I’ve asked myself why this happens. A handful of others in the Movement have told me that they, too, get trolls and bullying. What’s going on here?
A friend of mine (okay, I’ve never met him) says that people are doing this to me because my existence challenges their core beliefs. They feel frightened that a person would stop “treatment” and then end up better off. They are scared because they’ve been inundated with lies and they cling to their “treatment” cuz it’s all they’ve got.
Of course, he’s right. That’s all I had, too. My whole world was therapy, groups, one crisis after another, taking pills, and going to appointments. I’d end up in hospitals all the time and wonder why.
I see others in this situation. Going back again and again to their beloved hospitals. It’s in these hospitals where they find community. Maybe they don’t have any other place to go to be loved.
A “staff talk” isn’t love. Someday, those kids will realize this. Someday, they’ll realize that you don’t get better behind locked doors. You’ll never find peace with yourself or your body if it’s forced on you.
Imagine being forced to go to a yoga class and hating it. It’s not gonna provide much benefit then, right? Cuz it’s forced. Food tastes terrible while every bite you eat has to get approval from staff. You don’t learn to eat that way.
You learn if you have to to survive. As if your life depended on it. Cuz take away the rescuers, and you’ll find that you rescue yourself far better than “staff” ever did.
Do you really want a life of group after group? Do you want a life of endless appointments? That means no chance of employment, going to school, or having real friends. Cuz all your pals are treatment pals or “staff,” and staff are paid to be nice to you. Or not so nice.
I know it’s very hard to hear what I am saying. Twenty years ago I would have told 56-year-old me that she didn’t know what she was talking about. I would have gotten mad, or even hurt. I would have tried to convince 56-year-old me, who now knows better, that I had a permanent disabling disorder and I’d die without psychiatric medications and “therapy.” I had a therapist tell me the same thing, “Without treatment, you’ll die.” In fact, I remember quoting her here in my blog. That must have been 2009.
She was one of the decent therapists. However she happened to be wrong on that one. Just cuz someone is nice doesn’t mean they are always right.
Take that leap. Do it. Believe in possibility.