Psychiatry as reductionist science

Psychiatry uses one explanation only for human behavior without even considering the variety of possible explanations. This is what reductionism is.

“The reason for your behavior is your mental illness.”

There is no argument and no other possibility. This is a way that those in power wield their control over patients in the artificial two-tiered society they themselves create, using a mythological limited and rigid belief system, rather than a wide range of what is possible in life.

Restraints, Trauma, and Alteration of Traumatic Memory by Injectable Drugs

A recent print article in New Scientist illustrates what we psych patients and survivors, as well as veterans have known all along. Drugs have been used to lessen the traumatic effects of medical harm. I believe there’s a sneaky little motive here. While institutions may claim the drugs are used to “calm” the patient, it makes little sense to “calm” an already restrained patient with Haldol. Haldol causes akathesia, that is, the urge to move one’s limbs, often one’s legs. With both legs tied, this means for many patients, the agitation will only worsen. They will not be calmed! Secondly, Haldol isn’t particularly sedating. Thirdly, if the patient has never had Haldol before, why on earth would NOW be the time to give a brand new drug the patient could be allergic to, while the patient is tied down? Should he/she have a dangerous allergic reaction while restrained, this could all turn very quickly into a medical emergency.

I think the Haldol is given for an alternate reason. Let’s look at the circumstances…..

What causes a traumatic reaction, that is, a reaction of PTSD-type? When you are truly very very scared? Scared for your life? According to the trauma folks, there are two types. One is when you are being chased and running like mad, running for your life, pursued, such as pursued by an attacker, or when a tidal wave comes after you, or in a fire when you must run out of your home very fast. Another is entrapment, when you are stuck, cornered, locked in somewhere and cannot get out, or pinned down. Rape is a pinned-down situation, as is surgery, as is restraints. Seclusion or any locked situation can also be traumatic, especially when the patient is threatened or if there’s no end in sight.

Do these “staff” know that restraints are traumatic? I think so. They give the drugs because they know damn well that giving drugs reduces the traumatic reaction. They are less likely to be sued later on for medical harm.

This has been known for ages. We don’t need a study to prove it, but it seems whoever did the study has it down now on paper. Give a person some drugs or ECT and they won’t be too upset if you have abused them, raped them, medically harmed them, done horrible things during surgery, or otherwise nearly killed them.

How was your stay in the mental spa?

“Oh, very pleasant, thank you. I got put in restraints one night, but of course I was being obnoxious they said, so I suppose I asked for it. Very pleasant stay.”

If you hear stuff like that coming from the mouths of compliant patients, maybe the above is the reason.

How to tell if a person is inebriated

Until now, there’s been no measurable way to tell if a person is under the influence of a number of known recreational substances. Now, it seems that psychiatry has come up with a test to see if a person is hopelessly drunk or stoned! This is very scientific! While you are sitting in the psychiatrist’s office, he gets out a ruler, one in millimeters, and measures the diameter of your pupils.

If you compliant enough to allow this creep to do this, you are probably on all sorts of drugs.

Further commentary as I read more about Libby Zion

I am enjoying the book I am reading about Libby Zion, written by Natalie Robins, called The Girl Who Died Twice. I have seen a few of the reviews of this book, mostly negative. I don’t agree that the book is “badly written.” I do see where Robins gets a bit bogged down with Libby’s father’s personality. Sidney Zion seems to be quite the character, for sure, and I feel he deserves credit for bringing the case to the level of publicity it received.

Think about this for a minute. Those of us who have been medically harmed…Can we even get an attorney to call us back? Think of the hours and hours we spend on the phone just trying to get one to speak to us. Think of the hours we spend getting responses like, “So what is the big deal?”

Look at the trouble we run into obtaining our medical records, which come back to us full of missing pages, lies, misstatements, inaccuracies, obvious “fudging,” and endless excuses! So many folks I know have tried to get their medical records and were told, “No such patient was ever at our facility!”

However, Sidney Zion was not going to take NO for an answer. He had money and clout. No one likes death. No one wants death. But there was death, sitting there like an ugly black mark New York Hospital had to account for.

