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[arizone Profile]

I can see both sides. Yes, some people have benefited greatly from drugs for depression...and I know some of them who will straight tell you that drugs saved their lives. But I also know people who are living some form of a crappy life that they don't want (married to an ass, drowning in the fake country club suburban rat race) who, instead of making the lifestyle changes that would make them happy choose to take that little yellow pill so they don't care that they're miserable. Because it's easier and socially acceptable.

Three years ago (at the risk of boring you with my life story) I went with my little bro to download data from some tracking stations he has in the northeast part of the state. I came home infested with nymph ticks, didn't know it, found some embedded two days later. Right after that I had what felt like the worst flu ever. Went to the doc, told him about the ticks and the flu, got Western Blot test and 10 days of antibiotics for possible Lyme. Felt like shit for a month. Western blot came back negative. Went back to the doc, told him I still felt like shit, and from the symptoms I was having and the research I'd been doing, I felt like I did have Lyme and should have more/stronger antibiotics. He insisted that I must be depressed and refused to treat me for Lyme until I'd been on the antidepressant he gave me for 90 days. I was skeptical but he WAS the Dr...so I took them. And still felt like shit, only with dizziness, nausea, and a general fake odd disconcerting sense of not caring that I felt like shit. And a host of other not cool symptoms that I won't get into, but which are common to women on certain SSRI drugs. When I went back for my follow up he still refused to treat the Lyme, insisting that it was all in my head and the drugs were the thing. So I stopped taking them. And felt even worse. Turns out once you start them you can't just stop, because your brain has lost the ability to process serotonin on it's own. You have to phase off. Doc wouldn't tell me how so I went online and found out myself. Took a month to phase off and it was not fun. Probably another month till my brain started working correctly again.

On top of that wonderful experience I now get to have chronic Lyme. Which probably could have been prevented had the old doctor treated me properly, but which I will now have to deal with pretty much the rest of my life. (Don't even get me started on the whole BS politics of Lyme) Point being, American doctors and the majority of the public seem married to the idea of a miracle pill for what ails them. I think it's a mistake to medicate people into submission rather than deal with the underlying causes of their depression. And damn dangerous on top of it.

Thank you for saying what I was too angry to try to articulate. There is a place in "the system" for all approaches. Not everything works for everyone. And NO ONE should judge someone without knowing the circumstances.

In my situation, I was literally trapped in a severely abusive relationship with Muslim narcissist. It took me four and a half years to get out (alive!) with both children, and another two years to get the divorce. You name it, he did it. Once we were in the US, my abuser made sure I was as isolated as he could get it; no friends, no family, no phone/tv/internet/newspapers/magazines (though at one point I was allowed a radio). I was up until 3 am every night doing the bookkeeping for his business, then after that my duty switched to sex. I was up by 6am each day with the baby. I slept maybe one hour a night, and totally could not function normally. There was no end in sight to the hell. It took me the last three years of my imprisonment to plan my out.

In the meantime, I got pregnant a second time but this time the depression morphed into full-blown psychosis. Thank God I knew what was happening to me. My mantra- my only grip on reality- was to tell myself that everything that was happening was a completely normal reaction to a completely abnormal situation. I had no one to talk to, no transportation or way of getting to a doctor... and telling my abuser I needed help would jeopardize the future custody battle overseas in a country that did not sign the Hague Convention. I ate the best that I could, though I was too exhausted to do much exercise. I tried the best I could during the 45 minutes a week I was allowed outside for grocery shopping to acquire what knowledge and supplements I could from the health store in the same shopping plaza. Nothing helped (but, no surprise).

When I was finally out and living back home, just the change in environment was an 80% improvement. Just getting the time to cry for the first time in years helped too. But in spite of the support, therapists, and the fact that my only job at that point was to heal, the exercise and all the advice of the dietetic gurus at the clinic and at the health food store simply did not work. I tried so hard to not take the pill, and my therapist respected that and never pushed it. I was afraid of all the horror stories we hear; I was afraid of getting addicted, I was stubborn against the NWO pharmaceutical companies; I was ashamed because *I* just couldn't do it.... Even though I was happy, feeling safe, and looking forward to the future, the headaches, stomach pains, insomnia, and brain fog still remained. I couldn't get a job. The day I walked out the door with that prescription was the deepest crevice of my life and yet the most liberating; I had to admit for the first time in my life that I truly was helpless. And that it wasn't my fault.

