When a major study appears in JAMA Psychiatry—a high-profile journal that shapes headlines and clinical decisions—its findings carry weight.

So when Kalfas and colleagues released what they billed as the most comprehensive analysis of antidepressant withdrawal to date, it drew immediate attention.

The study concluded that symptoms were generally “mild,” short-lived, and possibly amplified by nocebo effects—positioning itself as the last word on the subject.

The authors mobilised a rapid media campaign to shape the public narrative, with the Science Media Centre issuing expert commentary to “reassure both patients and prescribers” that most withdrawal symptoms were “not clinically significant.”

But for grassroots advocates who’ve spent years exposing the realities of withdrawal, the study felt like a gut punch. They argue it presents a dangerously misleading picture—one that could entrench outdated practices and delay long-overdue reform.

“The idea that withdrawal is rare or mild is a manufactured consensus based on industry-aligned data,” said Morgan Stewart of the advocacy group Antidepressant Coalition for Education. “This is a misleading analysis of antidepressant withdrawal.” …

“I know people, including members of my family, who’ve had a much worse time getting off of SSRIs than getting off of heroin,” he said at his confirmation hearing.

Critics called the comparison offensive. But many clinicians agree that SSRI withdrawal can be more painful, and last far longer, than opioid withdrawal.

Many patients stay on antidepressants—not because they still need them—but because coming off them is too agonising.

No More Denial

That’s exactly where the Kalfas study falls short. By relying on short-term, industry-funded data and ignoring the lived reality of withdrawal, it downplays a public health crisis hiding in plain sight.

The truth is, starting an antidepressant is easy. But stopping can be the hardest part.

And the longer psychiatry denies that truth, the more damage it does.