But… I don’t think New York Hospital was at fault, nor do I think Libby was at fault. She already had a high fever when she came in, and was delirious, unable to think straight. Looks like the court did what it had to do…after ten years of squabbling. They decided to split the “fault” between Libby and the hospital. I don’t think that makes sense, either, but somehow, something was overlooked.

Libby came in on Nardil, and somehow, there was miscommunication and no one understood the importance of knowing that she was on this drug. You can’t give someone certain other drugs if she’s on Nardil, even if she hadn’t taken it for a few days. A few days means nothing. She’d been on it for a good solid six weeks or so.

I am not done with the book. Looks like Libby’s outpatient psychiatrist, Greenburg, did some bogus stuff and he was never faulted, nor even questioned. Sidney Zion had much trust in Greenburg. He was a family friend. I question a family  friend also being a shrink to one of the kids, that is, the ethics of this. In a place like New York City, the Zions had access to plenty of psychiatrists. So they didn’t have to resort to a family friend. Greenburg should not have treated her. He should have referred her elsewhere. Ethically speaking, that is.

What did he treat her with? Biofeedback. This was the first course of action. So he resorted to this as first course. Even then, biofeedback was dubious. Now, certainly. Why did he start with something dubious? She didn’t respond as well as he would have liked.

So then, apparently, according to Robins, he “tested her for a chemical imbalance.” Robins does not (so far in my reading) state exactly what sort of test this was. Did Natalie Robins even ask Greenburg what the test was? Did Robins even know there’s no test, no viable test that can detect such “chemical imbalance” that proves, or disproves, some sort of “brain imbalance” that Greenburg claimed Libby had? He claimed that Libby had an “atypical depression.”

I’m wondering if he was only inventing this after the fact, as justification for having put her on the Nardil. Listen: Nardil is not a usual drug. You can’t give it to anyone willy-nilly. It isn’t wise to give to a person 18 years old. He should not have given it to her without informing her PCP or pediatrician. Even though there was a confidentiality issue, the drug is so, so dangerous if mixed with other drugs, we’re dealing with a kid here! Or, he should have bargained with Libby that she wear a Medic Alert Bracelet stating she was on Nardil, or else he would not write the script. That alone could have saved her life.

If he was going to be responsible, he needed to stress to her, or to her parents, since she was barely an adult, just how risky this drug was. Why on earth he was giving this risky drug to a teen as first course of action is beyond me. And not only that, but he was seeing her short term. The plan was for her to go back to college, five hours away. He was dismissing her from his care. Who would follow up? So he was putting her on Nardil, a dangerous drug, and then what? Then she died.

Not only that, but back in the 1980’s a patient and her therapist had a close relationship. Not like nowadays. Much closer. Apparently, Libby was seeing this guy maybe twice a week. At least. And I believe spending a good hour or more each “session” doing this biofeedback. So I want to know why Greenburg, who supposedly knew her ins and outs so well, had no clue of her drug use? Aren’t they supposed to know that stuff, or at least suspect?

Yes, I have been to therapists who were clueless, very good ones, too. Good ones who really didn’t know what my daily life was like, nor had any clue what I felt passionate about. They knew about “symptoms” which had no relevance to me, who I was inside. This speaks volumes to the irrelevance of their therapy, to the ineffectiveness of their methods. And perhaps they should have scrapped their agenda, too, and just asked, or listened maybe.

And who got blamed for Libby’s death? It looks like after she showed up at the ER and ended up in on the hospital inpatient unit, the receiving hospital got the brunt of the blame. “Tired doctors.” I’m tired of this nonsense. The outpatient shrink went free.  What the heck happened to Greenburg? Is he still practicing his bogus shrinkery, testing patients for chemical imbalances that don’t even exist, prescribing dangerous drugs and not following up? Have there been any more wrongful deaths at his hand? What is the relationship between Sydney Zion and Greenburg now?

I am still reading the book and will let you guys know what else I am thinking.