Two weeks later I got a blessed 4 hours of sleep one night. A week after that, I was sleeping 6-7 hours at night. Within a month the headaches were gone. A few months later I went back to college; in my second semester I was offered a full scholarship for graduate school.

I think I remained on the pill for about 12 months before weaning off. I was fine for years without it until life decided to take a dump again, but this time I was given a different prescription. At some point during the clusterfuck, my blood pressure went through the roof and I had a stroke. I had to quit graduate school during my first semester.

So, that little pill gave me my life.. and another one took it away. If anyone cares, the "good" pill was Celexa, and the "bad" one was Cymbalta. I am not telling anyone that they have to take the pill; but I certainly do not discourage or judge anyone who does.

Sometimes I sit on this forum and I read threads... and wonder if people really think that "fear of suffering" is unfounded? I wasn't allowed inside a police station once, because it was considered "impolite" to allow a female to hear the screams of the political prisoners who were being held on the upper floor. I really wonder if people who think all you have to do to escape the effects of an "energy vampire" is to think good thoughts and be forgiving... if these people have ever met a real energy vampire? I wonder if these people who claim that happy thoughts eliminates depression... did they really have depression to begin with?

Then, I have to remind myself what a privileged lot we are... All sitting here with our fantasies, each with an internet connection and many drinking beer or smoking pot... And it's fun to sit back and think all you have to do is to wish it all away... Because after all, it is all fantasy, right?

thank you for sharing sock

[Madgremlin Profile]

Thank you for saying what I was too angry to try to articulate. There is a place in "the system" for all approaches. Not everything works for everyone. And NO ONE should judge someone without knowing the circumstances.

In my situation, I was literally trapped in a severely abusive relationship with Muslim narcissist. It took me four and a half years to get out (alive!) with both children, and another two years to get the divorce. You name it, he did it. Once we were in the US, my abuser made sure I was as isolated as he could get it; no friends, no family, no phone/tv/internet/newspapers/magazines (though at one point I was allowed a radio). I was up until 3 am every night doing the bookkeeping for his business, then after that my duty switched to sex. I was up by 6am each day with the baby. I slept maybe one hour a night, and totally could not function normally. There was no end in sight to the hell. It took me the last three years of my imprisonment to plan my out.

In the meantime, I got pregnant a second time but this time the depression morphed into full-blown psychosis. Thank God I knew what was happening to me. My mantra- my only grip on reality- was to tell myself that everything that was happening was a completely normal reaction to a completely abnormal situation. I had no one to talk to, no transportation or way of getting to a doctor... and telling my abuser I needed help would jeopardize the future custody battle overseas in a country that did not sign the Hague Convention. I ate the best that I could, though I was too exhausted to do much exercise. I tried the best I could during the 45 minutes a week I was allowed outside for grocery shopping to acquire what knowledge and supplements I could from the health store in the same shopping plaza. Nothing helped (but, no surprise).

When I was finally out and living back home, just the change in environment was an 80% improvement. Just getting the time to cry for the first time in years helped too. But in spite of the support, therapists, and the fact that my only job at that point was to heal, the exercise and all the advice of the dietetic gurus at the clinic and at the health food store simply did not work. I tried so hard to not take the pill, and my therapist respected that and never pushed it. I was afraid of all the horror stories we hear; I was afraid of getting addicted, I was stubborn against the NWO pharmaceutical companies; I was ashamed because *I* just couldn't do it.... Even though I was happy, feeling safe, and looking forward to the future, the headaches, stomach pains, insomnia, and brain fog still remained. I couldn't get a job. The day I walked out the door with that prescription was the deepest crevice of my life and yet the most liberating; I had to admit for the first time in my life that I truly was helpless. And that it wasn't my fault.

