In trying to advocate for better mental health (MH), I lifted the hood & took a good look. What I found was ugly, the conclusions of which I can no longer recommend to myself or others.

So what I’ve effectively done is eliminated my own resources by proxy, at a time in life when these resources are needed most. On top this, I likely didn’t change a single thing.

Welcome to advocacy.

I never really dove into how/why MH services did so much damage to my life personally. I wanted to keep things positive; hopeful.

But truth is, the haphazard way in which my mental health was handled is downright damaging (present tense); eternal damage I can’t undo.

The stigma alone I was never prepared for ruined me. Five of my closest family members no longer speak to me, mother & father included. Not because I’m sick, because they are ignorant. Not because I did something wrong, because I didn’t do what their bias wanted. Not because I’m guilty, because I may be damaged.

And good god the dismissal – if not theirs, tragically my own.

A big part of this relates directly to my unwillingness to use a broken MH they see as pure solutions I am “irresponsibly neglecting”.

So much of mental illness (MI) isn’t the patients ignorance, but everyone else’s.

Open diagnosis act like a highlighter to other peoples fear, hate & prejudice, that you would otherwise not know existed.

Again, no one remotely prepared me for these gargantuan hurdles, certainly not my half-baked MH providers. Yet they had no problem handing out diagnosis like Tic Tacs.

“Talk to us when you’re back in therapy & on meds”.

“Ok then, adios folk”.

Congrats MH providers, you have persisted a broken narrative I took no part in but got handed anyway, without leaving room for real treatment failures to exist let alone stand comfortably or dare thrive.

I never told my family MH services worked. In fact, my 20 years using them + 20 meds proved quite the opposite. Of which they all chalked up to simply my “bad attitude”, all while they refuse to use these same MH services in their own busted lives.

A drunk mother lecturing me on MH, an obese father lecturing me on anything. All of it so sad & broken. I just shook my head & walked away. Never asking for any of this, just wanting to be left alone.

It’s just disgusting. None of them remotely aware of the huge statistical failure rates present in all MH services, let alone how they pertain to me.

Instead, I find only more ignorance, glued together with bias & stigma forever unchallenged.

If not for this ignorance & stigma, MH would be a breeze; a piece of cake.

Which begs to question, why is this ignorance, stigma, bias, subjectivity & failure in MH not the core of every discussion had?

I’ll tell you why: toxic positivity. In everyone’s urgency to believe they can help people, they have negated the millions of people they failed catastrophically, all while believing their own horseshit.

Suicide rates are out of control. But what these numbers don’t show are all who tried suicide & failed. Nor all the broken soles out there limping damaged goods trying to find a sliver called home.

All while we get to read hipshot fortune cookie statements on Twitter as if broken isn’t welcome. We are boxing out our own busted brothers & sisters, fathers & mothers, then stamping half-baked approval.

Instead, MH professionals make themselves cute little bubbles they can pocket into happy, where reality gets shaped to their own liking completely irregardless of the world at large; advertising mental health services as if they are solutions we all win from;

A sales pitch: broken brains are big business; $300+ Billion.

If we aren’t part of the solutions fixing a horrendous mental health system, we become part of the problems.

Please take a good look at your industry, seek peer review as SOP, challenge haphazard diagnosis, & for gods sake leave room for treatment failure.

I never once saw a functional mechanism able to measure/conclude treatment failure.

It was always left up to this wish-washy subjectivity science frowns upon.

Fix. It.

Regards,
Mizzstik

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