or over-sharing. But I realize there is so much shame and misunderstanding surrounding mental health and depression that perhaps I would be doing a great disservice if I wasn’t forthcoming. After all, I am not ashamed, so why not speak of it?

I have been depressed since I can remember. Then my dad died and that nearly took the life out of me. I left NYU with one year left after being a scholar because of my severe depression and anorexia. And yet, I never did a damn thing about it. When I finally had another breakdown years later at the restaurant I had been working at for thirteen years, I finally went on anti-depressants.

And they saved my fucking life.

Did they make me “happy?”


But they threw down a rope into the well I had been stuck in and I began to climb out, little by little. And my life changed. And I didn’t want to die anymore.

Cut to about a year and a half or two years ago. My life was “amazing” by any standards. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get pregnant but I knew I couldn’t with the particular meds I was taking so I began to ween off because hey, my life was amazing and I maybe wanted to have a baby. Maybe.

The truth: It was terrible being off. My life was amazing amazing amazing just look at her amazing life and yet, I couldn’t even get out of bed to brush my teeth. But still, I stayed off. I weened off slowly.

I would get hundreds of emails a day (yes, a day), and lead retreats and I had a great husband and yet.

I felt flat and like a nothing person.

All the amazingness does not matter when you have something chemically awry in your brain or you are dealing with depression. I don’t need to remind any of us of Robin Williams, do I?

I finally was completely weened off (I went very slowly as I couldn’t afford to go through any serious withdrawal.) The minute I was 100% clear of my meds, we tried to get pregnant. Once.

And it worked.

It was an emotional roller coaster, to say the least, and then, the pregnancy ended up being ectopic.

Here I am, off my meds. Pregnant and then no longer pregnant. I am slowly slipping father and farther drown the rabbit hole. Then, I break my foot.

You would have thought I was dying. It affected me so profoundly and I fell into possibly the darkest place I have ever been in.

I wrote this the day after my foot broke:

