When I first took it, I felt fatalistic, like, Here we go, I’m gonna turn into a vegetable. I didn’t notice anything for a few weeks. Not a thing. Donna and I used to get in a fight every Saturday—a blowout. And that trailed off, which was good.

After a longer period of time, I noticed I wasn’t having waves of compassion anymore. Sometimes, before Prozac, I’d notice something going wrong in the news, or with my kids, and I’d get filled with emotion and love and all these things. And that left. I love my kids. But I wasn’t hitting that peak of emotion. It was like I had taken a step back.

A month ago the pills ran out, and I was too busy to refill them. And there was a part of me that was curious about how I’d be off these things. I like to write at night, for myself. And I was like, I wonder if I’ll be able to do that. And if I’m gonna think of things I hadn’t thought of in a while. So I stopped. Just stopped.

Was it a good idea? I don’t know. This past month, I welcomed old feelings back. I’ve been doing creative stuff at night, like design, or listening to music. I want it to take me somewhere. I want to go somewhere in my head, to escape the way I normally think an idea through. Lately, something happens where—I hate to say it, but I’ve been more creative.

Also, my dreams changed when I started taking the pills. I knew I was having them, but couldn’t remember them. My dreams this month have been more vivid, and I can remember them. Last night I was Russell Simmons and had this hip-hop empire and was going from place to place in my Escalade!

But the fighting has started again, big time. A couple of weekends ago, we had some ridiculous argument about what we should or shouldn’t be doing with the kids—completely unnecessary. Slamming things. I knew it was ridiculous. I got unreasonable and into a place where I was saying stuff that was irrational. In my mind it made sense, but later I’m thinking, Okay, she’s not gonna see my point of view.

The kids notice. Donna says they’re afraid of me. I’ve gotten better about not getting aggravated. They’re little kids and want things all the time, I get it. I’m not gonna get kooky on them or distance myself.

So I’m going to put the prescription in tonight. [Sighs] I just hope that I can still maintain the level of creativity I’ve had in the last month. But I’ll probably be okay. I’ll be fine.

—As told to Michael Freidson

* Writer's name has been changed.

Photograph: Dan Eckstein

How to detox yourself

No one on an antidepressant should consider going off it without first consulting their physician—duh, Ted!—who will customize a plan to ease down the dosage. We talked to Alan Manevitz, M.D., a pharmacologist at New York Presbyterian–Weill Cornell Medical Center, about prep steps.

1. Since treating depression takes a biological-social-psychological approach, before considering going off antidepressants, you want to stabilize the biological, psychological and environmental stresses: Learn to eat and sleep right, get appropriate exposure to light, and exercise.

2. Consider going off antidepressants at a time when your life is stable. During the holidays or final exams, when you’re stressed at work, and while moving apartments are not good times.

3. Always alert the people in your life—your support system—that you’re going off meds, so they can observe your behavior and be informed enough to notice change (e.g., “You’re not as sharp, your mood isn’t as bright, you’re isolating yourself,” Manevitz says).

4. If you’ve experienced an episode of major depression, don’t consider going off antidepressants for at least a year. “Not being able to stop all at once does not mean that you are addicted,” Manevitz says. “You cannot get addicted to antidepressants.”

5. To contact Dr. Manevitz, go to amanevitzmd.com.