This came to me through an email list Michael Yates and I are on:
A few years after our move, I suffered a bout of depression. I thought that this was because of some problems with our children and disgust with my job. It got so bad that I went into therapy. The therapist and I began to talk, and the psychiatrist prescribed Paxil. The talk helped, and so did the drug. The knot in my stomach went away, as did the anxiety. However, the side effects of the drug were soon apparent. Some were benign enough. I could drink as much coffee as I wanted without getting hyper and without stomach distress. I was able to concentrate on my work to a remarkable degree. One day when Karen took the kids on a trip, I stayed at my desk working intently for hours, until I looked up and said to myself, “something is wrong here.” Other side effects were not so harmless. Night sweats, overly vivid dreams, indifference to sex. And something very odd. I lost all interest in music. In fact, I could barely stand to hear it. And if I did, some song or other would keep running through my head, in an endless loop, for days at a time.
Read it.
