Healing Is Living: A Real Client Story of Withdrawal, Change, and Reclaiming Life
The story of one woman’s healing process—and what it reminded me about my own.
Author’s note: The following article discusses one of my clients and the work we have done together. This article was written and shared with the express permission—and encouragement—of my client. At her request, all details are accurately represented with the exception of her name, which has been changed for her privacy. I am grateful for our work together and the ways it has allowed us both to grow, and I am grateful that she offered me the idea to write and publish this piece.
When Luna came to me at the end of 2024, she was desperate. A couple of years earlier, she had gone cold turkey off of Effexor and suffered brutal withdrawal symptoms before finding herself back on Lexapro. After stabilizing for nearly a year, she had started to rebuild her life and believed the worst was behind her… that is until a sudden and intense setback pulled her under again. Her symptoms returned in full force, including intense akathisia. She found herself unable to work much, living with her parents again, and deeply fearful that her previous progress had all been erased. She often expressed feeling like her only option was to end her life, even though that was the last thing she actually wanted to do.
If you’ve experienced psychiatric drug withdrawal yourself, you might recognize something of your own story in Luna’s. I certainly did. I remember what it felt like to be overwhelmed by symptoms and unable to imagine that anything could ever feel different or better.
But even in the thick of her suffering, Luna had a powerful capacity for curiosity. She couldn’t pretend she wasn’t in pain, but she was willing to wonder if there might be another way through. She was open to the idea that healing might not only be about symptom relief, but about creating a life that made more space for vitality, meaning, and joy. And, she was open to the idea that she could at least begin to create this more spacious life even while she was still experiencing intense symptoms.
And that curiosity was everything.
About six months later Luna isn’t “healed,” but her life feels completely different. She is still holding her same dose of Lexapro. She’s still living with her parents, though she is actively thinking of when and how she can move out. She still struggles with certain symptoms sometimes, but they no longer dominate her days and her severe akathisia has subsided.
AND…
She’s working more. She’s been traveling to stay with friends and family, and she has plans to spend most of her summer subletting in both the Eastern and Western US, so that she can experience a taste of life in different places. She’s writing again and sharing her work on her Substack. She is finally taking concrete steps to start a business that she’s spent years dreaming about. I am so proud of her and the hard work she has done, and I am so happy for how far she has come!
Her current job is remote, and in one of our recent sessions she wondered aloud if being home all day might actually be contributing to the ways in which she still feels unwell and stuck sometimes. That kind of insight—coming from within, rather than from anyone else—is incredibly powerful. Together we brainstormed ways she could increase connection and stimulation without overloading herself: coworking spaces, virtual coworking hours, local events, other fun-but-low-stakes outings. None of these things were “fixes,” but each one became a small, life-affirming step.
And this is how healing usually happens. It’s not just through rest, symptom tracking, meticulous energy management, and the careful curation of everything one is exposed to. It’s through honest-to-goodness participation in life. It’s through movement. It’s through change.
I’ve lived this myself. During the five and a half years I was tapering, much of my old life fell away. A lot of my friendships ended, most of my creativity dried up, and even the activities that once brought me the most joy felt out of reach. And just as I was nearing the end of my taper, feeling more ready to step back into life again… Covid hit, and the isolation intensified.
It took time to find my way forward. There was no overnight return to myself. But in early 2022, I knew something had to change. I knew I needed reasons to leave the house more often, and I knew I needed more local friends… even though a big part of me also felt resistant to these things. My partner and I joined a local bee club and signed up for their year-long beekeeping apprenticeship program. At first, it was just something to try. And at first, it was pretty uncomfortable (and not just for fear of the bees)! But we met people—real people, near us, who became our friends. We found ourselves part of something again, and it helped more than either of us expected.
By early 2023 the apprenticeship program had ended and my need for connection had only deepened. A part of me was still resistant, but I knew my continued healing wasn’t going to unfold in further stillness and solitude any longer. The bee club taught me that. I had to meet myself and the future I wanted halfway. I had to stay committed to choosing life, even when choosing life felt overwhelming and I wasn’t sure how I would actually do it or what it would look like.
That’s what excites me most about this work: the reclamation of LIFE, even when things feel uncertain and unknown.
The most potent healing doesn’t happen on the couch at home, or in symptom journals, or in dosage spreadsheets, or even in a coaching session. It happens in everyday motion. It happens in choosing to show up for something you value, even when you don’t feel ready. It happens when you focus a little less on healing and a little more on living—not someday, but right now.
And this isn’t about bypassing the hard stuff either. I know what I am talking about is easy to say and hard to do, especially when you’re deep in the throes of struggle. But the shift you’re longing for doesn’t come from waiting to get better. It comes from gently beginning to live in the direction of what you hope to feel, and of the future you want to create. It comes from remembering that healing and living aren’t separate. We heal through living. Healing is living. It’s the slow, steady process of reconnecting with what matters to you, and taking even the smallest step towards it. It takes time, it takes courage, it takes curiosity, and it takes a willingness to be uncomfortable in new ways. It takes choosing to actively participate in creating a life that feels meaningful to step into. It is such an honor to walk alongside every client of mine through this alchemical process of growth and transformation.
I am excited to see where Luna’s continuing journey will take her, and where mine will take me.
About me
I work with people on unconventional healing paths, especially those learning to hear and trust themselves again after years of being shaped by systems that asked them not to.
This is not about solving or fixing. It’s about returning—to the pace, the knowing, and the wholeness already within you.
I still support people through psychiatric drug withdrawal, and now I’m also walking with those in moments of quiet upheaval and deep change of all kinds… people seeking presence, clarity, integrity, and a way forward that feels true.