He's horrible off his medication! That shows that he needs it!

I think a lot of people who submit to psychiatric drugging are quite ignorant about withdrawal symptoms, especially those who are close to the 'afflicted', and thoroughly scared. To those who believe that the person is the problem, it fits neatly into their world view to attribute such break downs to someone being 'fucked up' because they have a mental illness that only being on the medication 'cures'.

The reality of this is very, very different. Sudden withdrawal, missing a dose, or in some cases even taking a dose at the wrong time has been shown to have moderate to severe side effects (beyond what may already be present), often a much worse version of the persons' previous behaviors that ended up with them on drugs and/or 'hospitalized' in the first place. Peter Breggin, in 'The anti-depressant fact book' details this quite well. One, when withdrawing from psychiatric drugs should always do such in a slow manner as to not create a system shock when a chemical is withdrawn from the body.

First off, 'scientists' don't even know the functions of chemicals such as Serotonin in their entirety. Second of all, the trials to justify the mass drugging of the public have been shown time and time again to be fatally flawed through splicing/pooling of data, renaming, and other treachery. In an area poorly understood and highly subjective, an accurate scientific perspective is virtually impossible, particularly when huge conflicts of interest are at work. The brain does compensate for these additional chemicals in often negative ways that go awry when usage is stopped suddenly. The reality is that these 'reputakes' are often biologically similar to 'illicit' street drugs at equivalent dosage, it is just that such street drugs are usually taken at much higher dosages, and have a shorter half life, thus more addictive potential. However, some psychiatric drugs have a very short half life, thus their addictive potential remains fairly high.

I would like to conclude this blog post with a bit of insight into the 'stigma' surrounding mental illness. Many people believe that the way to erase this stigma is through more 'bio-psychiatry' and understanding of the 'workings of the brain'. I find the opposite; that these types of beliefs actually increase the stigma surrounding the subject. The reasons? It should be obvious. When the person is blamed, others are absolved of responsibility (including institutional society itself), and the observer is free from having to relate to said person with empathy and understanding. They also conceive the notion that this cannot happen to them, and that such a person has no justification for the way they feel, rather is a 'chemical monster' or 'genetic mutant'. It's a tricky way to turn people against each other; to encourage those who seek guidance and solace to shoot themselves in the foot by subtly encouraging more labeling and drugging.

Nightmare: A short story by...me!

Nightmare

August 29, 2005. To many, this day started like any other. But to I, Daniel Hayes, it was nothing short of a nightmare. I guess most of us never really find out just what the hell goes on behind the annals of television broadcasts and the gossip at dinner parties until we experience it ourselves, and that is exactly what this is about.

It was early in the morning, on August 28, and I was headed to work. First, I filed some paper work, argued briefly with a colleague about some insurance statistics, and got a coffee from the machine outside, and went back inside to organize some more files, then….I snapped out of my daze. To my surprise, I had been daydreaming about my daily work routine with the engine on, which felt even more pathetic than the horrible excuse for a job I had.

I managed to make it to work on time, but as soon as I arrived, I was greeting by the barking call of my boss, and a subsequent plop of a huge pile of paperwork. Denying insurance claims did make me feel like an asshole, but I knew that if I didn’t deny enough, I would probably be fired. Nothing else happened that day, aside from a small lunch break. After what seemed like days, it was 4:30. Finally, I was free to waste my time at home, though I had to stop at the store because Janet had insisted that I stock up on some essentials, though I felt that we had more than enough. The light drizzle had turned to a downpour, but rainstorms were relatively common and nothing to be worried about.

All of the weather forecasters insisted that this was going to be a minor storm by the time it hit us, if it did at all, so naturally I remained a bit stubborn despite going along with it. I was more interested in satisfying her than really preparing, since what was bickering over twenty bucks worth anyway? The same scare mongering had happened in the past, and I had ignored it. Nobody in the store looked particularly concerned, which further helped me accept that absolutely nothing could go wrong. I pulled into the supermarket, picked out various foods and necessities, and brought the shopping cart to the cash register.

“That’ll be 29.46” said the cashier dully, as I pulled out a small wad of bills. I had also bought a few cases of beer, since I knew I would be utterly bored without being able to drive anywhere. The day had been difficult, and I couldn’t stand my boss. At least something had to go right.

“Thanks,” I muttered after grabbing my receipt. I rushed through the pouring rain to my black BMW. Instead, I ended up wandering around for about a minute while becoming thoroughly drenched before finding it. Oddly enough, I didn’t even remember what I was talking about. Driving home was slow with massive traffic, and I was relieved when I finally reached the Blockbuster near my home to pick up a few DVD’s so that I wouldn’t rot in my house. After all, what fun was getting drunk without having a good movie on?

Weary from a boring day at work, I picked out several films that looked interesting from the shelf. It seemed as though I was forgetting something. I paid the clerk and deposited the rest of the money into a children’s cancer fund jar, then walked outside to find a boy, no more than eight years old clad in slicker and holding a large bucket.

“Excuse me mister, would you like to make a contribution to UNICEF?” the child asked innocently.

“Fuck…” I grumbled, but then turned around and gave the kid a twenty.