Just one more reason to hate Marc and Angel…..

I hate Marc and Angel because….

3 Signs You Will Be Fine (Even If You Don’t Feel Fine Right Now)

For one thing, like the other gurus out there, they love to annoy us with these money-making pop-ups enticing us to BUY NOW or get on their mailing list or sign up for one of their expensive workshops and be brainwashed into their dogma forever.

Secondly, I notice that like the other gurus out there, they assume we’re all employed at Busy Jobs. Say what? The Busy Job Syndrome. Since when? A lot of folks are out of work these days, certainly not suffering from Busy Job Syndrome. But these gurus are not interested in those they cannot rip off, that don’t have paychecks. No, the gurus milk the employed. Follow your guru, and your paycheck will be gone!

Of course we all have so, so much on our plates…..yeah. The homes we own, the vacation, the cars, the RVs, the TVs, the DVR, the swimming pool the needs repair, the Wii, the screaming kids, the boss…..Marc and Angel, go screw.

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m happy to be free of all of the above, including Marc and Angel.

I hate Marc and Angel and similar gurus because of their gross assumptions. I hate their stereotypes and of course, their damn money.

How funny box cutter adventure…..

A few months ago I purchased a box cutter because I had too many boxes lying around. This is a consequence of relocating. This morning I was chopping up a box. I must admit I have gotten the hang of this! Chop chop chop!

There I was, chopping my box up. I must have been day-dreaming, or perhaps, early morning dreaming. I accidentally chopped me! Ooooops!

Almost all of the box was chopped, and I was a bit chopped, too. Only one tiny cut, which I hoped would not even bleed. However, it did. Slightly. Good thing I am no longer a “patient.” This little slice is in a terribly embarrassing place.

Anyway, I completely ignored my tiny slice and finished the job. I took all my nicely-chopped pieces and bagged them up. As usual. One more box killed, several more now to go. Actually, I must admit, I still have many more boxes to go. Now, though, I have this slice on me. What to do?

Oh well. It isn’t serious. It’s just a cut, no big deal. I am so glad I am not in the System. Thank goodness no appointments! If a shrink saw this, I’d get accused of self-harm! But it wasn’t! I was cutting up a box! Oh well….

Thank goodness no one is going to see this and I won’t have to explain this to anyone. Jeepers creepers. No nosy people in my life, no one who sees me as a nutcase who lives near me, and really, if anyone happens to glance my way, no way will they think of it as self-harm anyway. Big deal!

Only I am laughing thinking about the decades that things would have turned out differently. This would have ended up with a hospitalization at taxpayer expense. Probably at least a week, that is, thousands of dollars wasted taxpayer money, wasted on an unnecessary psych ward visit, wasted on unnecessary days incarcerated while I get accused of dangerousness that simply does not exist. They call that “precautions.” Why? Because of a phony diagnosis.

I have now ditched the diagnosis, so I have saved taxpayers a lot of money, and saved myself much grief and nuisance.

If no one sees you as a nut, you are not a nut. And that’s all there is to it.


Deliberate avoiding on the street

A long time ago I ran into someone I had not seen for a while. She saw me, and I saw her. She knew I saw her. She saw me walking down the street with my dog, Puzzle. Puzzle is off-white, small, and distinct-looking since her fur is somewhat curly, but somewhat not curly. Puzzle is not unfriendly, and this woman is not afraid of dogs. I think she has her own dog, but I am not sure. In the past we had been friendly, and spoken a number of times. She was on the same side of the street as I was, coming toward me. It had been raining, but wasn’t at the present time. She had an umbrella with her. That made sense, as it might start raining, might not.

I was happy to see her. This was during those dreaded silent years, 2012 and 2013. I was always happy to see someone I knew because I was so starved for conversation, real-time conversation, and sick of being put off to texting and Facebook by people who were deliberately shoving me away. So there she was. My rare opportunity at conversation. It was midday Sunday. I had missed church that day. It looked like she was leaving church. I knew she was not in a hurry. She was on her way home, coming toward me now. I waved eagerly. I felt a little ashamed for having missed church that day, but that didn’t matter too much right now.

