My Seroxat Nightmare: Withdrawal, Rage, and Meetings with the MHRA

I was prescribed Seroxat back in the late 1990s. It started with work-related health problems—osteoarthritis in my hip caused by years of heavy lifting in a physically demanding job. The constant pain and stress dragged my mood down, so my doctor suggested this relatively new antidepressant called Seroxat (paroxetine). The patient information leaflet gave no real warning of danger, so I started taking it.

For the next six years I stayed on it, mostly at 40mg a day. Looking back, it never truly fixed the underlying despair. Instead, it numbed me emotionally. It blunted my feelings, stole my empathy, and changed who I was as a person. I turned into an agitated, angry version of myself—an “obese monster,” as I sometimes described it. I developed sleep apnoea while on the drug, and it robbed me of normal emotional responses. Music, relationships, life itself—everything felt flat. At the time I didn’t fully connect the dots. I just knew something was seriously wrong.

The Long Taper

Eventually I decided I’d had enough. I wanted off the drug. My GP switched me to the liquid formulation so I could taper more precisely using an oral syringe. At first I tried larger reductions, but the electric “brain zaps” hit me hard—that horrible lightning-like sensation in my head. So I slowed right down, cutting by as little as 0.5mg per week.

It took me 19 months to go from 40mg down to 22mg. Even those tiny drops could trigger symptoms: anger, agitation, and those relentless zaps. The drug still had its grip on me. I felt it wasn’t letting go.

Going Cold Turkey

One day I’d had enough of the slow struggle. Against my doctor’s advice, I threw away the remaining bottles and emailed my GP to say I no longer wanted this thing controlling my life. I went cold turkey.

Within 24 hours I was curled up in a foetal position on the bed. Stomach cramps, head and body zaps, intrusive thoughts—it was absolute hell. The next three months were some of the worst of my life. The withdrawal turned me into an agitated, angry monster with violent urges I’d never known before. I suffered rage, nightmares, night sweats, sleep paralysis, and suicidal ideation that hit me in a way I had never experienced prior to the drug. I felt completely out of control, as if I were losing my sanity. Some nights I woke up pinned to the bed, unable to move, terrified by an invisible force holding me down.

I described much of this horror in my book, The Evidence, However, Is Clear: The Seroxat Scandal. It wasn’t just physical pain—it was mental and emotional torture. But slowly, after those intense three months, things began to change. My empathy returned. I remember listening to songs like the Dixie Chicks’ “Travelin’ Soldier” or Martina McBride’s “Concrete Angel” and actually feeling the lyrics for the first time in years. I cried because I could connect again. Emotions that Seroxat had stolen from me started coming back.

The Aftermath and Awakening

Recovery wasn’t instant. I still deal with lingering memory problems and sleep issues, but I regained a sense of who I really was before Seroxat. That whole ordeal changed my life. While coming off the drug in 2006, I started my blog (originally called “Seroxat Sufferers Stand Up and Be Counted,” later The Fiddaman Blog). I realised I wasn’t alone. When I searched under the American name Paxil, the floodgates opened—thousands of similar stories, lawsuits, hidden trial data, and regulatory failures poured out.

I spent years researching GSK’s handling of the drug, the downplayed withdrawal risks, the suicidality issues, and scandals like Study 329. I attended trials, covered inquests, and did what I could to hold those responsible to account.

As part of that fight, I met with the MHRA (the UK’s Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency) on numerous occasions. I first contacted them around 2006 after starting the blog. Over the years I had several meetings with them, including one with the CEO at the time, Kent Woods. I even helped arrange a meeting between the MHRA and Dr David Healy to discuss these serious issues.

But it soon became obvious that the meetings were mostly for show—to appease campaigners rather than drive real change. They stonewalled on key questions about withdrawal effects, downplayed the risks, and seemed far more interested in protecting the status quo than protecting patients. Some months after my meeting with Kent Woods, I gave up communicating with them altogether. It was clear they had no intention of acting on the evidence we presented.

Although I have since retired the blog to pursue other interests (including podcasting and fiction writing), it remains online as a rich archive. It continues to gain attention, and the visitor counter is fast approaching 4.5 million hits.

Lessons Learned

I strongly advise against going cold turkey. Taper as slowly as your body needs—preferably during cooler months if possible—and be fully prepared for what may come. If I had known then what I know now, I would never have taken Seroxat for what was essentially stress and pain from work problems. For milder issues, exercise, therapy, or other non-drug approaches would have been far better.

My struggle was never just personal. It exposed a much wider scandal. Seroxat (Paxil) is one of the SSRIs most notorious for causing dependence and severe discontinuation problems, yet for years the warnings were dangerously inadequate. I lived through the nightmare, survived it, and turned that pain into advocacy.

If you’re going through something similar right now, know this: you are not alone. Taper at the pace your body demands. The drug companies and regulators may not want you to hear the truth, but the evidence is clear.