“Wow, thanks a lot!” the kid said, but by then I was already fifty feet away. My clothes were beginning to get wet and I didn’t want to have to take time out of my relaxation to fix myself up all over again, but I managed to get back in time without being soaked, this time being more careful not to zone out in the middle of the rainstorm. The ride home from Blockbuster was quick, and I couldn’t help wishing that I would get the day off from work tomorrow. It was tentatively canceled, but this was not a certainty given the possibility of a weakened storm. I pulled in rather quickly, eager to get into the house and avoid the rain, but instead was greeted with the screeching of tires and a loud bang.

“GOD DAMNIT” I yelled. “I just got this thing painted, rrrrrrgh….” I exited the car, and to my great dismay, there was a small but deep dent in the left bumper where it had made contact with the bird bath. The dent would cost me at least a thousand, or if the insurance would pay for it, I’d have to pay later. Janet was standing at the door with a rather upset look on her face, but before talking I backed the car up and parked it properly and brought everything in.

“Damn tires…this is the worst possible timing, it wasn’t my fault…” I mumbled to her.

“Honey, the kids are upstairs. You know we shouldn’t talk like that…” she said. I didn’t react in the slightest.

“Oh, and about the car, I don’t really care about that. I’m just glad you made it home fine, it’s pouring pretty badly out there. And I’m glad that you picked up all that we needed”

Slightly more relieved, I opened a bottle of beer and chugged it in a few gulps.

”Did you get any movies?” she asked. “Anything for Dylan?”

“Ugh….oh crap, I forgot…” I grumbled. “Can we just let him watch what I got for us?”

“These are all rated R.” Now they’re going to be bored.”

“We could always just let him watch…”

“Okay, I don’t want to baby him, but you know that this is too much for an eight year old, honey.”

“Whatever... Do you want me to go to the video store and pick up Monsters inc. or some other stupid crap?”

“Don’t talk about it like that! He likes those movies. And no…it’s getting really bad out.”

“Can I at least park the car in the garage?”

“It’s full. My friend wanted to park in case the storm got bad, because she doesn’t have one of her own.”

I found it to be ridiculous that I could not park my car in my own garage, but I decided that it would be better not to say anything. After all, if the weather really was going to be as the forecasters had said, it was unlikely that any damage was going to come of it. Things could not get much worse, anyway. I threw an empty bottle into the trash and opened another beer.

“Dan, are you sure you don’t want to leave? Everyone has gone… It could get pretty dangerous…”

“No, I’m going to go lie down” I said, without a response from Janet. Within a few minutes, I was fast asleep, without even realizing it. No dreams came to me that night, and I lay completely still until a loud bang woke myself and Janet up at 3:30 in the morning.

“What the hell?” I yelled over what sounded like the roaring wind. It astonished me that I had slept through such a racket. My wife had also woken up upon my exclamation.

“I’m going to go check on the kids, alright?” I groaned.

“I’ll come too” Janet said, and followed me downstairs. It was not long before I felt dampness on the steps, and I continued, hoping that this was all that was present. Unfortunately, with about two steps remaining, I hit water.

“Shit, the whole damn place is flooded.” Janet did try to appear calm, but actually looked pissed off for the first time in awhile.

“We have to get to Dylan’s room. How in the world are they asleep?” I said. My wife and I both knew that if the water level rose just a bit more, they could be in danger.

“Janet, you grab the food, and get my pistol in case things get really bad. I’ll get the kids.” It seemed strange, but I felt that I could get them out more quickly.

“Your pistol?” Janet said, confused. “What the fuck do you need that for?” I was slightly taken aback by her comment, as I had not heard her speak like that in months.

“I’m not going to shoot anyone, just bring it upstairs and I’ll hide it. Besides, I don’t want the damn thing getting waterlogged.” We also agreed to get as many nonessentials as possible if we had the time to. The water level did not seem to be rising at any visible rate, at least for now. I opened the door to my son’s room to find him indeed still asleep, and quickly roused him.

“What’s going on, daddy?” he asked.

“It’s the storm. The house is flooded, and we need to go upstairs now to wait for help” I explained patiently.

“Will we be okay?” He formed a scared look in his face as he looked around the room.

“Yeah, everything will be okay. We just have to get upstairs in case the water goes higher. Don’t worry, we’ll be safe there.”

“Come on, give mom a big hug” Janet said to Dylan, as she walked past me. Suddenly, a big roar sounded, and before I knew it, they both were gone in a rushing torrent, followed by several distant, barely audible screams. I instinctively hurled myself backwards to get clear of the water. Trying to descend proved impossible, for the current was too strong and I knew that I would have no chance to look for them.

“JANET!!! DYLAN!!! DO YOU HEAR ME???” I called out. “CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

I repeated this several times before my voice became a whisper, and time froze. My life as I knew it was over. It was unlikely that I would ever see my family again, and my home now lay in ruins. The water rose to my legs, but I was so lost in anguish that I did not move back until a minute later, when it began to obscure my breathing. I had many times watched these survival shows in which people were enthusiastic about their ordeals, but this could not be further from the truth. I had realized that the toughest challenge was not to survive the torrents, but to survive the utter deficit of hope in which I had almost wished for the waves to wash me away. This was the struggle against system shock, against a loss of reality, and an abyssal reality of life which had never been realized previously in my entire existence.