She saw me. I know she did. How could she not? I was waving, facing her, with Puzzle. She isn’t vision impaired. And yes, it was her. Back then I could see fairly well and I was sure it was her. She took one look, put her umbrella up to hide herself, and then, crossed the street quickly to the other side.

I stopped and waited. I couldn’t believe what I saw. What was she doing? Yet it was really happening. She was actually avoiding me. Deliberately crossing and thinking I had not seen her. What a bitch!

I know some folks are shy. Maybe that was it. Maybe sometimes people are just so, so, so shy they can’t seem to strike up a conversation even with a person they already know.

This gal, though, in a previous conversation had ranted about how her Zyprexa had made her so much better and had “cured” her of everything that ailed her and she said that everyone should go on it. Oh she said she didn’t care about the weight gain. Jeepers. (I wonder if she can still walk or if she is using a walker now…..or if she has diabetes, heart disease, tardive dyskinesia, or whatever.)

I will never know why she crossed the street that day. Had she been a bit more considerate, she would have contacted me and said, “I’m sorry, I was lost in thought and didn’t even realize what I was doing.” Or, “I’m sorry, I didn’t feel like talking. Nothing personal.”

I wonder if this person even realized the impact that tiny act had on me. I was devastated by what she did. It symbolized, to me, loss, deep loneliness, social othering, and being made into a criminal when I had not committed a crime. It symbolized everything that went wrong in Watertown. In another age, that is called a witch-hunt or lynching.

Those days are over.  I hope I never have to live though something like that again.

Groups, leadership, and takeover

Thanks to a pal for pointing this out.

Groups have their ups and downs. Sometimes we start groups with the best of intentions but somehow, the group gets hijacked. Has this ever happened to you? You start a chess club,  but some asshole would rather play checkers. So he says, “Hey, does anyone want to play checkers, come meet with me over there!” and he invites the guys over to Starbucks. Soon, you’re all alone at Dunkin Donuts where you had meeting for the chess club for the past six months. You carry your chess pieces home for the final time, disgusted. They even took the chess board. Now, it’s a checkers board.

That happened to me. I used to be a member of Weight Watchers Online. I started a Mental Illness thread. Okay, okay, I know….yeah I have the right to change my mind and did…..Anyway, many joined. Then, another gal started a Lexapro thread. So all those gals joined that one. Then, they claimed she started the whole thing. She didn’t. I had started it, but never mind that.

I thought it would be good for us to get off of Weight Watchers, maybe have our own site. So I started one. They complained and complained, saying they didn’t like it.

Another gal said, “I can do it better.” So she actually MOVED THE SITE. Took it off and moved the site to another URL. They called Debby their hero and said she was so fucking smart. Then they said that Debby had started it. No, I started it, but Debby stole it.

I had started the group and initiated our move off of Weight Watchers. All of us were overweight from psychiatric drugs. I was the only one who had lost all the weight I had gained from the drugs.

I guess they were just plain jealous. One day, they got very hostile and kicked me out. Yep, I had started it, but they kicked me out. Then, they patted themselves on their backs and told themselves “job well done” and over and over about how great they were, getting rid of the “bad apples” in the group.

They also said I was “no longer a person.” Debby said that.

One day they said I was “violent” and all of them locked their doors in group paranoaic fear. Another time they said Welfare should take Puzzle should be taken away from me and I should be forcibly locked up for a long time. Another time they said I had a personality disorder. One of them sent the cops to my home. One of them had a relative on the local cop force so yes it got scary. She was on the West Coast but she said she could call her brother-in-law and find out all the dirt on what they knew about me. They honestly thought (in their mass paranoia) that I was going to go on a shooting rampage and “kill them all.”

That was 2012. Yeah that was one bad year all right.

This is a result of false notions, false fears, totally incorrect notions about a person. They were completely wrong.

Please, either laugh or cry. I have no clue which would be a more emotionally appropriate response for these losers.