I was placed on Lithium around 2002, on the advice of my psychiatrist, while I was a voluntary patient in a psychiatric hospital. I remained on it for years.

What follows is not a planned taper. This was an emergency.

I had developed stage 3 Chronic Kidney Disease, dangerously close to stage 4.

My GP said: “This has to happen. It has to be gone. You are a whisker away from stage 4 CKD.”

My psychiatrist said: “We have to do this now.”

Day 1: The First Day Without Lithium

The first day without lithium. I feel raw, shaky, unsure of what will come next.

I have no support other than the Samaritans. Everything feels magnified.

Andrea is too fragile to witness this. My parents are gone. I am alone in it.

The side effects of withdrawal hit immediately — fatigue, confusion, waves of despair.

I write in fragments, because longer thoughts are impossible right now. My mind is fractured.

Each breath feels heavy. I watch the clock, counting time in tremors and anxiety.

It is strange to feel alive and near death at the same time.

I try to hold myself together, but tears come unbidden. I do not resist them.

This is only the beginning, and I already feel how hard it will be.

Day 4: Dealing with Temazepam and Lithium Side Effects — A Personal Journey

The mix of residual lithium effects and Temazepam creates hazy awareness. Nothing feels fully mine.

Body tremors, fatigue, cognitive confusion. Anxiety spikes unpredictably.

I cling to small routines — writing, drinking water, pacing the room.

Every sentence I write feels like effort, but I record anyway. Evidence that I am still moving forward.

Day 5: Without Lithium — Struggles and Reflections

Illness deepens. Mental clarity fluctuates. Gaps in memory appear. Reflection feels almost impossible.

Each movement is measured. Energy minimal. Emotional waves unpredictable — sudden tears, irritability, despair.

Still, I note small victories: waking, eating, staying upright. These are milestones.

Day 6: Lithium Withdrawal Seems to Be Settling

Some steadiness emerges. Not relief, not calm, but a slight decrease in waves.

Mind feels a little more coherent. Body still weak. Sleep sporadic.

Writing comes easier, though fragments remain. I capture what I can remember clearly.

Day 7: I Think I’ve Kicked Lithium From My Life

Hope appears, faint. Anxiety still present. Physical symptoms linger, but the mind is slightly more tethered.

Small routines are possible. Journaling longer stretches. Some sense of agency returns.

Not fully recovered, but survival is tangible.

Day 8

Continuing adaptation. Tiredness still dominates. Emotional control fragile. The world feels heavier than normal.

I focus on small tasks, tracking mood, noting symptoms. This record is my anchor.

Day 9

Waves of nausea and fatigue continue. Cognition slower than usual. Thoughts fragmented.

Keeping pace with basic self-care is effortful. Writing serves as both outlet and documentation.

Day 10

Physical symptoms persist but mental clarity improves slightly. Fatigue remains. Sleep irregular.

Awareness of self and survival grows. Reflection possible, but fragile.

Day 11

Energy marginally higher. Mood fluctuates. Anxiety still present. Moments of calm interspersed with waves of despair.

Writing consolidates memory. Observations noted carefully, line by line.

Day 12: And It Is Still Hard

The body and mind still struggle. Pain, fatigue, and emotional waves continue. Progress is incremental.

Gaps remain in memory. Writing is a patchwork. But each recorded fragment is proof of survival.

Closing Reflection

There are gaps in the entries. Short posts. Missing days. This is not by design. It reflects periods when I was too unwell to write, too mentally destabilised, or physically exhausted.

I don’t remember all of it. But I got through it.

Reader Safety Note

This account contains raw experiences with serious medication withdrawal and mental health crises.

If you are struggling with thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please contact trained support immediately:

– In the UK & ROI: Samaritans — 116 123 (free, 24/7)

– Elsewhere: locate your local crisis service