I made it up to the bedpost and the shock finally began to dissipate, bringing with it the emotional onslaught which had been previously hidden. I began to weep, for the first time in years. It was not only of sadness and loss, but a complete release of energy that I did not quite understand at the time. Through this, I felt more alive than I had for a very long time, despite the utter misery that I had felt at what the waters had taken from me. And there I stayed for hours, trapped in doubt and anguish, in release and confusion, and in the middle of a beautiful, horrible new world.

Somehow, I fell asleep amidst the rushing water and horrible realizations. Perhaps it had just been too much for me. But this time, I did ream. I was paralyzed; paralyzed by something that was not visible, or tangible, as my life was slowly drained from my veins. And as I dissipated from the world, my greatest pain was not the physical thorn in my side, but the knowing that I could have averted such a fate….

“JANET? DYLAN? ARE YOU OKAY?” I yelled out. At the time, I had not been able to distinguish between the nightmare and what had transpired, partly because I had not known that I had fallen asleep in the first place. After several seconds, I rested my eyes on the dark water occupying the staircase, and it all came back to me. I stopped at the foot of stairs and sat, again overwhelmed with emotions, but this time a mixture of extreme anger and aggression. Perhaps this time I could stop something bigger, just as I had remembered in my dream. Even though I did not know what it was, I would certainly have to escape this hell. In a quick decision, I ruled out waiting for evacuation, packed my pistol, some food and water, and then headed outside through a skylight in the roof.. The downpour had somewhat eased, but the chaos had not. And somehow, amidst all the destruction and pain, I felt far more powerful than I ever had before.

Gas fires burned at the top of many houses, and widespread shouting and crashing could be heard over the rain. I readied my pistol and shoved it in my belt, not expecting to be shot at but not taking any chances. The roof was mostly intact and I was able to make my way to the edge, from which I carefully leapt, falling into about four feet of water. Everything that I had previously treasured was swept away, which now didn’t matter because it all meant nothing. I was beginning to realize just how much I hated my previous existence, and knew that if I ever got over the shock of my losses I would have to completely rearrange my lifestyle. Well, of course this was not a guarantee, as it did not seem beyond imagination for rushing waters to yet again come.

The neighbors’ cars were thoroughly damaged, some of them completely underwater. Instinctively, I looked towards the BMW to see only part of it submerged, but the areas I could see were heavily damaged. It felt strange to desire to look, but not to care in the slightest. I could have examined it further, but instead traveled through the neighborhood, looking for some survivors. I found some alright, who popped out from behind a bush with rifles drawn. My first instinct was to pull out my pistol and shoot, since I was completely on edge, but I suppressed it when I figured that they were just trying to defend themselves.

“Come on, I’m not here to kill you, I’m just from down the street” I said shakily.

“Sorry. We’ve been shot at several times already today. The damn looters have been raiding the wealthier area. We have to watch our backs or we’ll end up getting killed” an older man grumbled.

“Yeah, Jake back here got it in the arm!” a voice came from inside the house. It was raised, and had avoided most of the flooding, but had still sustained some damage. The whole area resembled more of a war zone than the upscale area of town that it had been just a day ago.

I stayed for some time but did not talk much, even when the others did. They seemed to be doing okay despite all that had happened, and must have been from a variety of families since most of them didn’t seem to be related at all.

“Everyone fucking left, so if we don’t stick together, we’re dead” one of them explained. “But we’re doing alright so far”

I was allowed to go upstairs and rest some more, but I could not sleep. After about twenty minutes of staring at the wall while the others talked, I was snapped out of my trance by the sound of gunfire. Instantly I rushed downstairs, pistol in hand.

“Hey man, relax. It’s probably a mile away. Maybe the National Guard or something. I think they’re fighting with the looters. But be ready” I did stay ready, in fact vigilant. With my survival on overdrive and deep in confusion, the gun in my hand felt like my only form of control. For a fleeting second, I wonder what Janet would think of me being reduced to this state. For the matter of fact, what would Dylan think? Would they understand my complete shock, and what felt like a complete abandonment of the past? Would they think that I was abandoning them?

I was forced to shove these thoughts aside as some of the people started yelling and the gunshots sounded again, this time much closer. One man fell, and dragged himself behind the porch. Suddenly, I saw a ragged man with a gun, and instinct kicked in. I wouldn’t have normally had the reflexes, but in a split second, I pulled out my pistol and shot him before he could even see me. I then ran back into the house and bolted from the scene before stopping to catch my breath, as the fight was intensifying. I was compelled to stay and fight and almost felt angry with myself for fleeing and not being able to adequately defend myself without fear, but I knew that if I was to live, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Once I reached what seemed to be a safer place, I forgave myself what I had perceived as cowardice; after all, I had never fired a gun before. Perhaps this wasn’t to be a complete change at once, but just the beginning.

As I waited for several minutes to affirm that the situation was truly safe, I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. I must have sprained it while running, but did not notice. I had also sustained a minor shrapnel wound which stung horribly and was leaking some blood, but did not appear critical. Nonetheless, I knew that I was in a vulnerable position to be hurt further, so I would have to be careful. There was a small river by what remained of my house. If I could find a boat, I could take what I could salvage, and float my way down the river. Why had I not thought of this before? The shock from my loss had clearly clouded my judgment, thus at that point I reasoned that it would not benefit me to act on something I did not completely understand. Without proper judgment, I could end up anywhere, and I would never get out of this place alive.

