u/Chrolan1988

Hi, long story short, I was section in 2009 and again in 2011 diagnosed with paranoid psychosis in 09 and Bipolar disorder in 2011. I had been taking olanzapine on and off from 2009 to 2011. Then consistently taking it from 2011 -2015 scaling down from 20mg to 5mg over that 4 year period. Due to the nasty side effects of Olanzapine I moved to quetiapine fully by the end of 2015.

Move in to Spring 2016, I was told by the mental health team including doctors and car workers, I no longer needed to take medication at all, I was fully discharged to GP and that was that.

However, due to a sense of psychological reliance on antipsychotics and the fact that it has aided sleep for so long, I have been scared to come off it. My GP is flexible and my prescription has essentially been a 30 day rolling meditation that’s always open to review.

The medication itself being such a low dose 25mg is probably offering a greater placebo effect rather than actually medicating my condition(s) and as I have been able to officially speaking stop taking it for 10 years I am now considering actually doing it.

Has anyone done this before and what has your experience been? Is it worth it and will it better my life? I always feel better in the morning when I don’t take it and wake up with more energy for the day but I soon get scared and start taking it again. I haven’t gone longer than 3 days.

Monthly Breakdown:

- Salary changing to +£4583

- Pension contribution (minus) 6%

- Childcare vouchers (minus) £230

- Car payment changing to (minus) £1057

- Health Benefit +£281

- Car allowance +£375

- Car BiK +£76

Right side will be:

- BiK (minus) £281 for health
- BiK (minus) £76

A thought worth considering is that human beings may begin life in a natural state of joy, wonder, trust, and presence. In childhood, happiness often feels instinctive. Children laugh easily, are absorbed by small things, and tend to return quickly to the moment after upset. There is a lightness and openness that can feel close to a natural way of being.

As life unfolds, that ease can become layered over. Pain, fear, disappointment, comparison, and responsibility begin to shape how we interpret ourselves and the world. Alongside this, modern consumer culture reinforces the idea that something is missing, that fulfilment is always ahead in the next purchase, achievement, or possession. Attention is steadily pulled outward toward what can be acquired rather than inward toward what can be known or felt.

This can create a subtle tension. The more we pursue externally, the more internally complex life can become. Stress, frustration, and unhappiness are not only emotional states but also mentally demanding ones. They require sustained attention, interpretation, comparison, and anticipation. In that sense, they are heavy states to maintain.

Contentment, by contrast, often feels lighter. Gratitude is lighter. Presence is lighter. Joy is lighter.

From here, an interesting question emerges. What if peace is not something we must construct, but something closer to our underlying nature, gradually obscured rather than absent?

Many religious traditions offer language that points in this direction. In Christianity, writers such as Saint Augustine described the human heart as restless until it finds rest in God, suggesting that longing is not simply for more things, but for reconnection with something deeper and enduring. In Sufism, there is a strong emphasis on remembrance, presence, and moving beyond attachment to the material world toward closeness with the Divine. In Hinduism, teachings often distinguish between temporary desires and a deeper state of inner fulfilment rooted in awareness of the eternal. Across these traditions, there is a shared theme that restlessness is not solved by accumulation, but by alignment, remembrance, or surrender.

Psychology offers parallel ideas in a different language. Carl Rogers wrote about an innate tendency toward growth and wholeness when we are not blocked by conditions of worth. Carl Jung described individuation as a process of becoming more whole inwardly rather than more complete externally. These ideas sit interestingly alongside religious perspectives that point toward returning to something essential within or beyond the self.

Seen this way, growth may be less about accumulation and more about refinement. Less about adding to the self, and more about uncovering what is already there beneath conditioning and distraction.

It is only a thought, and open to challenge, but perhaps what we call growth is not always upward or outward. It may also be inward. A gradual movement away from what is noisy, comparative, and consuming, and toward what feels simpler, steadier, and more aligned with peace, meaning, and what many would describe as closeness to God.