Please wear one of these to work and see how fast you get fired

Here is the link:

Here are the shirts:

Do you really want to BOAST about your past or present diagnosis? Yes, it’s okay to be sad, in fact, sad is not a disease, but let’s stop right there. I doubt you want to boast that you ever saw a therapist and took pills while you’re at work. I doubt you want to mention the word “stigma” unless you’re saying “There’s a stigma to working here at McDonald’s.” Or boast that you went to treatment, nor boast that it runs in the family.You might not keep your job very long! Even worse, tell them you used to take pills, and then, tell them you don’t really have a diagnosis. Unless you are particularly convincing, they’re likely to roll their eyes, pick up the phone, and call 911. After you get that mess straightened out, you are likely to discover you’re job hunting again.

Never mind that, this t-shirt company is a NAMI corporate sponsor. Catch my drift?

Is your dog spoiled, too! Check out this article on nagging!

Puzzle has started nagging me too much! I only want her nagging when she really has to go, or when she’s truly out of water or if there’s something burning on the stove. I don’t want her nagging me because she wants some more veggies while she only just got some five minutes ago. Nagging should serve a vital purpose and she shouldn’t do it for manipulation. This means I’ve been spoiling her just a little too much. Ooooops! Here is an article on nagging and how it developed. The article is in relation to “petting” but in Puzzle’s case, I’ve been giving her veggies out of the fridge every time she nags. Same diff.

How to stop your dog from pawing you all the time.

She doesn’t paw. She growls and wiggles her back end and makes a general nuisance of herself and won’t be satisfied with just one green bean. She demands another and another! Then, a piece of frozen bread, a few slices of carrot, some slices of green pepper. Oh, my spoiled doggie cannot get enough! She isn’t starving!  I’ve fed her her chicken dinner already! What to do?

According to the article, I should be patient and firm. No more. You are not getting anymore food. You are going to have to wait, I am not taking you out…you just went out five minutes ago……

I will keep you all posted on how it goes.

Except likely in a few days she may not nag anymore, but likely my dog will still run my life. That, my friends, is better than having psychiatry run your life. Pick your poison, I suppose.

New York Times article on suicide, and my commentary

Here is the article, which I suggest all readers read in full.


Now, I am a psychiatric survivor. Not that anyone particularly wants to hear the voices of psych survivors these days. In fact, there’s a move to keep our voices silenced. I believe this has been recently illustrated on MIA and elsewhere in an article on the silencing of a TED speaker, Julia Rutledge who spoke on nutrition  in a TED Talk. Later, she was flagged by none other than TED itself!

As a survivor, I am regularly called “dangerous.” I am regularly called delusional and paranoid. Readers here can judge for yourselves I suppose. I have been unfriended to the point of having no friends at all for a couple of years, way back when. However, more and more are joining our cause, so let’s just say I am alone in my quest no more!

Now for the New York Times article….I challenge immediately: Since when is SUICIDE a health crisis? Think on that one. While it does cause death, it is not a disease per se. It is not caused by disease, which the CDC validates. Suicide itself isn’t a disease. So why is it a health issue at all? How can it be an “epidemic” if it isn’t a disease? It may be socially contagious, but it’s not physically contagious via germs. I don’t think they’ve found an actual gene for suicide! While it may be socially passed in families, as it is among friends, they have yet to find a genetic cause for suicide, and I doubt they will. They are not going to find some “chemical imbalance” that causes it, either.

They have never found a chemical imbalance that causes depression, psychosis, nor mania. They used to think that low serotonin caused depression. This is simply not true. People with low, normal, or even high serotonin have depression. They used to think that high dopamine caused mania and caused psychosis. However, what they actually found was that people with high, normal, and low dopamine all had psychosis and mania. There was simply no correlation.

They also found that both dopamine antagonists, meaning drugs that block dopamine (such as Thorazine) and Reserpine, which does the opposite, can affect mania.  They never figured out why. They do know that drugs that block dopamine cause serious problems if taken long-term, no matter why you took the drugs, even if they were given off-label for back pain or for no reason at all. If you try to stop them, you won’t be able to sleep! Then, sadly, you might be convinced you have a chemical imbalance, but the truth is, you’ve become drug-dependent!

