Thank you Scummy & LittleFairy. I've taken antidepressants for the majority of my adult life, my diagnosis is recurrent major depression. I've been hospitalised twice (age 16 and 25), I'm 32 now. Most of the time no one would know I suffered from this if I didn't tell them. Usually I take the drugs and I'm fine, I can cope with the world. My psychiatrist in the U.S. (American by birth, don't hold it against me please!) said that my depression was chemical rather than situational. I moved to the UK six years ago. The past year has been a rough one---my divorce was finalised, my new partner and I moved from London to Warrington, I quit trying to finish the master's degree I left behind in the U.S., had a miscarriage, started a job that I quickly realised I hated, got pregnant again, and got remarried. To say it has been stressful would be an understatement.
I had been taking venlafaxine (Efexor) for the last seven years (since my last hospitalisation). When I found out I was pregnant the first time, I continued cutting the dose till I was taking only 1/4 of the lowest dose tablet and was planning to stop. After the miscarriage, I figured I would go ahead with my plan to quit so that I would be drug-free for another pregnancy. I was feeling ok, but the other times I've quit ADs I usually have a few months before it all goes down the toilet again. The GP has put me on fluoxetine (Prozac) for the last month, but I can't say it's helping.
I don't know about specialists in this area, but am guessing not. The GP wasn't particularly complimentary about mental health services around here (which does nothing for my confidence!). The last time I got referred to services (in London), I really needed to see a psychiatrist about my medication. Instead, I got there and found out I had to see an idiot social worker (for 'assessment') who didn't even have a room to meet with me! He made me sit with him in the tiny inner courtyard, spilling my guts even though people kept walking past. When I spotted the dead fox not 15 feet away, I couldn't even continue. I ignored his calls after that and never saw anyone again. They contacted my husband and were all concerned about his 'caring responsibilities' and sent him this ridiculous survey with items on it about whether or not he had to help me with toileting or eating. Completely inappropriate and frankly insulting, considering they did nothing to help me. So my expectations could be classed as low.
I'm sorry to be so negative and long winded. I think I am just lonely up here.