The night before, a few people had written and said things about how this foot breakage was a gift bla bla and yes, I agree, but hold on- not yet. Come on- it is a lie to have something happen and immediately see the gift in it. Oh, my foot broke? Yay. Here is a learning opportunity. Here is my yoga. Here is a gift. Bullshit.
Would I get there? Yes. (God, I hope so.) But I’d be damned if I would lie about how I was feeling. So I went and taught my workshop and did my best to have a sense of humor. I was more grounded than usual because I had to be- I literally couldn’t move. I had to be carried down to the yoga studio. I was sad and also tired, having been up all night, so my energy was razor focused. I was present.
I keep hearing this concept called spiritual bypassing. What I am taking it to mean is that people think that because they do yoga or meditate or simply are “spiritual” that they get to bypass what they are really feeling. I would not do this.
There is no bypass.
There is only entering the pain and being with the pain and then healing, but to be clear, I don’t think healing means the pain ever goes away 100%. Even if it means it’s just the memory of the pain. There’s no bypass. I wanted to throw my fucking crutches at the wall.
Telling the truth is important to me.
Last month when I was in Dallas, my friend and I stumbled upon a man giving free advice in the park near her house. He had a little homemade sign that said free advice and an American flag and another sign that said Kindness Matters. There were chairs set up in a circle for people to come and sit and listen to free advice and a stuffed dog keeping guard. The first day I walked by and saw him I sat down. There was a boy there, about nineteen years old, who said his girlfriend had cheated on him with his best friend. He’d started to cry. Big fat teardrops fell onto his thick thighs and I remember feeling like a voyeur because he was in so much pain and here I was, a stranger. I hugged him before I walked away and told him to take care of his heart.
The next day when we went back (I couldn’t get enough of free advice man), a different group of people were there. Rod, that was Free Advice’s name, kept putting his hand on the leg of his partner. He was talking about love and beauty. He had his hand on her leg and said something like, “And if she ran way and married my best friend, it would be interesting to see what in love looked like under those circumstances, but I bet ya, on an old nickel” (he had a thing for old nickels and his grandmother) “that I wouldn’t fall out of love.”
I remember this clearly because it was astounding what he was suggesting. To love unconditionally. I wanted to hear more. I told him it was hard to accept that. He pointed to his partner or wife or whoever she was to him and said, “She is more beautiful than betrayal.”
He said that he didn’t know if that was always true, for everybody, and I appreciated that honesty.
Then he said this, and I have to write this down because here I am, with a broken foot, writing a book called Beauty Hunting. He said, “I’m not sure what love is. I know what beauty is. Beauty makes me love. It just happens. Like dominoes fall.
Then he points to everyone in the circle and says, “You, You, You, and You are incarnate beauty. I don’t believe this. That is my direct experience.”
He goes on to talk about what would happen if his lady betrayed him. “If she betrays me, I’m not capable of treating her any worse than crazy Eddie, the head of the youth gang that bushwhacked me one day. I am captured by beauty.”
By this point, I had looked at my friend and whispered, “Where the fuck are we?”
He continued on, “If she stabbed me in the back, it would be at least as beautiful as a supernova. As a star exploding!”
He told us all sitting around on those plastic chairs that he didn’t talk like this a lot. And this is the part that made me realize he wasn’t totally full of shit- he said, “This, what I am talking about, would not be good advice for that 19 year old kid last night.”
He said, “I can’t afford the risk of betrayal to cause me to take my eyes off beauty.”
My friend who has also broken her foot and struggled with anorexia texted me yesterday that the inner torture of a break cannot be comprehended.
I am calm. I have been lying in bed for a week with no guilt so I feel calm. And present. Normally, if I sit around doing nothing I am smothered in guilt, but now, because I know I can’t go anywhere, I’ve succumbed to being still. Does that mean I’m not afraid? No. I am terrified of change almost more than anything in my life and I am afraid of what I can’t control. What is going to happen to my body? What will I be incapable of? What does this break mean? Will I fall into the dark vortex of depression again since I can’t run and that has been one of the things saving me?
I can’t know the answer and I hate that. I want the answer. I want to know things will stay the same. I want sameness, things to count on, consistency, things that don’t break or leave.
Look, I know things could be worse. So I had to cancel Seattle this weekend and two sold out workshops? So? I need to be driven around for 6 weeks? So? I get that so-ness. I am just afraid of who I am and what I will discover when I have to get still.
I have been forced to slow down and I am utterly terrified of what that means.
In Andrew Solomon’s book, The Noonday Demon, there’s a quote by George Brown which says, “Depression is a response to past loss, and anxiety is a response to future loss.” I was terrified of future loss.
Today when I finally went to the orthopedist, the nurse asked me if I am being treated for any medical conditions. I said, “Not really. Just depression.”
She said, “Join the club, sister.”
I’m scared I won’t be able to climb out. I am afraid I am going to get stuck. People say that I should write about it and all I can think of is why anyone would want to hear about me trying to get into the shower to sit on a stepstool my husband has put in there for me to bathe and how I couldn’t figure out how to get in. And because of the crutches, my carpel tunnel is acting up like a motherfucker and my hands have become unusable and I feel broken everywhere. I can’t hear, I can’t use my hands, my foot is broken, and I decide to give up on bathing. I lie, once again, naked on the bathroom floor and think, “It’s beautiful. I think I’ll stay here.” But I’m on Percocet so maybe that isn’t me talking as much as the drugs and fatigue and self-pity because it really isn’t beautiful in my bathroom, especially from the ground. But what is beautiful is surrender.
I think about the drive up to Ojai last week to lead my retreat and how unimpressed I was with my legs. That morning I had worked out and then too. Totally unfazed. I, in no way, stood in awe of my body. I didn’t stand there going, “Oh my God, look at my legs moving. Look at this goddamned miracle of my body.” Why not? Why did it take crawling backwards up my stairs on my ass, or the doctor telling me that I cannot use my right foot or becoming incapacitated to become deeply appreciate of my body all of sudden? I don’t know. The things we take for granted.
Last night I got a response in the mail to my own Rumpus letter in the mail. It took my breath away.
I just went to look for it and realized I had stuck it as a bookmarker in The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion, which I have been rereading as I write Beauty Hunting.
The back of the envelope said: I’m having second thoughts about sending this. Your letter really helped/inspired me. I carefully tore open the envelope. It was a thick gold inside. There were two rectangle shaped pages inside with neat cursive writing on each. I will change the names.
Dear Jennifer, The thought that came to mind when talking about being brave was about my son, Dan. I questioned that thought immediately because Dan is dead. He hung himself. Suddenly, his act became a clear case of being brave. He was brave to feel the pain of life and brave enough to feel the pain of despair and brave enough to feel the calmness of death not knowing exactly was ahead.
Ps, It is beautiful here and I like it.
I will save that letter. I will think about not knowing exactly is ahead. I am not thinking about death right now. I am thinking about being in my body and how hard that is. But if I sit here and listen long enough I can hear what I haven’t been able to hear with my bad ears and my constant moving and my running. And? What do you hear? You ask. I don’t know yet.
I remember Free Advice Guy’s words and I think: I am more beautiful than this betrayal of my body.
Then finally: Maybe this isn’t a betrayal after all.


