r/Antipsychiatry

As the title says, I have to go see the pretentious psychiatrist today. I'm in the process of tapering off seroquel (on my own) and I still have to see him so I can taper properly. I can't wait for the day I don't have to go anymore. I have major health issues, osteoarthritis, a bulding disc, scoliosis, neuropathy, emphemesya and copd and it's really hard to get out to do much, but he insists that I come into the office now instead of the video visits I was doing. The office is thirty minutes away and it's just very inconvenient. I'm very meek and feel pushed around when I have visits with him, I've thought about rescheduling but I might as well get it over with. I guess this is just a vent, thank you for reading.

Seeing how mentally disabled people are treated worldwide, seeing how every government wants to cut their benefits towards us, seeing how many governments want to cut off their access to meds with no plan to ween them off us, seeing how many people say r*tard, seeing how many people bold faced support eugenics whilst decrying other social injustices, seeing how many people tell us our struggle isn’t unique or special because we aren’t a vulnerable group of people…

I wouldn’t be surprised if some politician gets elected in the U.S, U.K, some European country, or all of them, who is obsessed with efficiency, and realizes that we could be taken out and people would not only not care but cheer…

And therapists and psychiatrists will obviously comply, because they care more about the law than their patients’ well being.

I've had two psychotic breaks. I want to get off medication because I don't like the side affects, but I don't want to hear voices or have insane delusions either.

This is the game. You're angry because of medical lunatics abusing narrative control against you.

Professional narcissists do narrative control a lot to present themselves as infallible, all-knowing and omnipotent and YOU as always the one to blame. Professional narcissists dictate their misleading narrative into your medical record.

These are charlatans who fool and harm people. Then, they get off on that. They are sadists.

You know medical lunatics are the worthless ones. You are the important person, you're precious, and they are there to serve you. Quacks only poison healthy people to disable them out of hate. That's a total disgrace.

Start controlling your narrative to make you infallible, all-knowing, omnipotent and shift the blame for everything that's bad on quacks. Then, write a complaint with your narrative control, and have them punished.

I'm apparently 'bipolar' and have been going through a ton of meds recently after manic episode in April. It was really scary but I had been awake all night driving 17 hours and was heavily using kratom and buspar, so I can't be sure what the actual cause was.

I was started on Olanzapine which was an actual nightmare and caused severe anxiety that it was supposed to actually help with it.

I'm now on Seroquel and have tapered off the Olanzapine, I take Lamictal in the mornings and have never had much issue with it.

Anyway, this morning I got a terrible pain in my heart briefly and I am terrified now. I know it's one of the meds I am taking. I want to go off everything so badly but of course my psych and my parents are vehemently against that.

I think I'm going to quit taking my meds, this heart thing has me so scared. Can I get some encouragement/success stories? I've cut out all nicotine, alcohol, and caffeine and have been working out daily. I hope that total sobriety will fix my issues and avoiding meds will save my heart.

Thank you for any comments.

its just not.

18f at the time. I have something that has not settled in my mind for years. At the time I was 18. Was admitted to eating disorder inpatient unit. Upon admission, they had me in a gown and said the psychiatrist needs to check me. I was compliant as i knew it was common for patients in this setting to self harm and thats what they were checking for (i personally did not). Then they said underwear needs to be off and he needs to look there. I asked to skip that part and said I wasn't comfortable and they suddenly got really firm and cold with me and said there was no way I could be admitted unless he checked me there also. There was a tech on the other side of the curtain. I was horrified that I was refused treatment unless I had my vagina looked at. I had no choice. My friend who was there said that did not happen to her. Tell me, is this standard? I still think about how I froze and the lack of control I had in that moment. Then I had to use him as my psychiatrist.

I would do poll but I think many like to vent instead.

Also if you could go back and redo anything or start over with the amount of pain, anguish, shame, and disturbances how would you have treated the scenarios that played into your antipsychiatry stories?

I have severe OCD and really can’t function without them. The thoughts become too loud.

However I despise the mental healthcare industry - especially involuntary hospitalizations.

Am I a hypocrite?

This article examines the ideological and institutional forces that led to the marginalization of homeopathy in American medicine, despite its popularity among prominent figures, including John D. Rockefeller.

