Re: The real cause of depression
Originally Posted by
Puddle Duck
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@ Pesta.
You sound as if you've had a rough time. It's good that you can put it on this forum as I'm sure it must help you.
I do think medication can do far more harm than good, but that's the only thing the professionals have relied upon over many years .
Knowing how many come off the medication for similar diagnoses because it makes them feel ten times worse, just proves a point.
I feel desperately sorry for those who ended up in care for one reason or another, and who have been force fed these medications to the point of them taking away all their abilities of living any sort of life. Those poor people have been made brain dead because of the easy option .
I hope you manage to find some peace in your mind and enjoy the things in life that mean something special to you. Little by little, Pesta and a little becomes a lot.
Hiya Puddle... honestly I didn't put it down for sympathy - really I don't want or need any. I'm truly fine. It was more memory jolting, which this place seems to do to me sometimes.
No, I wouldn't say I had it rough, more minor hiccups. I put it into context by appreciating how minor it all was. How many poor sods who suffer untold problems after serving in the forces being left with PTSD, broken minds and bodies for what they've been through. Getting no proper help for their ills when they come home - just left to rot homeless on the streets. And the poor souls where life is just too much bear with violence or pain and they just don't know what to do anymore, so they end it.
Regarding medication. It's on my notes about having a phobia about medication. Apart from my experience of it, I watched my mum be a zombie for 40yrs. A total zombie because of medication. No emotion, no laughter, dead eyes, no nothing except timidity. Sectioned so many times, gawd knows how many ECT's. God, it was awful. After those 40yrs she was showing signs of Parkinsons and they thought it was the meds so decided to grade her off those and put her on different meds.
Well, what a difference. I was 10 when she was zombified. I was 48 when she a person again. She giggled, her eyes sparkled, she discussed, she was into politics, she painted, she read. The last 10 yrs of her life she was a person again. It was always obvious when she pretended to take her meds but didn't so stuff went wrong, but what a character she was.
It saddened me because I waited so long to really see her - all because of medication. Pah! Ok, she was a schizophrenic rather than depressive... but after all that it's no wonder my dad buggered off.
Instead of meds, wouldn't it be wonderful if we were all born with a discreet little door on our foreheads. And when things go off balance there's a little key to open it, to tweak things to make it better. . Bit like tweaking an engine when the timing's out. Sorted in a jiff
Right, another ramble, but that got that off my chest too