Well, I took a few months hiatus from my anxiety medication, it was a bad idea. Maybe it would have been okay if I had slowly weaned off like you would normally do, or if it was recommended by my doctor, however what actually happened in that I sent for a refill and my insurance was making it very hard to be filled, it was a clusterf*** between my doctor, the pharmacy and my insurance. Then I ran out of meds. Ultimately the whole situation made me an anxiety riddled mess and I just never ended up getting them refilled, so I quit cold turkey. Sometimes I really hate this disorder (okay, all the time).
Thinking back, I always wondered how people could have "anxiety". I mean, just stop worrying, right? Even as someone who battled depression long ago, another 'hidden' illness, I just couldn't get my head around freaking out so much about things that were so unlikely to happen. Well, I guess that came back around to bite me in the ass, and I offer the most heartfelt apologies to those I disbelieved.
I never wanted to be a medicated person, I always figured a healthy lifestyle was all I needed to keep on top of my game. Then life happened. My children, the death of a friend's dear child, past trauma, not having control over what happens with my babies, my need to go to work and feel like I am missing out on their entire lives, it all just culminated in me not being able to cope. Thus, medication. Part of me is very much of the mind 'if it makes you a happier person and a better mom/wife, it is all worth it, everything' and the other part thinks I'm a fraud for not being able to handle it by myself. It took a very long time for me to come to terms with the fact that I needed to call my doctor and ask him to help me, the breaking point was the fact that I couldn't even get into a car without crying from worry that something horrible was going to happen and I would either die, or my children would. That's not how I want to live life.
Honestly, if you really asked me what I wanted out of life, it would be to be happy, for my children to be happy and grow to be beautiful people. Right now, I cannot do that without help, my medication makes me better, happier. That's pretty much the long and short of it. I feel as if I owe it to my family to do everything I can to make sure this disorder doesn't interfere with their lives, I don't want it to affect them adversely.
So, I'll keep on popping those pills for as long as it takes me to overcome whatever is plaguing my mind, for myself, and for my family.