Time was of the essence, but for strength, I prayed to god for the first time in many months. If he was indeed there, then he would answer me in my greatest time of need. It indeed gave me strength, but I knew that this was just from myself, and was not sure if my prayer would be in vain. Staying in the same spot would surely get me killed. The idea of looking for help from authorities flashed through my mind briefly, but I almost felt like the whole system had betrayed me and taken away all that I had. The idea also completely removed me from the equation, and despite my fear, I felt compelled to survive. It was ugly, sure, but there indeed exists a silver lining to everything.

Not limping proved impossible without the burst of adrenaline, but I knew that I would probably just injure myself worse if I rushed. I almost felt heartless not grieving, but was still confused over the nature of the whole thing. I didn’t really understand how to react to such a thing, because I had been so used to comfort and consistency, however much I despised it. I still had a hard time accepting this, because I had become so used to pleasing people and shutting up that I had forgotten about my own gripes with the system. It proved difficult to make it home, because most of the street signs had been washed away and the landscape was badly damaged, but I eventually reached my destination. I retrieved a ladder from the waterlogged garage and climbed back up to the room in which I had hidden. Returning to where I had laid and grieved started to take its toll on me, but in an effort to press on, I quickly exited once again.

The roof proved to be a good vantage point, and I only had to look around for a short time before spotting a boat, which had probably been left at its dock by a fleeing family. I traveled to it with bags in hand, avoiding the deeper areas of the water, but had to swim out to it because the dock was submerged. It had indeed been banged up, but did not seem to be damaged beyond functionality. As I got in, I remembered something important.

“Fuck….I’m going to have to get the key to this thing, or I’ll never get out of here” I muttered, knowing well that there was a good chance that I would have to find another boat. I did not know how to hotwire any type of vehicle, and because I knew it to be deadly if I screwed up, I would not attempt it without being shot at first. The only rational thing to do was to break into the house. My conscience briefly scolded me, which I brushed away. I knew that in need, there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, especially since I would not harm anyone. While I broke the glass in, I started to realize how much I had been socially conditioned, which infuriated me.

After noisily rummaging around through several drawers in the large home’s study for several minutes, I then realized that I would be considered a looter if caught, and adopted a much more careful approach. Finally, after about half an hour, I came across a large ring of keys hanging on the wall of the storage room, which were presumably spares. This time ducking in the boat to avoid being seen, and tried more than half the keys before getting the right one. I stayed down for a bit but sat up later, as it seemed as though I was clear from danger. Though confused, I did know which way it was to the ocean, and from there I would presumably be able to find another city. The winds were not high now, and it was still drizzling at this time, but most of what was causing the destruction now was merely human desperation.

Up ahead, I noticed a group of people standing on a boat, and I was foolish enough to not turn around until I was in plain view. It turned out to be a military checkpoint. I stopped in hope that I could turn around, but they had spotted me and were now traveling over.

“Sir, do you have any weapons with you?” the older one asked, presumably the superior.

“Why does that matter to you?” I shot back, which turned out to be the wrong answer.

“Sir, we only ask that you cooperate” said the soldier irritably, while tension started to build in my body.

“Yes I do, now can I get out of here?”

“Don’t move!” he yelled, and made a motion to the younger soldier. As they pointed their weapons at me and the older man approached, I reacted and gunned the motor. Within a second I was 50 feet away.

“SHOOT HIM, SHOOT HIM!” I heard the calls come. There was a pause in which time nearly stood still, and then I felt an excruciating pain in my back, as if a huge rock had slammed into me. I twisted around before falling into the water and howling in pain, and in that moment, I knew that the young man who had pulled the trigger would forever regret what he had done. In that instant, my beliefs in god ceased. Perhaps there was something, but it certainly was not analogous to any belief I had held before.

As I floated down the river, the sun poked out from behind the clouds, but this was no longer of any welcoming quality. I began to cry once again, this time not out of pain, but out of rage; rage that I was going to die. Rage that I was going to die, and would not be able to even put a mark on that which was of ultimate injustice. I now fully realized the futility of my previous efforts in life, and wished with all my strength that I could have come to these realizations sooner. Even my family was secondary to this, and now I fully appreciated it without guilt, but knew that my time had come. It was as if I was living a nightmare, but could not have been more real.

My new understanding also carried the realization that for every scarred young man such as the soldier who had ended my life, there were thousands more, plagued by the same radical evils in such subtle ways as not to be noticed, but plagued all the same. They would be those who would have to fight for and inspire the rest of us, unless our race was to be domesticated and oppressed at every convenience.

Despite my body having been thoroughly weakened from the blood loss, and though everything was becoming faint, my mind raced to work in an endeavor to find some shred of solace before I expired. It was an effort unparalleled by anything I had ever undertaken in my entire existence. Were my family alive, I would not have hoped for them to return to their lifestyles, but instead to learn from their experiences of the day. As I began to fall unconscious, I could only hope that those who underwent the same transformation would do so in a time in which they could succeed, and not during the last or worst of their hours.