Two weeks later I got a blessed 4 hours of sleep one night. A week after that, I was sleeping 6-7 hours at night. Within a month the headaches were gone. A few months later I went back to college; in my second semester I was offered a full scholarship for graduate school.

I think I remained on the pill for about 12 months before weaning off. I was fine for years without it until life decided to take a dump again, but this time I was given a different prescription. At some point during the clusterfuck, my blood pressure went through the roof and I had a stroke. I had to quit graduate school during my first semester.

So, that little pill gave me my life.. and another one took it away. If anyone cares, the "good" pill was Celexa, and the "bad" one was Cymbalta. I am not telling anyone that they have to take the pill; but I certainly do not discourage or judge anyone who does.

Sometimes I sit on this forum and I read threads... and wonder if people really think that "fear of suffering" is unfounded? I wasn't allowed inside a police station once, because it was considered "impolite" to allow a female to hear the screams of the political prisoners who were being held on the upper floor. I really wonder if people who think all you have to do to escape the effects of an "energy vampire" is to think good thoughts and be forgiving... if these people have ever met a real energy vampire? I wonder if these people who claim that happy thoughts eliminates depression... did they really have depression to begin with?

Then, I have to remind myself what a privileged lot we are... All sitting here with our fantasies, each with an internet connection and many drinking beer or smoking pot... And it's fun to sit back and think all you have to do is to wish it all away... Because after all, it is all fantasy, right?

Just now I stood staring out my window, in complete awe as the thundering booms of a lightning storm caught my attention, its brilliant flashes cascaded across a teeming sea of roiling black clouds, a testament to the awesome power of Nature. The same humbling sensation now crawls up my spine as I read this post.

Truely yours is a testament to the enduring will, and spirit of the human mind!

These things can definitely help people out who are struggling, but everything in moderation, and I believe that to be the source of the problem. I used to have a job as an insurance salesman (bleh didn't last long haha) but I would go over to some of these elderly people's houses....and they would have anywhere between 10-18 different prescribed pills from their doctors. It was absolutely ridiculous. And they all seemed like shells and husks of what a human should be...it was very sad to see the impact of all these cheap, easy solution drugs just being handed out like candy.

[Thebluecanary Profile]

Sockpuppet, I can't even imagine what that must have been like for you to endure, or the sheer strength of will it took you to make it through.

And I think that's part of the problem you're talking about...we ARE privileged, in that most of us have lived to ripe adulthood without being able to conceive of what that kind of suffering is like. Our lives are insulated and soft to the point that so many people can offer the opinion that happy thoughts cure depression and we can wish away bad life events with positive visualization, and probably think they mean it because they have no frame of reference otherwise. They should consider themselves lucky to be able to hold onto that idea.

Nobody has the right to judge you for saving your own life, whatever you had to do to do it.

[Drjones Profile]

Wow,great post Sock!

[Megame23 Profile]

I can see both sides. Yes, some people have benefited greatly from drugs for depression...and I know some of them who will straight tell you that drugs saved their lives. But I also know people who are living some form of a crappy life that they don't want (married to an ass, drowning in the fake country club suburban rat race) who, instead of making the lifestyle changes that would make them happy choose to take that little yellow pill so they don't care that they're miserable. Because it's easier and socially acceptable.

