Then I quit Therapy

Yesterday I quit therapy.

The thought dwelt inside my head for a while and I finally acted accordingly.

I was confused, then I understood.

I was confused, then I understood.

At first I need to say, that I value the experience and it was an essential one. I cannot preclude a reversion of this circumstance, but for now I’ll do battle for myself.
The input given by my therapist is cherished and the tools she handed me to handle myself are fun to play around with.
Nonetheless is there a catch to all that happened.

 

Assertion without evidence
permits
dismissal without evidence.
Not sick since 1973

Not sick since 1973

The DSM, the Diagnostic and Stastical Manual of Mental Disorders, which sets the standards for your therapist or psychologist or psychiatrist to classify and diagnose a mental illness, is a complete joke. It ridicules scientific findings, is heavily influenced by pharmaceutical companies and written by their henchmen in blue-jeans and white.
The items are voted into existence and then included in the manual.
There is evidently a conflict of interest, when one can decide, which medication will be needed in the future and is coincidentally paid by the companies that produce those medicaments.
Luckily only about 56%  of the members accountable for decision-making at the DSM-5 have at least one financial tie to a pharmaceutical company.
The recent version, said DSM-5, renders every single human being mentally ill. With such a tool in hand psychiatrists already have become hitman working for third party interest via regular court appearances as expert witnesses. For example in Germany.

Diagnosis ad populum is not an option when lifes are at stake.

 

Gulp this. You will feel… Suicidal?

Since I regard the possibility of being depressive a true option I think about suicide on a constant, but negligible basis and with only minor depth. Meaning not about me committing such an act, but how people are driven to and by it, the disposition necessary, mainly a general overview into the matter.
From time to time it gets a little bit more personal.
I really wanted to know, what it would take for me transgressing my survival instinct and ending my life.

Promptly I received an answer.

Lobotmy - The cure of no choice untill the early 50's

Lobotmy – The cure of no choice untill the early 50’s

It takes a few white pills.
Its fucked up shit and I should have known. When the adverse reactions of the antidepressant listed are completely congruent with the symptoms one witnesses, there should be a second thought before swallowing such redundance.
Well, I took a decision and it brought a few gifts along.

One night, I did not get any sleep at all, as often is the case and I sat lonely in the dark on my bed. I pulled the blanket over my head, my legs to my chest and was just repetitively mumbling:”It is only in your head. It is not what you want. It is only in your head.”
I wanted to be in control so badly, that there seemed to be no other way than to end shit once and for all.

If you truly want to know the side effects of paroxetine: Have fun.

Seems like life is the side effect.

I was told that there is a chemical imbalance in my head. What I should have asked:
How is it imbalanced?
In which way do these pills influence this imbalance?
Do they influence each other?
Are antidepressants any more effective than sugar pills?

What I did ask…

I like pie.

Will there be pie?

 

When there are no consequences.

I would like to claim, that I see little bad will in this regard, but that would be a lie. Anyone obliged to the premise and superiority of the scientific method should be ashamed not recognizing this.
I know about the might of confidence in treating depression, but that I am obviously sensitive, highly emotional and confused does not mean, that I cannot cope with facts.
I truly understand and appreciate everyone concentrating on research in this field. There is  a lot to be done and certainly promising advances await us, but that doesn’t explain the past and current situation.

I do not pretend, that psychiatry or psychology has not managed helping a bunch of people, but there is a strong tendency to ignore collateral damage. I want to see repercussions for this. There will be sufficient methods of diagnosis in the future. A friend of mine has shown me what is to come regarding brain scans and I think the possibilities are enormous.
A therapist equipped with a proper diagnostic tool would be incredibly helpful and a valuable, integral part of any society.
That still does not excuse abusive structures and there should be consequences to such an outrage for those responsible. What if there are no consequences?
Every kid knows what happens.

The magic Pill.

The magic Pill.

 

Those who assume forfeit.

The diagnosis I received comprising depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, post traumatic stress disorder and tendencies towards borderline personality disorder, accidentally as I declared I would stop taking antidepressants, was for my taste a little bit over the top.

I wanted to explain my reasoning and motivation to my therapist, because I tend to feel connected to someone I share my innermost conflicts and disturbances with once a week. Unfortunately I was interrupted promptly and as so often declared a little rebel.
Rebel has the same stench as conspiracy theorist to me. An assertion without evidence and the indignation to ask further into the matter.

Is it solely my fault, when people constantly assume there is no valid reasoning underlying my behaviour?

 

Stand upright,

Jona
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One response to “Then I quit Therapy

  1. You had your good reasons to quit, and no one can ever claim you didn’t try. I found it interesting that you wanted to tell your therapist about quitting because you felt a connection with her. I also quit but I just stopped showing up one day. I always felt appreciation for my therapist but no sense of obligation to express my reasons. Maybe because they weren’t as solid and as well thought out as yours.

    I hope you find your own peace of mind regardless of where it comes from.

Get to my head!

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