The light at the end of the tunnel appeared before my eyes as had been spoken of before many times, and I waited. At last, I reached the end, and my sense of being began to dissipate. A strange feeling came over me, as if I was a part of something bigger. There was no heaven and hell, it was so much more. And with those last shreds of thought, I dissolved into the depths unknown.

Please give me some criticism/feedback.

The Fallacy of "If it is real, why is there so much opposition to it, and why does nobody back it? (etc)"

This is a question I get many a time, usually when I have been discussing the subject of why psychiatry is bullshit. It comes in many variations: "If it's bullshit, why do so many doctors support it?" "If it's not bullshit, why does so and so prestigious source say that it is?" "I'm certainly going to believe the word of trained professionals over the word of a random internet blogger.

That's fine and all, but keep in mind that professionals (especially in gray areas such as psychiatry and psychology; those not understood very well are easier to distort the truth in) are only well trained in the area that they have been taught to think in. Being a professional is not a guarantee of critical thinking ability, in fact, many professional psychiatrists have been trained to be obedient to authority, which is why when someone questions authority they have a tendency to consider it as a deficit or even a disease, but not vice versa. It also cripples their ability to think critically. Combine this with a nonsensical positive reputation for phd's in which those who have such a degree are extolled regardless of what they are saying, and you have a recipe for disaster. Now, I'm not saying that all PhD's are bullshit; in fact, most are not, at least not in other areas. Although there are exceptions and some small subjective areas, a PhD in hard biology, hard chemistry, hard physics, or surgery (just to name a few) almost definitely will have a fundamentally better understanding than myself in every area of the subject. This is because these sciences and training processes are objective and based on sound scientific reasoning, unlike psychiatry, thus not open to nearly as much interpretation or skewing.

So why are there no (or very few) peer reviewed journals that support anti-psychiatric literature? The reason is simple: such is devastating in the form that it disrupts peoples consumerist leanings and mindsets, fostering a spirit of critical thinking that looks towards a much more complex system of emotional deficits, breakdown of families, and institutionalization of society. This not only goes against big pharma's drugging, but the entire status quo, and could cost millions for those in power. The pharmaceutical corporations, who naturally fund much of these supposedly 'objective' journals through ads in cooperation with the APA and other organizations often will ban 'controversial' literature because of 'low readership'. And there you have it, unwarranted censorship with a different name. In fact, when Bruce Levine, the author of an institutionally critical book entitled 'Commonsense rebellion' was interviewed for a piece in a medical journal, THIS is what transpired:

"On August 24, 2001, a freelance reporter, Joyce Frieden, working for the Clinical Psychiatry News Interviewed me. Frieden's general line of questioning was around (1) What is your newly published book (COMMONSENSE REBELLION: Debunking Psychiatry, Confronting Society-An A to Z Guide to Rehumanizing Our Lives) all about? (2) You are speaking to America's psychiatrists, what advice do you have for them? Several weeks later, the publicist my publisher had hired to promote Commonsense Rebellion (and who had set up the interview) emailed me this: "I just got a call from Joyce Frieden who did the interview with Clinical Psychiatry News. She said, unfortunately, the editor 'nixed' the article saying it would be too much of a hard sell for their readers."

http://www.namiscc.org/newsletters/December01/CommonsenseRebellion.htm


Sound fair and objective? Obviously not. What is put in these psychiatric journals is reflective of what is popular, not of what is scientific or sensible. This is alarming because the whole field is very gray and subjective, thus easily manipulated, and this blatantly shows that one side is being excluded for the benefit of those in power in the establishment.

Why do so many doctors support these ideas? It's simple. Not only are they taught to be exceedingly obedient (which as I stated before, impairs their ability to think outside what they have been taught), but they have been taught this from the start of their 'medical career' with pharma based education. This extreme over representation of one view and extreme under representation of all others is why so many buy into the system. Also, the idea that all emotions are 'medical' and that there are well defined, strict criteria for 'physical' and 'non physical' processes influences these beliefs in bio-medical views. Many will demand objective scientific evidence that these 'disorders' do NOT exist. The problem is that the burden is on the psychiatric establishment to prove that these disorders are 'medically based' and 'treatable'.

Critics of psychiatry do commonly state that there is no objective scientific evidence to prove their views, but rather social critique and common sense. Many of us also acknowledge that our science is far inferior to the level necessary to understand the fine workings of the brain on a physical level, but many also understand that perhaps an artificial, chemical approach is not the best one because we respond to the environment (if the brain and consciousness were indeed just a series of chemical reactions, which we do not know).

Why do many 'prestigious' sources say that criticism of psychiatry is invalid because it has no objective scientific evidence? Because sensitivity to ones' surroundings and high emotional intelligence do not necessarily have any correlation with how 'prestigious' and accepted something is. In fact, that entity may have obtained it's reputation from other fields (any ivy league university), which makes having someone from such an institution backing the establishment's view a powerful tool. Popularity is also not necessarily an indication of quality, either.

The psychiatric establishment falsely tries to paint the dynamics of emotion and emotional deficit as a science, and then tries to apply Occam's Razor. This leads to a gross simplification of something far more complex than many understand. If we can admit that understanding emotions is not within our current scientific capability (and perhaps never should be), perhaps we can grow emotionally and enrich our lives and the lives of those around us.

