In this article by Mandy, a mother who hails from the Netherlands, she describes her lifelong struggle with depression, and how a combination of therapy, self-care, and antidepressant medication helps her manage it. Right now I am putting together an article about medication and the stigma faced by people who use it. There are different levels of stigma associated with different medications. For example, the focus of the article I’m writing is methadone and buprenorphine, both used to treat opiate dependency and addiction. But medicine for other mental health conditions face a fair amount of stigma too. How many times you have you seen that meme telling people pills are shit and trees are medicine? Did you know that many advocates of the 12-step program do not consider users of appropriately prescribed psychiatric medication, including antidepressants, sober? Stigma is real and it is rampant. So I commend Mandy for standing up and advocating for the medicine that has allowed her to thrive.
Mandy is a 33 year old working mom. She is married to a graphic designer and is the mom of a three year old. Mandy is currently in the midst of a career change and will be going to nursing school in September. She blogs about trying to live a balanced life on www.mommandy.com You can follow her on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/MomMandy84/
For the most part, the media gets PTSD dangerously wrong.
PTSD does not, generally, make a person violent. A kind, non-violent person will not acquire PTSD and then also the sudden unshakable desire to shoot up a grocery store. Sure, as within any population, you get your violent psychopaths. But psychopathy is a disorder that is distinct from PTSD and not something that comes hand-in-hand.
One thing the media got right though, is that we do have a tendency to get ourselves strapped to hospital beds and put on psychiatric holds.
I have technically only been admitted to the ‘psych ward’ once; last year, after I tried to kill myself I spent about five days in a psych unit. But I have spent numerous evenings with one hand and the opposite foot strapped down to a gurney, waiting for hours until a psychiatric professional condoned my release.