Three years ago (at the risk of boring you with my life story) I went with my little bro to download data from some tracking stations he has in the northeast part of the state. I came home infested with nymph ticks, didn't know it, found some embedded two days later. Right after that I had what felt like the worst flu ever. Went to the doc, told him about the ticks and the flu, got Western Blot test and 10 days of antibiotics for possible Lyme. Felt like shit for a month. Western blot came back negative. Went back to the doc, told him I still felt like shit, and from the symptoms I was having and the research I'd been doing, I felt like I did have Lyme and should have more/stronger antibiotics. He insisted that I must be depressed and refused to treat me for Lyme until I'd been on the antidepressant he gave me for 90 days. I was skeptical but he WAS the Dr...so I took them. And still felt like shit, only with dizziness, nausea, and a general fake odd disconcerting sense of not caring that I felt like shit. And a host of other not cool symptoms that I won't get into, but which are common to women on certain SSRI drugs. When I went back for my follow up he still refused to treat the Lyme, insisting that it was all in my head and the drugs were the thing. So I stopped taking them. And felt even worse. Turns out once you start them you can't just stop, because your brain has lost the ability to process serotonin on it's own. You have to phase off. Doc wouldn't tell me how so I went online and found out myself. Took a month to phase off and it was not fun. Probably another month till my brain started working correctly again.

On top of that wonderful experience I now get to have chronic Lyme. Which probably could have been prevented had the old doctor treated me properly, but which I will now have to deal with pretty much the rest of my life. (Don't even get me started on the whole BS politics of Lyme) Point being, American doctors and the majority of the public seem married to the idea of a miracle pill for what ails them. I think it's a mistake to medicate people into submission rather than deal with the underlying causes of their depression. And damn dangerous on top of it.

Thank you for saying what I was too angry to try to articulate. There is a place in "the system" for all approaches. Not everything works for everyone. And NO ONE should judge someone without knowing the circumstances.

In my situation, I was literally trapped in a severely abusive relationship with Muslim narcissist. It took me four and a half years to get out (alive!) with both children, and another two years to get the divorce. You name it, he did it. Once we were in the US, my abuser made sure I was as isolated as he could get it; no friends, no family, no phone/tv/internet/newspapers/magazines (though at one point I was allowed a radio). I was up until 3 am every night doing the bookkeeping for his business, then after that my duty switched to sex. I was up by 6am each day with the baby. I slept maybe one hour a night, and totally could not function normally. There was no end in sight to the hell. It took me the last three years of my imprisonment to plan my out.

In the meantime, I got pregnant a second time but this time the depression morphed into full-blown psychosis. Thank God I knew what was happening to me. My mantra- my only grip on reality- was to tell myself that everything that was happening was a completely normal reaction to a completely abnormal situation. I had no one to talk to, no transportation or way of getting to a doctor... and telling my abuser I needed help would jeopardize the future custody battle overseas in a country that did not sign the Hague Convention. I ate the best that I could, though I was too exhausted to do much exercise. I tried the best I could during the 45 minutes a week I was allowed outside for grocery shopping to acquire what knowledge and supplements I could from the health store in the same shopping plaza. Nothing helped (but, no surprise).

When I was finally out and living back home, just the change in environment was an 80% improvement. Just getting the time to cry for the first time in years helped too. But in spite of the support, therapists, and the fact that my only job at that point was to heal, the exercise and all the advice of the dietetic gurus at the clinic and at the health food store simply did not work. I tried so hard to not take the pill, and my therapist respected that and never pushed it. I was afraid of all the horror stories we hear; I was afraid of getting addicted, I was stubborn against the NWO pharmaceutical companies; I was ashamed because *I* just couldn't do it.... Even though I was happy, feeling safe, and looking forward to the future, the headaches, stomach pains, insomnia, and brain fog still remained. I couldn't get a job. The day I walked out the door with that prescription was the deepest crevice of my life and yet the most liberating; I had to admit for the first time in my life that I truly was helpless. And that it wasn't my fault.

Two weeks later I got a blessed 4 hours of sleep one night. A week after that, I was sleeping 6-7 hours at night. Within a month the headaches were gone. A few months later I went back to college; in my second semester I was offered a full scholarship for graduate school.

I think I remained on the pill for about 12 months before weaning off. I was fine for years without it until life decided to take a dump again, but this time I was given a different prescription. At some point during the clusterfuck, my blood pressure went through the roof and I had a stroke. I had to quit graduate school during my first semester.

So, that little pill gave me my life.. and another one took it away. If anyone cares, the "good" pill was Celexa, and the "bad" one was Cymbalta. I am not telling anyone that they have to take the pill; but I certainly do not discourage or judge anyone who does.