>Even though John D. Rockefeller Sr., America’s richest man and first billionaire, provided substantial financial support to conventional medical schools and institutions, his personal medical care was supervised by doctors specializing in homeopathic medicine, a completely different type and style of treatment.

>According to Kirschmann in A Vital Force, not only did Rockefeller use homeopathic physicians, but all of the Standard Oil families sought homeopathic care, primarily with Dr. Merrick. Merrick was highly respected by both homeopathic and conventional physicians, and it was rumored that various conventional obstetricians secretly consulted with her on their more complex cases.

I stopped years ago, but only now do I realize I was right. I have the clarity needed to look back and observe the progressive cognitive decline that occurred while taking the medication, as well as the gradual recovery that followed.

my decline into 3 phases: 1) emotional destabilization and psychological breakdown; 2) total flattening of emotions and resignation, accompanied by a loss of self-awareness and a decline in mental and physical faculties; 3) chronic pessimism, rejection of life, and withdrawal into a fantasy world.

My five-stage recovery: 1) recovering from the severe physical problems that forced me to stop taking the medication (a very long process lasting a decade); 2) rebound emotional destabilization, I had to quit the drugs abruptly due to the risk of permanent heart damage, so I couldn't taper off; I suffered several crises during the first year, especially in the initial three months, and things felt truly out of control in my brain, as if it were physiologically readjusting; 3) disorientation and the gradual recovery of mental and physical abilities, along with regaining self-awareness (the longest and most important phase); 4) breaking off unhealthy relationships, including with the people who had pushed me into the hands of those abusive psychiatrists; 5) the most difficult part, which is still ongoing: rebuilding my life, getting a job, bringing my personal finances under control, forming new friendships and relationships, rebuilding a social network (the biggest challenge), and fully restoring my self-esteem.

NOW I AM CERTAIN: THEY ARE WHAT CREATE PEOPLE SUFFERING FROM MENTAL DISORDERS. THESE ARE CONDITIONS INDUCED BY PSYCHIATRIC DRUGS, RECREATIONAL DRUGS, OR BOTH.

You end up there because you have been unlucky in life and have suffered abuse. They hide your story, rewrite it, blame and stigmatize you, damage you cognitively and emotionally, and destabilize you by placing you in situations that ruin your reputation; they cause you to lose awareness of yourself and your life, how you reached that point and how they are complicit in it.

This is not about shirking responsibility, as they want you to believe. This is about reclaiming yourself

They ruined a part of my life and destroyed my relationships with some people, but at least I didn't lose myself, and I can rebuild my life and friendships now, even if it’s difficult.

Your life starts over the moment you leave them behind. Don't forget.

I'm not completely against psychiatric treatment. I'm currently on antidepressants because I think they can help my life.

But I am annoyed because I was put in mental hospital for quite a long time, and during that time I was injected with drugs against my will, without being told about some of the worrying side effects they can cause. I wish they had let me choose my preferred medication out of several alternatives, but they didn't.

Do you think your experiences with psychiatry have negatively affected your life?

People who defend psychiatry will say "if someone is a danger then they should be detained in order to protect the public", and I agree with that, because I don't want the public to be endangered. But I also think that psych patients should be treated as well as possible, and should be allowed to make medication choices between different drugs in the same class, for example. I think psychiatry at the moment doesn't care about the negative impacts it has on patients' lives.

I don't really want to type out these stories again but this is what happened to me when I went to Englewood hospital in Englewood, NJ over a year ago and was ultimately harassed and kicked out for drug seeking because they took me off my meds and refused antipsycs: https://www.reddit.com/r/Antipsychiatry/comments/1jvioda/had_an_absolutely_dehumanizing_experience_at_a/

And this is what happened after I arrived to New York Presbyterian for a planned inpatient for women struggling with neurodivergence and hormonal issues: https://www.reddit.com/r/AskNYC/comments/1ukw7ep/looking_for_civil_rights_attorneys_who_handle/

I don't even have it in me to make reports about these incidents. I know something will definitely be done for NYPres because they defrauded medicaid to get paid for denying me the care I was promised after they found out I was an undesirable (they didn't even know I had it until I got to the hospital and I think that's what sealed my place in the hell they put me through - they originally had my place in program authorized by Aetna plan). But nothing will be made right for *me*.