A few months after I wrote that I reached into my nightstand drawer where I had a bottle of meds from when I had weened off. I took one after I texted my doctor, “I think I might die if I don’t so something.”

And here I am.

Do I still struggle?

Fuck, yes. Sometimes. But it’s what I need to do. Will I be on them for the rest of my life? Perhaps. Do they help me? Yes.

Am I ashamed? No. Do they define me? No. Does my depression? No. And it shouldn’t for you, either.

I try to lead my example. Sometimes I am an asshole. I am human, what do you want? But i try my damndest.

Someone said I was a wounded healer and I quite like that.

All I know is that I was scared to post the video and within a few hours there were hundreds of comments and they all said thank you in one form or another.

That is incarnate beauty.

At the end of my life, when I ask one final What have I done? let my answer be: I have done love.

Truth bomb alert. You are not your depression.

It's a huge honor to have another card up at Emily McDowell Studio. Click to order.

It’s a huge honor to have another card up at Emily McDowell Studio. Click to order.

Jen Pastiloff is the founder of The Manifest-Station. Join her in Tuscany for her annual Manifestation Retreat. Click the Tuscan hills above. No yoga experience required. Only requirement: Just be a human being. Yoga + Writing + Connection. We go deep. Bring an open heart and a sense of humor- that's it! Fall 2015. It is LIFE CHANGING!

Jen Pastiloff is the founder of The Manifest-Station. Join her in Tuscany for her annual Manifestation Retreat. Click the Tuscan hills above. No yoga experience required. Only requirement: Just be a human being. Yoga + Writing + Connection. We go deep. Bring an open heart and a sense of humor- that’s it! Fall 2016. It is LIFE CHANGING! Email to sign up.



The 12 Day Detox is here. Sign up now for the next cleanse on Jan 11, 2016. Space is limited. This detox comes at just the perfect time. Reprogram your body and mind as we move into the holiday season. This is your time of rejuvenation and renewal.This is not a juice fast, or a detox based on deprivation.

The 12 Day Detox is here. Sign up now for the next cleanse on Jan 11, 2016. Space is limited. This detox comes at just the perfect time. Reprogram your body and mind as we move into the holiday season. This is your time of rejuvenation and renewal.This is not a juice fast, or a detox based on deprivation.



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  • Reply Rene May 11, 2015 at 11:51 am

    I’m proud of you, Jen. Please remember, people often operate from unclaimed emotions. It is their fear, their anger, that leads them to lash out. Hurting people often target those with courage. It is because they are afraid. We need to remember that, with compassion, and yet also stay strong in our courage. There should be no more shame in taking antidepressants than in taking insulin for diabetes. I take meds at times for my PTSD—especially the nightmares. You know what? I am not ashamed either. I am glad that I am taking care of myself, so I can help others. I want you to feel proud of yourself. We need to talk about mental health, we need to be the leaders that allow others to feel heard. You are an inspiration. I love you—Rene

