Psychiatry sucks, seriously. Or is it the psychiatrists?

This week I tried to take part in a writing challenge online. I dropped out. Decided to leave the group…after many many people had cheered writing by a retired forensic psychiatrist relating the story of a former patient in no less sensational (detective story style way) manner than the headlines of the gutter press. In comments to her post on the writing challenge people mainly admired her bravery, she admitted that there is a backstory to most of the cases, and that she does dive into it in the upcoming book. I seriously hope so. I did leave a comment to that effect saying it is the stories that help understand why people may have behaved in certain ways. It does make sense, always. I was seriously disappointed with that shared paragraph of an upcoming book with a publisher and people’s general reactions, though there was one brave woman who commented on the lack of depth of it. I do hope she edits it, or her approach, I really wish I just read too much into it, but I am afraid I usually don’t. I only have an English lit degree, and translation experience, studied pragmatics, art therapy and have a lived psychiatric inpatient experience.

Anyhow, now onto something completely different, kinda. I am sharing a blog of a fellow traveler in arms…Katerina Paskova, she bravely shares her story of a Psychmeds Refuser and Withdrawer, in Czech. I seriously pray for her and cheer her on her way. Go, Katka, go!

Having said that, I am hereby declaring I am also not far off from embarking on another stage of my recovery journey, as I will be tapering aripiprazole, the second time round. I had previously tapered off successfully sertraline, and hopefully healed by now. Long story short…psychiatry sucks, seriously. If anything, the moral of the story I was trying to write in that challenge mentioned above was Hugs not Drugs (killer title, right?)….and that kind of sums it up in a neat paperback form…for those who do not want to look no further or deeper…but now reconsidering: Psychiatry sucks, seriously. Sounds more like it. May the force be with us.

If you want to follow my journey in arting my withdrawal process…go to my instagram and click follow.

Thank you for reading, liking and sharing.

#notsoamusings and #madbadsadsurvivedthrive novel snippet

The photograph above is from Rychleby…in the Sudenteland frontier between Czech Silesia and Poland. Revisiting the places I used to love in my mind, trying to piece my life together like a novel, I am sharing a snippet of writing with you today. The other image is me, looking back.

From the #madbadsadsurvivedthrive novel in the making:

“I once visited the former IG Farben factory, they were showing us students proudly how to make a lithmus paper. It should have all been clear to me from that one instance.

Hindsight is a great thing. Twenty twenty vision. Like a pilot navigating a sky territory with a sun set long time ago. The shamanic teachings tell us that we can travel between the time instances, some other teachings tell us there is only now and to savor each moment, to truly be, present. To be our own true savior.

If I had been present on that tour of a pharma factory that used to be the infamous gas producing monster I would have laughed at the way they were presenting their production to us. But aged twenty-one, I was paying attention. And I would have stopped laughing if I knew I will soon reach for one of their pills and it will change my life forever, not for better.

And I would have gone on laughing with cries, not to be confused with crying with laughter, had I known it will take me roughly give or take twenty years to get out of it.

Now I am on year seventeen, and pronoing and asking the shamanic wisdom to be true, praying god to help me, and breathing, being present every moment.”

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