I have a completely unsupportive family that steals from me and I want to leave it and the area I grew up and still live in but it looks like that will never happen. I knew after the experience at the first hospital that these assholes are actually trying kill us. I'm so tired and have zero energy and I'm so close to giving up.

CE: weight stigma, suicide, sex, cursing

TLDR- medical system failed me. Misdiagnosed with depression. Came close to death before finding real diagnosis by demanding ER CT scan. Large brain tumor found behind right eye.

They didn't do a brain scan prior to treatment even though I asked for one. How else do you track progress? Doctor told me "it's to expensive ". The tms treatment had no effect on my "depression " because the diagnosis was wrong. They did tms left side and I started having migraines. They switched to right side stimulation and that is where my tumor was located. The migraines made me vomit. The summer heat increased the swelling. I was going around with a ziploc bag to vomit in while I continued to try and live a normal life. I was prescribed migraine medication and anti nausea pills but they has no effect. I went to pcp to try and get imaging but the closest center had a 2 week wait. I was starting to have right side stroke symptoms on my face.

I asked to go to ER. Called my 21 year old step daughter to drive me. Immediately got a CT there ams they found a large tumor behind my right eye. I was so relieved to get the real diagnosis after 2 years of chronic illness rapidly accelerating despite trying every treatment available for depression. Dozens of doctors, blood tests, medications, genetic test, therapy, yoga, leaving work on fmla, dieting, working out, trying to lose weight but only gaining despite my best efforts, I tried everything to help my body.

For 2 years maybe longer the tumor was slowly getting bigger and pushing my right hemisphere brain back. My brain started to shut down all non essential functions. I was turning into a zombie. I thought I had aphantasia because I could no longer visualize pictures. Brain fog moved in. Hobbies didn't interest me. I felt disconnected from loved ones. I was scared. I didn't understand what was happening to me.

I lost my creativity, my connection to my faith and everyone I loved. I was suicidal. Life didn't seem worth living and felt like it would never improve. I was scared of going to hell or failing to complete an attempt and ending up disabled. So I planned and ideated instead. I sat in my running car in the garage and cried while trying to suffocate. Didn't work. I made a noose and researched how to do it properly. Meanwhile continuing with my depression treatments. I'm so glad I never went through with it.

I went on vacation with my mom to see my sister in Hawai'i and had some fun. But I was tired. I would sleep all night and wake up with no energy. I was told to exercise more and eat right. Fat shamed by my family and doctors. Am I lazy? Maybe. No energy to do laundry or dishes or cleaning. I am a piece of sh*t. Not good enough. A worthless waste of space.

So after ER I was ambulanced to the closet hospital with a neurosurgeon. Stabilized in the ICU until my turn for surgery. Surgeon said a few more days and I would have gone blind or died suddenly. June 9th was my turn and I had faith God put me in good hands. The surgery was 9 hours total. Went better than expected. My right eye was salvaged. Tumor sent off for biopsy. When I woke up I felt amazing. Everything came rushing back. I was me again and better than ever.

The recovery process will be long. This was brain surgery not wisdom tooth removal. My brain is confused as to what happened. My body was weak from being bed bound. I didn't feel the sun for 3 weeks. Light hurt my right eye so bad. Too much sound or light or activity overloaded my brain quickly. Executive functioning and impulse control were dysfunctional. I couldn't regulate my emotions. I felt disconnected from my own body. I was so scared and kept asking nurses and doctors how was I doing and what was needed to help me recover. I couldn't see out of my swollen right eye. I couldn't think straight. My family was unable to visit me in the hospital, so I was alone most of the time. I started calling friends and family to reconnect using video calls so I could see their face and their lips while talking and to see their eyes connect with mine helped a lot

I was a fall and seizure risk so not allowed out of bed alone. The hospital was short staffed so I couldn't reliably get help. I didn't want pain meds because of a bad trip from oxy. So i lived off ice packs for the pain. I begged nurses to let me walk the hallways but they were too busy to babysit me. I was able to walk with a walker but only under supervision.

I had no one to hug me to advocate for me to explain what's going on. My friends helped but their own lives are so busy. I felt so helpless and scared and lonely.