    • Reply nancy May 11, 2015 at 6:21 pm

      having recently been the ‘target’ of a fearful, angry person myself, someone whom I love(d) very much, your response to Jennifer resonated with me. I have ‘stayed strong in my courage’ and though it took me a while to find my compassion for this person, I worked hard at it and did.
      For this I am thankful …. not feeling ‘holier than thou’, or over-burdened with responsibility for the other being’s choice, and not wracked with guilt either.
      Lots of self-examination …. much different from navel-gazing …. a prerequisite for learning anything.
      thanks Rene,

  • Reply JM May 11, 2015 at 12:08 pm

    I remember the exact moment I became a depressed person. I was 8 years old. I told my mother that I was sad and I didn’t know what to do about it. She suggested I clean a toilet, that always cheered her up, or pray for the babies stuck in limbo (Catholic), or I try thinking “happy thoughts.” Being on anti-depressants was like being able to reason clearly, see things, routes to take, and from that day forward I was and am a happier person, better mom, wife, and writer. Don’t get me wrong, anti-depressant’s side effects have taken a LOT away that was good, things I really miss. But when I weigh the me without antidepressants to the one faithfully taking the antidepressants, I will always take the taker’s side. Significant losses have been a price to pay. I don’t care. The me I am now is so much better, happier, kinder, reasonable.

  • Reply Jane May 11, 2015 at 12:37 pm

    agreed, agreed, agreed. My life is wonderful. I still have depression. The meds make all the difference as well as exercise and a good diet. Some days are harder than others. I totally get it. Thank you.

  • Reply Elisabeth May 11, 2015 at 12:38 pm

    I’m in a very dark place right now. But no more. Been watching for your videos for weeks. Love you, Jen. Thank you.

  • Reply Alma Luz Villanueva May 11, 2015 at 12:59 pm

    “This is my direct experience,” a man who knows he’s Buddha. “Pointing at your own heart you find Buddha.” El Buddha This is what you keep doing, Jen, pointing at your own heart…cour (heart) age.
    mucho amor, mas milagros/miracles, tu amiga,

  • Reply Treva Draper-imler May 11, 2015 at 1:10 pm

    Thank you isn’t enough, but it matters to me. I need to tell you “Thank-You”!

    Love and Peace,

  • Reply Beata Zeune May 11, 2015 at 1:57 pm

    Thank you, God bless you. Good to get things out & the world need to know & realize depression is part of our human body just like cancer & people need to accept us for who we are, what we have & that mental illness is not meaning we are retarded in the mind. Society keeps wanting to hush depression like we are crazy, like we don’t matter & they don’t want to hear anything about depression or how depression makes ourselves feel like dying.

  • Reply Jenn May 11, 2015 at 2:09 pm

    Jen, I love your raw honesty. I have lived with bipolar disorder for the past ten years and it still drags me down at times. It wasn’t until I shared my story publicly, until I removed the mask I had been hiding behind trying to pretend I was fine, that I was able to free myself. Now through my non-profit, I encourage people to share their stories because their words may save a life. If someone is touched by listening to their story, and they realize it’s not a sign of weakness to reach out for help, a precious life may be saved. At our debut show last year I had a woman tell me that she found my blog when she was at her darkest point and my writing saved her….now that was a moment I’ll never forget. I hope I get to meet you in person someday. Keep sharing your truth. xoxoxo

  • Reply Mali Petar May 11, 2015 at 2:41 pm

    Thank you for sharing, you are beautiful! Peace, love and happiness xxx ooo

  • Reply Emily May 11, 2015 at 3:47 pm

    Your authenticity and openness empowers me (and so many others). I went off my meds and now have decided to go back on them. I’m facing lots of judgment (often accrued in the past from people making off-handed comments– not always knowing that I was one of the people they were criticizing). People in yoga communities can be surprisingly judgmental when it comes to psychiatric issues. Would meditation for five hours a day cure me? Who knows. The point is that I have to be able to get out of bed and go to work. I have to be able to sustain and care for myself, because ain’t nobody else here to do it. For me, that means meds. For now. As you said, maybe not forever. Who knows? And yes– WHO CARES?!?! I think we forget that sometimes we are allowed to keep things completely to ourselves, especially as an act of self-preservation and self-love. Still, your sharing has helped me and so many others. Who knows how many lives you may have saved by now… just throwing a lifeline out. Thank you Jen.