In my opinion, people commit suicide without telling anyone because they know damn well that if they did, they’d be incarcerated. To properly and effectively off oneself, one must not tell a soul. This is well-known nowadays. If you tell someone, you can expect a cop visit. If you post how you feel on Facebook, expect Facebook to send the police. If  you talk at school, expect to be kicked out. Expect to lose your job. See? Did Kate Spade want to be locked up? Sounds like Anthony Bourdain was smart enough to know. And you folks? If you’re planning suicide, you know enough to keep it to yourselves. And for your sake, I hope you are NEVER locked up!

I do not want to die in a hospital. I feel so, so strongly about this that I am hoping that if I am ever shot I hope I die before the ambulance gets to me. I hope if I am ever hit by a car I die instantly and not in a hospital. If I have a heart attack I don’t want to die while being touched by a nurse or doctor. I don’t want to die while feeling terrified of abuse.  If I ever do suicide, i don’t want my last minutes of life to be their attempt to revive me. Just let me die alone rather than be touched by medical personnel.

I hope, for you guys, that you are never, ever locked up again. It is abuse. If you choose suicide, it is your choice. I would never wish incarceration for anyone. It is worse than death for many of us, especially for those of us with a history.

Whoever wrote that article had no clue of this fear we feel.  If you were never abused in a hospital you likely wouldn’t mind, but once it happens to you, you cannot go back. No wonder.



Herbal remedy popcorn

If you like popcorn as much as I do, try sprinkling healthy herbs on it instead of salt! Try this:

Kidney Popcorn
Pop the popcorn in an air popper
Melt some oil (I use coconut oil but I bet there are others that would be better!)
Dribble the melted oil on top of the popped popcorn
Dribble a few drops of toasted sesame oil also
Sprinkle on:
Horsetail extract powder (it tastes salty due to the silica content)
Finely ground celery seed or celery seed extract powder
Brewer’s yeast

Now, you have popcorn that helps your kidneys! If the diuretic effect of the herbs depletes you of potassium, add potassium salt (fake salt) to the popcorn, too, and supplement with Thiamine because that, too, can get depleted.

Thiamine comes in 100mg pills.  But I take it in powder form at a whopping 2,000 mgs every night to get myself to sleep. You could likely take 4,000 a day with no ill effects.

Does anyone know anything about Alternative to Meds dot com?

I’m looking over their ebook. Although some of what they say is unsubstantiated, I believe that their vitamin suggestions for various med-related maladies are valid and valuable.  I have the ebook downloaded and I find these simple vitamin suggestions are reasonable and inexpensive to implement.

Raising your protein intake, stopping smoking or cutting down, lowering sugar intake, increasing exercise…all these are reasonable suggestions. They also suggest specific vitamins, for instance, Niacin, which of course must be taken carefully (if you’ve ever had the “flush” you know what I mean!). They say that smoking is harmful due to the arsenic content in cigarettes, never mind other things.

I can see from reading this book that I could somehow derive a protocol for binge eating, and I can see that it would not be the same for everyone. Some derive pleasure from bingeing, while others decidedly do not.

Binge eating, for me, arose as part of anorexia recovery. However, I never realized this. I had never heard of anorexia, didn’t know I was “recovering” from it, nor from anything, didn’t know what “weight restoration” was, didn’t know that ravaging hunger was a part of post-AN stabilization, either. I was distraught over the binge eating. What I never knew was that the bingeing was totally normal.

However, my immersion into psychiatry and therapy caused the binge eating to last and last and last, well beyond the time period that it would have otherwise. Yes, I was still miserable! Of course!

I believe this handbook on getting off drugs is helpful, but do you guys know of these folks? I have not heard of them. Are they a ritzy place? Cost way over the heads of the average survivor? Or perhaps a scam?  I don’t even know if they’re legit. Why have we not heard of them, if they’ve been around as long as they say they have? I contacted them and asked who runs the place. Figured I would ask.

Dear CDC, you have it wrong….

Here is a graph courtesy of the CDC…

Now it seems that the CDC failed to collect data on “contact with mental health professional” or “incarceration for supposed mental condition.”

