Thank you. Thank you for stopping by. This is going to be a more personal post, because I need to get some things off my chest I suppose, and onto “paper,” so to speak. This morning marks the third consecutive class I have not-so-accidentally skipped. Why? Because, quite honestly, I have just not felt like going. Yes, I know that is a terrible excuse, but hanging at Starbucks across the street getting some work done and reading while sipping on a freshly brewed Christmas Blend coffee is oh so enticing – and better than lab and lecture I might add. There is also a lack of motivation, but all of this does not really add up to missing so many classes. Another ppor excuse is that there is a group of four kids that really bother me since they are just so immature, and there is just a weird dynamic between them and me for whatever reason. They belong in high school to be honest, not in my college course. Okay, enough of that though, I just needed to let that one go. But there is something else I am inclined to discuss, and that is the ever lurking sense of yet another depression coming on.
This may take some time to explain, but I need to get this out so feel free to skim through or skip to another post entirely. But I sincerely thank you if you opt to continue on reading word for word.
Let me give you a bit of context. I have wrote some bits and pieces about my mental health experiences before, but never too in depth. I might get a bit more so here and now. I am afraid of another bout of depression for obvious reasons, but also because the potential still exists for such an episode to ruin my semester, academically speaking. And I am set to graduate this December! This means I have one month to hold off any damning disorder, because I cannot afford to delay my graduation any longer. I have been attending this same community college ever since I graduated high school in 2009 – so yes, this is going on my fourth year at a two year school. But that does not really bother me too much anymore, for I am over the fact that it is taking me a bit, or a lot, longer to get through college than some other people. Now I could care less, even if at times I still do think about that face and its significance.
So then, that is a bit of academic history, but let me get into my mental health situation. You see, I mention that I am afraid of a potential upcoming depression. However, I must stress to you that this is not a typical situation. Let me put it to you like this – I have been numb for the vast majority of the past few years. What does this mean, you ask? This means that I do not feel my feelings, I do not think my thoughts, I am essentially a living dead man, a zombie, a mindless drone, whatever you want to call it, this is fact. Believe it or not, this is very much the case, but I am not going to plead to you to understand completely what I am like. That would be like attempting to describe the indescribable. For, how do you describe the absence of thought and feeling? This is a very serious question because I used to write in journals about my overactive emotions or mental stresses but I have lots of trouble trying to write about…nothing! And this is not like a meditative nothing, its more than just a vast emptiness or void. All I know is that this condition, if it can be called that, is horrid.
There are people suffering who wish nothing more than to feel nothing. But let me tell you from experience, I would much rather be feeling something, however negative, than nothing. The very humaneness is sucked out of me. My mind is just like a blank piece of paper, only nothing can be impressed or written upon it. If any of this makes sense, then I am somewhat impressed.
You may be wondering why? What causes this sort of thing? Let me preface this by saying this is my own very personal experience and that I am by no means trying to explain everybody’s experience with mental health, depression, psychiatric drugs, and so forth. So I guess you can take this with a grain of salt. That being said, I know I am not alone in feeling this type of way, or nonfeeling might be more accurate. I just want to say this because I have strong views on the subject of psychiatry, and I also realize that many people do not share these views.
All I can say is that this is what I have found to be true, and nothing but honesty can be found in the following words. Take from it what you will.
My emotional, mental and spiritual numbness is directly caused by the very “medications” I am prescribed and take to treat my “illness.” Yes I am purposefully using quotations here.
There is a gigantic problem in psychiatry and that is psychiatry itself – in short, the very thesis of biological or “modern” psychiatry is simply untrue, false and very destructive. This is a condensed version, but essentially psychiatry says that all mental illness is in fact a physical disease or illness due to imbalances in certain chemicals in the brain that result in prolong sadness, for instance as in depression – among other criteria – which can be effectively treated by manufactured chemicals which work to balance out the imbalances thus supposedly curing or at least helping the patient feel better. That is psychiatry in a nutshell. Contrary to popular belief however, the fact of the matter is that there is no proof for this theory whatsoever. In other words, depression – and other types of mental illness too, but I am going to be primarily discussing depression – is NOT an illness. That is a stone cold fact.
Sadly, this is not pronounced as truth. Quite the opposite. I actually wrote a sixteen page paper (even though it only had to be around 5 pages) for my current moral and social issues class (contemporary ethics, in other words). I may post that, because even though I consider it a part of a larger work in progress, it outlines a lot of what goes on. I basically argue that the direct to consumer advertising of antidepressants among other psychiatric drugs is unethical. There are plenty of reasons, although I am not going to get into all of that right now – I can post the paper if there is interest. My main point here and now in this regard is simply that the general public are led to believe, as well as the professionals, that depression is an illness requiring a prescription or perhaps more than one to treat. And that, besides maybe ECT in more severe cases, is the sole effective treatment.
This psychopharmaceutical complex as its called is terribly destructive, that even kills people (think drug-induced suicide cases). The psychological effects alone are tremendous. People are led to believe if they feel kind of down for more than a couple of weeks then they are depressed and need to see the doctor. This inevitably means obtaining a prescription that may be refilled for an indefinite period of time.
Before I go off on a complete tangent, let me get back to, well, me. What I am getting at here is that, again this is very condensed, these medications that I have been taking for the past five or six years, despite changes is doses and names, have “worked” in a sense but not in a very positive way. These medications have effectively numbed me out. There is no doubt in my mind this is the case. And from a doctors perspective that means they are “working.” You see, my symptoms of feeling sad, or feeling anything, are pretty much gone. But that is because I don’t feel a damn thing!! And that is treatment?
What I am trying to convey here is that there is a conflict of perspective here. My doctor, and parents, think things are going fairly well. I am functional. I can wake up in the morning, get out of bed, shower, go to school, eat three meals a day, I am pretty much “normal.” However, my views are a tad bit different, or completely.
I recognize that I am doing what I need to do – such as the things I just mentioned above. But, and this is a huge but, I do not feel like a human being. Now, I for one would consider that to be a major problem. However, as much as I have tried to voice this, nobody seems to take it seriously. Of course, nobody can really understand this state, if you will, and worse still, I am rather accustomed to “living” this way. That is scary although this is so only because I have been this way for so long, think years. The novelty has worn away, almost completely off.
But not totally, and that is why I am determined to withdraw from these drugs. I know that is an integral part of the solution towards “getting better” or establishing a good state of well being. The idea is pretty simple – I discontinue using the drugs, my feelings and thoughts come back into consciousness, and I can work on things from there, make some lasting changes, and get on with my life. That being said, I know all to well that one cannot simply stop taking these types of drugs, and I am planning on working with another doctor in NYC that could help me tremendously. I also realize that ridding of the drugs will not solve all my problems miraculously. I do know that this is necessary, however, and thus will happen sometime in the relatively near future.
Back to the present though – the closest thing I get to feeling any emotions is this sort of peripheral sensation. The pseudo-feeling is quite odd, and very subtle, barely recognizable and almost not there at all. It is just like a sense. And I sense sorrow. This is not a good thing. I cannot afford to get depressed right now, at the end of what is my final semester of community college. This simply cannot happen, not that there is ever a good time to get depressed, but not certainly is not one of them.
Wow, I wrote a lot here! Maybe someone read this, hopefully it made some type of sense and please let me thank you for taking the time!!
(you made it)
THE END (for now)!!
To be continued…