  • Reply sherri May 11, 2015 at 4:12 pm

    Beautiful beyond belief! It takes someone truly beautiful to be a Beauty Hunter – that is you. Thank-you for all of your open honesty – your words are heart warming – your intention is love. You bring the beauty out in others – Thank-you everyone for caring and sharing. Pure and simple Beauty! I am so glad I found you.

  • Reply Joe Downie May 11, 2015 at 5:06 pm

    Jen, you are changing the model for the way people think about things. That is huge! I applaud your leadership with all that I am. You always seem to help reassure things for me. I appreciate that.
    Take care of yourself.

  • Reply gigi May 11, 2015 at 6:52 pm

    Jen, thank you. You are awesome. So glad that I found you <3

  • Reply Dawn May 11, 2015 at 8:46 pm

    I have been following you for approximately two years. Your honest and courageous talks about depression have touched me deeply. My story with depression and anxiety closely resembles yours. THANK YOU for so bravely speaking out for and in support of your Tribe…for using your beautiful voice, for shining your amazing light, and for encouraging and inspiring the rest of us to do the same. “How bold one gets when one is sure of being loved”…I LOVE YOU.

  • Reply Barbara Potter May 11, 2015 at 9:46 pm

    So proud of you.

  • Reply Ginette May 12, 2015 at 7:01 am

    You give me Hope. Hope that there is more to me and my light will shine and I will find my gift and be able to share it. Hope that the thoughts of dying, which are very scary and so comforting at the same time, will eventually not be an every day thought as the only way to drop this ever so incredibly heavy weight of depression and anxiety. Hope that I will not always have to be/act so strong all the time just to get through my day. Some days I just want to yell “FUCK IT!” and just lie down and surrender and give up and not move for the rest of my life. I give up, this is too hard, life is too hard! But I don’t. I take my med cocktail religiously and put one foot in front of the other.
    I didn’t sign up for this, nobody did. All we can do is take it one day at a time, and when necessary, one hour at a time. I work on being grateful for all I do have. I work on being kind, always! I love you Jen because you remind me to work on just being me. I know I’m not my depression, no matter how many areas in my life depression has messed it up for me. You keep it real and funny and even if you don’t set out to be inspirational, you are. You are because you are brave enough to do all that you are doing. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you from the bottom of my being. <3

  • Reply Tracy May 12, 2015 at 8:33 am

    I wish I had legitimate words to express how this post impacted me. I’d like to say, “Hey, thanks! You’re awesome!” But I don’t. Don’t get wrong, I am thankful and I do think you’re awesome but I don’t feel that is adequate enough to express how this made me feel. I am a broken person. Broken by much in my life; by tragedy a child shouldn’t have to experience, conditional love in relationships with those closest to me, an abusive marriage, loss in innumerable ways. There’s been a lot of sadness for me. And while there is plenty that is awesome about my life now, there is still than sadness, that ache of longing for more even when I have no idea what more is actually made from. As I was reading this, I kept thinking, “This woman I should be my friend. I need friends this brutally honest. I need friends that have a no bullshit barrier. I need friends. I need …” And then I stopped telling myself I needed anything. I just had this moment when something clicked and I thought, “Fuck it. I don’t need anything. I am enough. All I need is to remind myself of it.” So, today I will go to work and do all the mundane things I do every day. But tonight, when the quiet hours come, I’m going to start manifesting the fuck out of my destiny.

    So, thank you. You’re awesome.

    • Reply Jillian Collings December 18, 2015 at 12:41 am

      Haha!! Love it!!

    • Reply Karen February 15, 2016 at 8:37 pm

      Tracy I heard myself in your story, thank you for sharing your truth. In one paragraph you have jolted me into my reality. I am an enough. ?

  • Reply Adam Wahlberg May 12, 2015 at 10:55 am

    What a beautiful essay – thank you so much for writing it. We’re all big fans of yours at Think Piece.