Did you know that incarceration for a mental condition increases likelihood of suicide by a factor of 100? This, most embarrassingly, according to a JAMA study I have linked to in the past.

You cannot have a mental health diagnosis unless you are diagnosed. To be diagnosed, you have to have contact with the System, with a professional who has legal rights to diagnose you. A diagnosis isn’t medical, it’s a legal proclamation denying you basic human rights. Only you likely don’t realize that. At first. And many don’t realize it for decades.

I’m not saying that people do not suffer. Many do. I did myself. I was horribly depressed, especially over my ED. I was miserable, even before my initial contact with the MH System. My life really was a wreck at the time. I took myself to therapy voluntarily, hoping for a cure to my eating problems.

I didn’t get that. I got an irrelevant mental health diagnosis and pills. Oops.

After that, I believed the diagnoses for decades….Oops. But the truth is, you can, and do, and will, suffer immensely and that does not have to be called a medical disease. Christians say Christ suffered more than any human ever could possibly suffer.

Jesus wept. He wept because of the human condition. He wept because he felt deeply.

MLK suffered also. He was frustrated as an activist because he felt that things were not changing fast enough, that they had not touched enough people, even though the Movement had done so many amazing things. I believe he knew he’d be killed, foresaw his death somehow, and knew that the Movement would have to go on without him.

I would like to suggest that the suffering that MLK felt, and the suffering that Jesus felt, these were powerful and immense, and I validate this, but it would be trivializing the human condition to label their deep suffering as a mere disease.

YOUR suffering is deep and great. I would never trivialize human suffering by calling it a disease or a disorder of the sufferer, which is blameful indeed. We live in a cruel society, and life is very very harsh. There’s much reason to suffer, much reason to weep.  Even reason to kill yourself, for some. I would never call that depth of thinking a disease, even though I may have in the  past.

Feel deeply, and know that your feelings mean you are human. You are beautiful. This, to me, is what God means, or perhaps godliness. If you suffer, you are a one of God, none less than that. You are blessed. You and your life are sacred indeed.

What traditional ED “care” is like and why it so often fails

This is what traditional “care” for eating disorders is like….

The first goal is to knock down the patients’ current ideology. They do this by telling the patient their lives are unmanageable. Here, the First Step of AA works brilliantly. Your life is unmanageable because of your ED. They will point out how things are out of control. Your marriage. Your kids. Your job. Your social life. Your house is a mess, your clothes don’t match, you look a wreck. Your behavior is erratic. You have anxiety. You can’t control your drinking, either. You got into a car wreck. Your grades are faltering. They’ll tell you anything, any reason to knock down current beliefs.

Then what? They place blame on a fictitious Devil named Ed. Ed is to blame for your crap life! Ed is the Bad Guy, the Devil who has taken possession of you! Ed lives inside  you, and only “treatment” can get Ed out! But you have to follow every word we say. We’re the authorities. Only the Staff can tell you how to get Ed out. The Staff are the experts on life itself! The Staff have it all together; patients do not.

Now what? You must follow what Staff says. You must do what the therapist orders. You are possessed. All ED’s are sneaky liars, so you cannot be trusted. From now on, Staff will weigh you because you, Sneaky Liar, will lie about your weight. You, Sneaky Liar, will lie about what you are eating so from now on, Staff decides what you’ll eat. And Staff will watch you every second of the day, even watch you pee and poop.

In some facilities, patients are watched while they shower. In other facilities, showers reek of vomit since this is the only private place the patients have. Do they vomit due to some horrible illness? Or do they vomit out of sheer desperation because their human rights are denied?

The staff know better. Staff will tell you what to do, and they know you better than you know yourself. They know and you do not. What they say goes. You have no rights. Human rights do not exist on this Unit. Nor in ED therapy, where you are force-weighed, regularly threatened, accused of lying whether you are or not, and coerced onto a meal plan. If they want to monitor you more closely, all they have to do is accuse you of suicidality. That ALWAYS works. You’ll be guaranteed 1:1 monitoring, ordered by a doctor, and no amount of protesting will end the abuse.