"A simple lie is easier to accept than a complex truth"

Again, one can completely disregard everything I have said because I am not a trained professional, but I do not see how one could sincerely believe that such a one sided and biased teaching method can instill higher levels of critical thinking in its 'pupils'. Once again, university experience or a degree does not necessarily make you qualified for something (though this is the belief of many), and this especially rings true in areas that are gray and not well understood, such as trying to understand peoples' behaviors. Only under a context in which students can critique their own society can an unbiased and emotionally intelligent perspective arise.

I just invented a mental disorder: BAD

BAD stands for "Bitch-asshole disorder".

---

This disorder is defined by a set of symptoms, detailing mean, rude, and unfair conduct to peers, authority figures, and subordinates. It commonly affects around 50% of the population of 1st world countries, with unnecessary annoyance, irritability, and rudeness for trivial, silly reasons.

It's a biological disorder, because the brain scans of people with BAD are different from those with normal minds.

Treatment options include brainwashing, propaganda, and sedatory pills. Confinement, abuse, and torture may help in the treatment of this harmful disorder, but may also worsen the syndrome in those who have a disorder called EPD, or extroverted personality disorder. Those who have the worst form of this, dubbed oppositional defiance disorder, or 'ODD' will most likely try to rise against this humane form of treatment that they do not have the decision making capabilities to accept or not.

Again, we have no official brain scans of a 'normal' person, but have a pretty good idea of what one is. Although we believe that all human thoughts, feelings, and actions can be ultimately reduced to chemical signals, we know that this disorder is biological. The brain scans clearly show a deviation from normality, and although there are no studies that indicate that there are significant biological factors (don't tell anyone), we insist that the causes are biological, just 'cause.

If you think you may have this disorder, seek professional help immediately.

Further disadvantages of being a 'mature teenager'.

....are directly related to the reality that there are few around, especially of the outgoing, direct type. Unfortunately, 'maturity' for the most part is equated with compliance and being very quiet, by most at least. Now, what does this lead to?

Well, one should note that although someone may be considerably more 'mature' than the average person his or her age, their body is still going to retain its physical characteristics. This often means high sex drive, and a lot of energy to use it. In a world where 'maturity' and 'intelligence' are largely valued only if they are expressed in a very tightly controlled and nearly-silent setting, the latter takes a big hit. And most who have at least some degree of emotional maturity will not fuck every attractive woman or man (depending on sexual preference) that happens to pass by. Of course, those who are more mature can exercise more control, but this in turn can often make things very uncomfortable if stuck partner less for long periods of time, which is often the case.

Simply imagine having the mind of an older, middle aged person, but the energy of a younger person, and a very high sex drive. This produces tension in the form of mostly unwanted sexual attractions, which can become quite intense much of the time. I suppose this could even be referred to as some type of mental civil war, with a clear winning side that is still bearing much more stress than it would be without a 'rebellion'.

I'll be the first to admit that there are a great number of intelligent, 'mature' people who could not get laid if their lives depended on it, even if it is a stereotype. However, the core of the problem lies in when the stereotype is the only accepted form of something. Maybe it's the result of pigeonholing in society and upbringing, but for whatever reason(s), many lack social skills and the confidence to really approach anyone successfully. But for those who can, perhaps this is even worse. The opposite sex is much closer, so the temptation is much more magnified, as is the counter reaction. Small talk becomes easy with practice but also is held in contempt to some who have moved beyond this vapid phase. I'd also say that this proximity and 'fight' can also breed a lot more contempt for 'stupidity' with the stress that it shoves in the faces of some individuals. They, and I, feel both repulsed and attracted at the same time, which tends to mount more and more frustration to often already high levels.

I've decided to withdraw from socialization partly because of this, but not to the level of becoming a hermit. I still keep a look out and am still open, but overall, I avoid massively social occasions (despite being of extroverted nature) in part because of this tension. It's not conquerable at some level because high libido is natural in people of this age, and can be even higher for some individuals. Still, it is of course resistible, as it should be for anyone, but this is completely irrelevant.

This tension and isolation also in part decreases motivation and willpower, which affects a lot of areas, including writing, communicating, and much more.

I hope to write a bit more about this issue in the future, and would like to hear the stories of others who may have experienced similar issues to my own.

Response to a psychiatrist who had posted some videos on youtube.

This happened awhile ago, and he never responded to me. I just felt like posting this here; most of his original message to me is in quotes.

Thank you for taking the time to respond to my comments. I apologize that this has taken me some time, but I have been somewhat busy and tired as of late.

First, I agree that helping others understand each other better and to look at things with foresight will greatly help the cause of emotional health.

“about how their brains work and hopefully then perhaps they'll pay more attention and slow down, take care of each other, be less judgmental, discriminating, hateful, etc.”

I’m not exactly sure what you mean here. I agree with helping society become more emotionally intelligent, critical thinking, and helping people understand those who are suffering will greatly help reduce the number of mentally ill. Where I’m not sure I agree is that if this is necessarily based on understanding ‘disorders’ and the ‘base functions of the brain’, but rather just generally having individuals take time to pay attention to those who are suffering, and relate to them on an emotional level. In fact, I think that the view that ‘disorders are responsible’ leads to more discrimination; in the vein of people, and sometimes unfortunately mental health ‘experts’ viewing them as less than people, as ‘crazy’, without legitimate reasons for feeling the way they feel that could just as easily apply to them.

