Akathisia is one of the most brutal, misunderstood symptoms linked to psychiatric drugs. And it’s not just from benzodiazepines—it can happen with antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, stimulants, and yes, benzos too. In truth, any psychiatric drug can cause akathisia.

It can show up when someone first starts a drug, at any point while taking it exactly as prescribed, or most commonly during withdrawal or protracted withdrawal syndrome (PWS/BIND). That’s why so many people are blindsided—they think they’re “relapsing,” when really their nervous system is in crisis from the drug itself.

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Akathisia on the Spectrum..

Some doctors measure akathisia with something called the Barnes Akathisia Scale, but the reality is it sits on an even wider spectrum—from mild inner agitation to unbearable torment that can feel life-threatening.

When I experienced akathisia on antidepressants, it showed up as rapid, racing thoughts—like Eminem spitting lyrics at 120 miles an hour—paired with the compulsion to pace just to burn through the energy.

In benzo withdrawal and injury, akathisia felt completely different for me. It was darker, heavier—more like a death sentence than restlessness. The terror was bone-deep, and it felt impossible to survive, while needing to chaotically pace the premise of my home... 

Akathisia can manifest differently for everyone and across different drugs, but one truth holds: it’s not “just anxiety.” It’s a neurological injury, and its intensity can be devastating.

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What Akathisia Felt Like for Me

Akathisia wasn’t just “restlessness.” For me, it felt like I was being hunted from the inside out—as if ten drooling lions were chasing me, ready to rip me apart, every second of every day. My own body became the cage, and I was the prey trapped inside it.

The torment was endless. It forced me onto my feet, pacing and rocking until my skin blistered and my feet bled. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t lie down. The second I tried to rest, my body screamed at me to move, to crawl, to claw at the walls of my own house while the outside world went on as if nothing was wrong.

It felt like the worst acid trip, as the room warped around me and I would rock forward and back at a rapid pace. It reminded me of the Hollywood movies where you see someone withdrawing from heroin and rocking back and forth—but in my case, it wasn’t slow rocking. I was flying back and forth at a much faster, frantic pace. I would try to restrain myself because the rocking made me so dizzy, but the second I held back, the dizziness actually increased, and it felt like my entire equilibrium flipped upside down.

Once I entered PWS/BIND and lost about 98% of my mobility, I no longer had the ability to pace. That made the akathisia turn inward even more—it internalized—and it felt like my muscles and limbs were being ripped off from the inside out. My jaw would unhinge and clench so tight it felt like I would crack or shatter every single tooth (at some point, I fractured a tooth due to the clenching). It was torture without an outlet, trapped energy tearing through my body with nowhere to go.

It drove me into constant suicidal thinking—not because I wanted to die, but because it hijacked me nevrous system to believe I should die, while the pain was inhumane. Every moment, my mind calculated: Would it be my shoelace? A 9mm? Drowning myself in the pool? Poison? The thoughts weren’t abstract—they were relentless, invasive, forced upon me by a nervous system that felt like it was on fire.

I felt like I was crawling out of my own skin, desperate to escape, but trapped in a body that betrayed me. The terror was so consuming that I couldn’t tell anyone except my husband—not doctors, not friends—because I knew if I admitted how bad it was, I’d be locked in an inpatient center and pumped full of more drugs by a system that didn't understand psych drug harm and would only add to the damage.

Akathisia wasn’t “anxiety.” It was violent torture. A chemical injury that hijacked my body, my brain, and my will to live.

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What Helped Me Survive Akathisia…

The cure is time, but a few survival strategies helped me through:

• Cool water: During my taper, cool showers and getting into a pool sometimes gave me brief relief. Once I was in PWS/BIND, it no longer helped me—but I’ve seen others say it does bring relief even then. Coolness can help regulate the nervous system, but it needs to be approached gently, since sudden temperature changes can overwhelm a fragile system.
• Distraction: Sometimes distraction was the only way through. I was so dizzy I couldn’t drive, but I’d ask my husband to take me out in the car. The movement, the change of scenery, the gentle music, the sense of being outside my body for even a moment—it helped me survive the waves.
• During PWS/BIND: When I lost 98% of my mobility and akathisia felt like it was ripping my muscles and nerves from the inside out, I would put on YouTube and listen to Near Death Experiences just to help a half hour pass. It didn’t erase the torment, but it gave my mind something to hold onto besides the pain. Later on, once my nervous system could handle even a little bit of stimulation, I started to bring back music in small doses. Sometimes a song was enough to partly distract me from the chaos in my body, even if only for a few minutes.

These things didn’t “fix” akathisia, but they gave me small breaks in the storm. And in withdrawal, even the smallest breaks can mean survival.

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Final thoughts…

Akathisia nearly broke me. It’s one of the most dangerous and under-recognized symptoms of psychiatric drug harm. People don’t die from akathisia because they’re weak—they die because the inner torment is indescribable.

If you’re experiencing it, know this: you’re not imagining it. You’re not “relapsing.” It’s not you—it’s drug injury. And while it can feel endless, with time and nervous system repair, it does ease. Hold onto the lifelines, no matter how small—they’re sometimes what carry us through the darkest nights.

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One Love, 

Malissa