What will end this? Starving yourself to death is a viable and often appealing way out. Why? They can’t stop you, can they? What a game this has become, whether you realize it or not, you’re playing a Game of Death where the Thinner is the Winner.

There IS a way out, and it’s not death at all. You stop playing the game. That’s right. Quit. End it. Stop the game. Call it a truce, or make like your mommies called you in for milk and cookies so you have to put away your chess set now. Sorry, no checkmate. Not today. Walk away and end it.

Walk away from the fake game and walk into your life. I guarantee that life will treat you better than ED “care” which is riddled with human rights abuses. While I know life itself is a game of sorts, how you play that game is up to you. You can wear many hats, choose your strategy, and play it fast or slow. In ED “care,” they choose that path, the path that so often leads to death or permanent disability. In life, the choice is yours.

What may have been true was that eating was difficult. But you are not hopeless, not defective, not “overly needy,” not hopelessly dependent, nor inferior, not a liar, not sneaky, and just as trustworthy as anyone else. Many people have difficulties. This is just one of them. I don’t think it warrants them denying your human rights, that is, denying your humanness.

Go show them. Never mind that, show yourself.

What my doctor told me

My doctor told me I was “bipolar.” I didn’t question it because a doctor said so.

My doctor told me I had schizoaffective disorder, which I did not question because a doctor said so.

My doctor said I was depressed.

My doctor said I was manic.

My doctor said I was psychotic.

My doctor said I was severely mentally ill, and that I had a seizure disorder. I did not question because a doctor said so.

A doctor said I heard voices. I tried to hear them but couldn’t. I felt ashamed, deficient.

I complained to my doctor about my eating disorder and he said “You are faking your ED for attention.” I knew this was untrue, but who can contradict a doctor?

I asked my doctor if I could lower my pills. He said, “It’s not advisable.” I didn’t dare ask why, but my parents asked, many times. They challenged the doctors and my brother did, too. My parents have three master’s degrees between them and my brother has a PhD in physics.

The doctors never gave my parents nor my brother an answer. They did say my father was “weak” and my mother they claimed was “histrionic.” The truth was that my father had cancer and my mother was a professional dancer, not histrionic at all!

I continued to take their pills, believing I had a mental disorder, because my doctors said so. Not one of them challenged the mental illness narrative. Not one challenged what the past doctors had said. Not one could come up with any test results proving I had a mental illness. Still, I faithfully believed them, believed in my illnesses and disability and incapability and drug-dependency for life. Because my doctor said so.

You may be wondering why I never challenged it all those years, why I stubbornly clung to the mental illness myth even though it was clearly untrue (when you look at the facts). I clung to it because the doctors said so.

If a new doctor had come along, some young rebel, and told me I didn’t have a mental illness, that I didn’t have bipolar or schizoaffective, I would have argued stubbornly for the mental illness. I would have insisted I needed the drugs and would have concluded the new rebel doctor was a “bad doctor.” I would have quit him and gone back to the ones that proclaimed me sick and disabled. I wouldn’t have wanted to disrupt the cozy little place I was in. Because a doctor said so.

Had I developed such bad kidneys that I needed dialysis, and not turned it around when I did, I would have faithfully gone to dialysis and clung to my drugs, insisting that I “needed” the drugs, insisting that I “needed” the doctors. I would have died at 59, insisting I was “bipolar” and stubbornly believing I had no choice. I would have died with those promises on my lips. Because a doctor said so.

I am not dead, though. How odd is that? How cunning, how clever of me! How did I slip past the watchful guards? How did I tiptoe around the Gate of Death and walk beyond, alive?

We can all do this. We can all be escapees, but you must be clever and quick. You must realize the doctors aren’t necessarily right nor wrong. They aren’t you. They aren’t inside your body and soul. They aren’t the authorities on life. They are not God. You are the authority on your own life.

Take it back. Grab it now and walk. Walk. Walk. They won’t even notice, because you walk with pride and confidence. Hold your head high. You are not defective. You are not inferior. You are you. Walk past with lightness in your soul and quiet in your feet. You will live. You will live. You will live.

Because you say so. This time, you say it. Live.