The view I hold is that educating in an emotionally intelligent way and offering humane alternatives to mental suffering rather than maintaining the status quo and forcing a continuation of routine will work to provide empathy, rather than sympathy or pity. Sympathy often fails to work because the ‘helper’ has a preconceived notion of what is going on, and feels above the person, while pity is almost always demeaning. On the other hand, empathy involves a constantly changing relationship on a personal level in which both parties learn from each other.

“The willpower of which you speak comes from the brain. Some people are unable to effect the type of change you mention on their own. Think about what you see around you...why does a woman who knows she'll lose her kids if she uses cocaine again while on probation go ahead and use?”

I agree, somewhat. That’s largely because we’re raised in a world where something looks after us, and taught to embrace acceptance, not critical thinking. I think if people start to learn to understand why people really are mentally ill, this could spread further. I also agree that willpower does come from the brain, but through a huge labyrinth of reactions and nervous system impulses that are far too complex to alter accurately and positively with a single drug or even a few drugs. Of course, I certainly agree that cocaine is a very dangerous and addicting substance to at least 99% of users. Her irresponsible behavior is due to:

Serious physical addiction (physical substance that actually alters the brain directly and produces stimulant effects throughout the body). Brain chemistry does seriously change in the presence of heavy drug abuse, and this has actually been proven. Of course, greater willpower can HELP, but it generally applies to circumstances, not direct introduction of physical agents.

Poor quality drug education- leads to irresponsible use and more often abuse, as well as a huge amount of crime brought upon by illegality as opposed to careful regulation and education about the true effects of drugs

Lack of responsibility – She mindlessly abuses the drug with idea that “I will not get addicted” rather than careful planning. She also has the idea that someone will save her if things do go wrong, due to our ‘nanny state’. This ties into the previous statement.

“Is she evil, forced to by society, or is there some drive to use that her willpower cannot overcome. I've seen this many times. I have attempted to be there for people and show compassion but it just isn't enough sometimes.”

I agree, this is largely a physical, bodily addiction that can be augmented by metaphysical experiences. I also can agree that when things have gone very bad, compassion sometimes isn’t enough. She is not evil, but the way society functions makes her more predisposed to mindless addiction. I don’t think this is an accurate parallel to mental illness, because while the addiction may have been easier to stop had she been more responsible and had it been caught early, she is suffering from a serious physical addiction influenced by a direct, physical agent.

“This same example pertains to those who are obese. They know the consequences and don't want to be this way. They know that they can slim down by watching what they eat but they are unable to do it. Lack of willpower or a drive that overpowers the willpower? The latter is the case and this is a brain thing. Why? Because we have to have these drives to survive.”

I’ve read up on this before, and I’d have to only partially agree that our survival instinct is responsible for obesity (though not directly), in most cases. While it is agreeable that some types of physical structures are more prone to weight gain, there is a kind of primal comfort derived from eating (which ties into survival instinct), combined with a surplus of sugars and other substances that actually alter the physical state of the body directly, and can become something of an addiction. It is partially because of society however, because in a society that is very gluttonous and emphasizes huge portions, it is easy and socially accepted to overeat. It’s more of a survival instinct exploited and messed around with, I’d say. But see, that basic primal comfort is normal. It’s just that it is overdone due to society and circumstances that cause someone to seek comfort in the form of this feeling and the surplus of sugars.

“We are driven to eat to survive. So our brains say to us...that looks really good and is rewarding when you eat it. The brain lights up and says eat this. The frontal lobes kick and say no but the drive (reward center) says go for it and wins out. This is certainly related to society as we have such easy access to high calorie foods and don't have to exert ourselves anymore.“ This I can agree with, though the issue is often much more complex if related to personal issues.

“The only time I feel ethically inclined to intervene on someone's behalf is when it is obvious they will come to harm if I don't and the reason is something I can help with. It's like saying to a cardiologist who is trying to save someone with a heart attack "Don't intervene, he made the choice to eat poorly and not exercise and society is at fault because of high fat food and no need for exertion." You wouldn't go for that if it was you.”

And of course, that person would have the right to refuse treatment. Could their judgment and willpower not be affected by their condition if it had been taking an emotional toll on them, i.e. not being able to do the same activities?

“The only difference is that this patient would likely scream and say "treat me!" In my world, people's brains are affected so their willpower, judgment and insight are all affected so they can no longer make the decisions they would normally make if not influenced by depression, psychosis, drug addiction, etc.”

I do believe that that is a very subjective judgment for anyone to make, thus it is impossible to proclaim ones’ self more able to judge someone else’s need for treatment than themselves much of the time. Of course, there are exceptions, such as someone suffering from rabies and going insane (just an assumption, I actually don’t know how it affects humans), but that is because of a direct physical ailment that impairs the brain. Who is ‘more able’ to make judgments is currently determined by societal norms rather than the breadth and depth of their perspective, their emotional understanding, and their wisdom. Depressed people are often on the road to a greater perspective; as odd as it sounds, pain often brings a greater deal of wisdom.