Sometimes I sit on this forum and I read threads... and wonder if people really think that "fear of suffering" is unfounded? I wasn't allowed inside a police station once, because it was considered "impolite" to allow a female to hear the screams of the political prisoners who were being held on the upper floor. I really wonder if people who think all you have to do to escape the effects of an "energy vampire" is to think good thoughts and be forgiving... if these people have ever met a real energy vampire? I wonder if these people who claim that happy thoughts eliminates depression... did they really have depression to begin with?

Then, I have to remind myself what a privileged lot we are... All sitting here with our fantasies, each with an internet connection and many drinking beer or smoking pot... And it's fun to sit back and think all you have to do is to wish it all away... Because after all, it is all fantasy, right?

Damn... Thanks for sharing Sock.

With our brief interaction earlier in the thread, I was talking about how it is all about the mind being able to overtake tough situations. And I still completely beleive that. In your story, YOU are got you through, it had to take incredible mind power for you to deal with all of that.

But I in no way would blame or criticize you for taking the pills after all of that, to help you along. But you understood what you were taking, and why. You took it after you had dealt with things mentally already, and needed help, because you had to deal with some bull shit no one should have to.



The problem I have with anti-depressants and all the pills given out now, is they are given to people every fucking day. NOT just people who have dealt with extremes like that. Doctors are giving these "happy pills" out like they are candy.

"What your kid doesn't like his school? Just give him 3 of these a day, that will shut him up, err... Make him feel better."

"What, Lucy is feeling sad since she broke her arm? Just have her take these."

"Oh no, Jimmy, whats wrong? I sure can't figure it out... Just take these pills."


This type of shit is happening all over, not just to kids, but to all sorts of people that do NOT need these extreme drugs.

[Glenn Profile]

Thank you for saying what I was too angry to try to articulate. There is a place in "the system" for all approaches. Not everything works for everyone. And NO ONE should judge someone without knowing the circumstances.

In my situation, I was literally trapped in a severely abusive relationship with Muslim narcissist. It took me four and a half years to get out (alive!) with both children, and another two years to get the divorce. You name it, he did it. Once we were in the US, my abuser made sure I was as isolated as he could get it; no friends, no family, no phone/tv/internet/newspapers/magazines (though at one point I was allowed a radio). I was up until 3 am every night doing the bookkeeping for his business, then after that my duty switched to sex. I was up by 6am each day with the baby. I slept maybe one hour a night, and totally could not function normally. There was no end in sight to the hell. It took me the last three years of my imprisonment to plan my out.

In the meantime, I got pregnant a second time but this time the depression morphed into full-blown psychosis. Thank God I knew what was happening to me. My mantra- my only grip on reality- was to tell myself that everything that was happening was a completely normal reaction to a completely abnormal situation. I had no one to talk to, no transportation or way of getting to a doctor... and telling my abuser I needed help would jeopardize the future custody battle overseas in a country that did not sign the Hague Convention. I ate the best that I could, though I was too exhausted to do much exercise. I tried the best I could during the 45 minutes a week I was allowed outside for grocery shopping to acquire what knowledge and supplements I could from the health store in the same shopping plaza. Nothing helped (but, no surprise).

When I was finally out and living back home, just the change in environment was an 80% improvement. Just getting the time to cry for the first time in years helped too. But in spite of the support, therapists, and the fact that my only job at that point was to heal, the exercise and all the advice of the dietetic gurus at the clinic and at the health food store simply did not work. I tried so hard to not take the pill, and my therapist respected that and never pushed it. I was afraid of all the horror stories we hear; I was afraid of getting addicted, I was stubborn against the NWO pharmaceutical companies; I was ashamed because *I* just couldn't do it.... Even though I was happy, feeling safe, and looking forward to the future, the headaches, stomach pains, insomnia, and brain fog still remained. I couldn't get a job. The day I walked out the door with that prescription was the deepest crevice of my life and yet the most liberating; I had to admit for the first time in my life that I truly was helpless. And that it wasn't my fault.

