Tuesday, July 7, 2009

It all started when...

There are a number of reasons that led me to seek help from mental health professionals. Most of these came to a head when I was sixteen, the age I used in the previous story. This was the year that my alcoholic and sexually abusive father finally walked out. That actually probably would have been a good thing, except that my mom, who has mental health issues of her own began to decompensate. She had a lot of anger and no means of expressing it and became occasionally physically violent. At around the same time I contracted mononucleosis although we wouldnt' find that out till later. Finally, my boyfriend at the time expressed that he no longer shared my feelings and essentially disappeared off the face of the earth. This was really the kicker for me. I know it seems trivial, but I never really expected much of my parents in terms of support and stability. He had been the person I'd come to rely on and unfortunately when it ended, as most high-school relationships do, I had no leg to stand on. I stopped wanting to go to school. I quit my job as a groom at Claremont Riding Academy. I cried constantly, and I slept a lot. I began to long for a way out. So, I was brought to a psychiatrist. What with the circumstances I was in, no physical causes of my malaise were even considered. No physical was done, no blood tests for hypothyroidism or vitamin deficiencies even though these are terrifically common. On the basis of a one and a half hour interview I was not referred to a therapist even though it certainly seemed that circumstances and trauma played a large role in how I was feeling. Instead, I was given drugs. First Zoloft, then Effexor, then (to go in a completely different direction) Klonopin. The mono went undiagnosed for nine months, and a child who had, undoubtedly, a lot going on in her life was labled mentally ill. When the drugs had no effect, other options were not considered. The doses were increased until the side effects were intolerable and then another drug was prescribed. At no time was the possibility that my symptoms could have been the result of anything other than disordered brain chemistry entertained. The symtoms were not investigated, they were taken at absolute face value, and no real diagnosis was put forth. I was just put on drugs. That's it.

No comments:

Post a Comment