Now, one might say that this is okay as long as they function in society, but perhaps they do not because those who are intelligent and intuitive do not function in our society well, for good reasons. Maybe it is because mediocrity has become the letter of the law, and those who are intelligent are ignored, not extolled. A depressed person often has their ‘normal’ life interrupted and begins to see life in a more cynical, truthful manner because they now realize that their previous illusions of happiness were dead wrong, and it is a hard transition to make when you are alone and nobody is helping you along. This is why people get depressed often; shattering a perspective and having to stuff it all inside and take it in, even if you do not directly realize it is one of the hardest things that people will go through in their life, if they ever experience it. With a huge number of messages being fired at them rather than help, it also breeds a huge amount of confusion.

I’m not trying to insult, but I propose a question: What if a cynical, angry misanthrope who understood vast aspects of the world, life itself, and the beyond were to ‘treat’ the average person with emotional torture so they could see life for more of what it really was? Would that be okay, because the average person would not have the judgment making capabilities of the misanthropic genius? I’m not referencing to myself, though I am quite a cynic, but the answer is no. Despite this genius, people need to make their own decisions and find out for themselves, though guidance can be provided. This, in my opinion, is actually better than ‘treating’ someone so they can return to the norm, but it is still wrong because it does not take into account an empathetic perspective which understands the person through and through and helps them understand the world better. I firmly believe that the cynical perspective is far more accurate than the average one, especially if it has clear alternatives and aims. Does that mean that a cynical, angry person should have the right to forcibly ‘treat’ someone who is average? No.

This ‘better judgment’ is also open to too much bias. What if a misanthropic person who was perfectly sane, but completely despised the world and most in it wanted to kill him or herself? Chances are that the vast majority of psychiatrists would diagnose that person with a disorder and give them drugs, while in reality, although his/her positions might have gone a bit too far, that person possesses a far more accurate world view than those psychiatrists. This is because there is a preconception that if someone wants to kill themselves, they are automatically mentally ill. I’m just saying that this better judgment affair is too subjective 99% of the time, and that many people who appear unstable on the scale of societal adjustment may actually be exhibiting healthy reactions, and have a sense of perspective that you or others may not.

“ I hope at least through our stimulating discussion, you realize that psychiatrists aren't all out there trying to control the world and people's minds. I nor my colleagues would know what to do with that kind of control.”

No, I do not. I do believe that a lot of psychiatrists have not been presented with the full picture, but the main people I hold responsible are the heads of the APA who cooperate with the heads of the pharmaceutical companies, and the Pharma CEOs themselves. Maybe they’re not bent on world domination, but there is one thing they want: money. If a more oppressive establishment makes them more money, I have no doubt in my mind that they will take those steps.

“

By the way, also in one of my videos, I describe the methods by which we commit someone to treatment. It is generally started by family, signed off on by an MD and finally a judge has to approve.”

That’s not always how it happens, but I completely agree that there are at least some checks and balances. The thing is, society is adjusted to accepting the word of psychiatrists (or any 'doctor' in a white lab coat) quickly, and judges are no more emotionally intelligent than the average person the vast majority of the time. Take into account a family which is purely reacting, scared and shocked, rather than thinking things through. This is how a lot of people get forcibly committed to negative treatment and families support it; they are too emotionally traumatized to think about what might really happen in the long term.

“When (or if) you have kids or get around them from the time of infancy, watch how different their temperaments are even from birth. They haven't had time to be effected by society yet but they are already different from one another. That is how they are wired...this wiring is very complex and different from one to another and therefore there can be illnesses that result. Gotta get back to work. Have a good one!”

Well, I do plan to have kids someday when I find the right partner (I am only eighteen), and I completely agree that people have different basic personalities. Passive people and aggressive people are more ‘predisposed’ to depression and bipolar/rage under the same extreme stress. Rather than being technical and labeling it as genetic, what should be looked at is that different people have different reactions to extreme stress that are often similar in severity.

I don’t disagree that sometimes, short term drug use can help someone who is seriously mentally suffering. However:

These drugs are not cures.

Many are very dangerous and have negative effects.

At best, the effects are temporary and equivalent to getting tipsy or smoking a joint

What I would suggest is to have drugs accurately tested with proven, short term positive effects, and offered in small amounts (yes, offered, not forced) to those who are seriously suffering. The current way is too skewed and misconstrued to be of any help. People end up largely getting addicted to these substances, taking them routinely, and often these ‘research’ studies are skewed in favor of making money on pharmaceutical grounds. Many even greatly increase the risk of suicide, and just numb things down.

Non-addictive drugs that produce temporary soothing effects without side effects should be optional in small doses for those who desire them, but:

1. They should never be forced

2. Research into their effects should be completely independent

3. It should be acknowledged that they DO NOT correct any ‘chemical imbalance’, and merely could be used from time to time to help relax. Thus, they should be tested on ‘normal’ people for these same effects, etc. Marijuana needs to be legalized and offered.

4. This should not be for profit at all.

5. Responsible, TRUTHFUL, and sensible drug education needs to be combined with this.

6. Side effects need to be very carefully examined from multiple angles.

I have more things to talk about, but I’ll keep it at this for now. Hope you appreciate my response. I’ll also be sure to check out that video of yours soon enough.

-Brian