Two weeks later I got a blessed 4 hours of sleep one night. A week after that, I was sleeping 6-7 hours at night. Within a month the headaches were gone. A few months later I went back to college; in my second semester I was offered a full scholarship for graduate school.

I think I remained on the pill for about 12 months before weaning off. I was fine for years without it until life decided to take a dump again, but this time I was given a different prescription. At some point during the clusterfuck, my blood pressure went through the roof and I had a stroke. I had to quit graduate school during my first semester.

So, that little pill gave me my life.. and another one took it away. If anyone cares, the "good" pill was Celexa, and the "bad" one was Cymbalta. I am not telling anyone that they have to take the pill; but I certainly do not discourage or judge anyone who does.

Sometimes I sit on this forum and I read threads... and wonder if people really think that "fear of suffering" is unfounded? I wasn't allowed inside a police station once, because it was considered "impolite" to allow a female to hear the screams of the political prisoners who were being held on the upper floor. I really wonder if people who think all you have to do to escape the effects of an "energy vampire" is to think good thoughts and be forgiving... if these people have ever met a real energy vampire? I wonder if these people who claim that happy thoughts eliminates depression... did they really have depression to begin with?

Then, I have to remind myself what a privileged lot we are... All sitting here with our fantasies, each with an internet connection and many drinking beer or smoking pot... And it's fun to sit back and think all you have to do is to wish it all away... Because after all, it is all fantasy, right?

Thanks for sharing your experiences with us sockpuppet, you have shown that you have incredible wiil power and a determination to survive the most horrific circumstances.

I'm from Northern Ireland originally, and grew up threw the worst of the terrorism, it doesn't do any country or people any good living their lives in a siege mentality and repaying hatred with hatred.

My background is one hampered by a seriously disfunctional family, and made much worse by the cinflict that surrounded it.

When I was sixteen I was abducted and interrogated by members of the IRA, I was from the British community in the wrong part of town, they carried out numerous mock executions on me (though I didn't know that at the time), shoving guns in my mouth and pulling pins out of hand grenades and threatening to blow me up.

At the time I decided not show them any fear, because I knew that's what they are about, I wouldn't call that bravery though, I think I was more resigned to my fate and rather than give them what they wanted I decided to show them defiance instead.

They eventually let me go after someone more senior arrived, and after learning what age I was and that I had friends from their side of the community decided there was nothing to be gained from it, which is unusual for them to say the least.

Looking back on it now I can see were my problems began, I just refused to acknoledge it,.

Years later when I was twenty five I got grief from my own side of the community after I refused to have anything to do with a paramilitary group, that meant trouble for me of course, and some time later I was attacked and nearly killed by these scumbags.

After which I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder by a company doctor my employer asked me to see, although, I got back to work and everything seemed to be going ok.

A couple of years later I decided I was really bored with my life and took the decision to either go and work in Holland or go and live in Scotland, where my people come from.

I decided I better go for Scotland, as I would only have been going to Holland for the weed.

So I came over to Scotland, but the damage had already been done, I hadn't realized it yet, but the depression had already begun to hit hard, it hit me so hard that I can hardly describe it, it's like I was pulled into the deepest darkest pit of hell I could ever have imagined.

I would never leave the house, and could barely even summon the strength to get up and do the simplist of things, after a number of years I saw a programme on TV about depression and decided to go to a doctor and ask for help.

Just doing that took a lot, but I think it's true what they say, that you have to admit you have a problem before you can try to fix it, in saying that, I've tried medication four times now but it doesn't work.

So now I'm looking into eating a healthy diet and seriously doing some exercise because the depression has ruined my physical health, maybe if I can work on increasing my stamina and feeling physically healthier I might have a better chance of pushing through to the other side of this depression.

I have to think, as I entered into this depression, there must be an exit too....I hope so anyway.

Sorry if this is long winded, I just thought I would share my experiences because you've been brave enough to share yours.

Thanks for the inspiration sockpuppet.