  • Reply Devi May 12, 2015 at 12:26 pm

    I came to the same conclusion about not letting the stigma of depression bring me down just last week. I have started a blog about my experience… it is so important that we show the world that there should be absolutely no shame! So glad I found your post and video. Thank you!

  • Reply mia May 12, 2015 at 1:00 pm

    You’re essay about stopping your antidepressants changed my life. I decided I didn’t need to be on mine anymore after reading it. It was partially because the pharmacy took forever refilling them and I was forced to be off my ad’s. I had clarity after reading your essay but I’d been contemplating my need for antidepressants anyway. I don’t have major depression though. And everything that gets me down is something I want to tackle and fix not cover up with lexapro. AD’S make people over weight. That’s bad. I also couldn’t cry on them. That’s bad too. I googled, ” I don’t like being on antidepressants” and your article popped up. The one where you quit your ad’s. It changed my life. Really it did. For the better. Yeah, I cried a lot for a day after stopping but it was nice. My mom still drives me crazy but I don’t need a pill to help me deal. Anyway, I’m all over the place with this comment. But I hate antidepressants. I have a sex drive again. I am not sleeping in til 2pm. (I’m a waitress). I have good things on my life that I’m focusing on. I feel lighter not being on antidepressants. I have laughed louder since being off. I was numb on them. I hate them.

    • Reply Jennifer Pastiloff May 12, 2015 at 2:50 pm

      It’s so complicated and I am def a little more numb that I know I need them. I tried it all. Good for you, Mia! xooxox I am proud of you (hope that does not sound condescending, as that it not how I mean it.) Yay for a sex drive!

  • Reply The Process | anxiousaimlessandarbitrary June 28, 2015 at 10:05 am

    […] one of my favorite yoga instructors and a dear friend, sent me a link to a post by Jennifer Pastiloff about her going back on her anti-depression meds with a note that […]

  • Reply Jillian Collings December 18, 2015 at 12:36 am

    This one really spoke to me. Cold turkey’d my meds a few weeks ago. (w minor thoughts of baby as well). I still lie in bed all day but I’m set to go to a Mental Health & Addiction facility in Toronto soon. Been waiting a year. I suppose its time to take back control of my life, my direction.. lying in bed is lovely but when its just me and my own thoughts, it gets pretty darn scary inside my head. Wish me luck!

    • Reply Mercury December 22, 2015 at 11:22 am

      Good for you, Jillian. I know depression is very real, but I get the feeling resorting to taking multiple mind altering medications only serves to exacerbate the problem, and doesn’t actually address the root of the problem (whatever it may be). It makes me happy that you’ve chosen to give them up and seek other treatment methods 🙂

  • Reply Nick Stokes January 11, 2016 at 4:46 am

    Your post is very emotional and inspirational Jen. People that are not familiar with depression can create clear picture about it after reading your story.
    Since you are an expert for the field of depression, I would like to invite you to read and share your opinion about article on depression that was recently written by my company. Do you mind to email you the link?

  • Reply Marianela Chire January 15, 2016 at 12:59 pm

    I just read this on the perfect moment! Thank you for encourage me to own my story, that is not only about depression but also a very serious anxiety. Thank you so much!!! Love from Peru!

  • Reply Camilla May 3, 2019 at 4:39 am

    Jen, I’ve been following you for around one year now. I love how honest and courageously you share about depression – it really matters that we speak up and create awareness about these things.
    THANK YOU for so bravely speaking out for everyone in this community.

    • Reply Camilla March 29, 2020 at 1:47 am

      I couldn’t agree more!

  • Reply Stacy Mizrahi August 28, 2019 at 8:23 am

    I found yoga as a result of my depressive episodes. I’m glad to see another writer tackling this, and sharing the experience is the best type of therapy. I took on yoga, meditation and therapy while making some life choices (giving up social media, alcohol, video games and TV). I haven’t had a depressive episode in nearly two years. It’s do-able, and it certainly requires a great deal of hard work and dedication in the self-recovery space.

  • Reply Camilla April 2, 2020 at 12:45 pm

    Thank you for bravely speaking up about such an important topic. It truly matters that we create awareness.

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