I was told by a hospital neurosurgery lady that once I got to outpatient treatment I would make rexovery progress. She assumed I would be discharged after a few days.

My left arm swelled up for 3 days then the pressure popped painfully. Sonogram showed a blood clot. Specialist came in and helped me.

I developed a strange rash a few days after transfer to neurological recovery unit. all over my chest, neck and waist. Not itchy or painful thankfully. No treatment was provided.

I couldn't poop. No muscle action, no urge, no gas. My abdomen bloated to painful levels. I begged everyone to help me. I would do anything. They gave me stool softeners, 5 different enemas, all the prune juice, this lemon fizzy thing, miralax, ducolax, but nothing worked. For almost 3 weeks I couldn't poop. I started to think my gut brain axis got severed. I thought I was gonna die from not pooping. They did an abdominal xray but nothing was compacted. I was miserable. Suppositories helped me feel some cramping but still couldn't move stool.

Finally my aunt called my mom and said for me to get the colonoscopy prep liquid. So I did and and chugged the first dose. The hospital decided to release me to rehab an hour later. I pooped all the way there and then got my first shower since being hospitalized on the 5th of June. It was now June 17th, 2026.

Finally a place to heal. Rehab was transformative.

I made so many friends there. Talking to people felt so good after being alone for so long. I could go for walks, outside even! I felt the breeze, saw birds and flowers. Touched a tree. Felt the rain on my skin. Snuggled with therapy dogs. I felt alive again. I can't wait to go visit and give back as much as I can. I want to help everyone have a good life and make a difference in the world.

When I had moments of mental clarity, I would write down things to tell my doctors and nurses because my working memory was impaired. I exported my thoughts to paper.

I got better at listening to my body. I could understand what it needed and I would give it the nourishment necessary to get better. I told my doctor about my extreme pain levels and they overhauled my medication so that I could function better.

When I could somewhat see out of both eyes, I started to organize my brain by Journaling and writing notes. My body was weak but my mind was steadily getting stronger. I was motivated and positive and happy to be alive.

I discharged home on June 30th. Can barely walk but my mind is getting organized and I developed systems and routines to help me.

I'm on the path to getting my life back and I'm going to make sure it's a kick ass one because it's the one life I have.

And I lived happily ever after. The End.

My family of psychopaths killed me they put me on drugs i'm fucked up

I had a psychotic episode in 2024 A man named Orhan told me he worked for the CIA. I requested psychological testing, and after that he asked me, “Nick, are you sure you want to go through with this?” This occurred at Saint Clare’s Hospital in Boonton, New Jersey. I was manic and I was on drugs at the time, but I still understood what was happening.

I signed a document. Orhan told me he had worked with NCIS and that he had connections to the CIA after I asked him. After that, he said he was going to “bug” my brain. He then did something that felt like he implanted a device and shocked it.

Orhan told me, “Nick, I think you have something you might like,” and put me in front of a TV showing Widespread Panic. I was moving my arms and hands and I felt like I was controlling the music with my movements. A woman came in and asked us to stop. I was upset that it ended, and Orhan looked sad too.

After that, I woke up in a different room. A woman was there and I believed she was modulating my emotions using frequency modulators or something similar. From my perspective, she then proceeded with what felt like a “procedure” or “conduction.”

Later, another woman—wearing a lot of necklaces and jewelry—came in and told me, “You need to get out of here. These are very bad people.” I got up and ran as fast as I could, but guards restrained me. Then I woke up in another room. I looked weaker, and I felt like I looked like a younger version of myself.

A woman told me I was “back at Carrier Clinic,” because I had been at Carrier Clinic when I was 15. Everything about my body looked younger to me. I asked for my arms to become stronger and they did. I asked for the hospital to act like it was the 1960s and everyone acted like it. I felt like they were projecting memories onto the fluorescent lights. It was terrifying. I was punching at the lights trying to get the memories out on the ceiling. The images looked very CGI made.

I then asked for psychological testing again when I readmitted myself. And I meant the same man. I asked him may you tell me
More about those computer simulations you put me through and his response was “can we talk about that later?” And I never saw him
Again and was transferred to a different psych hospital :(

Han pasado meses desde que clopixol me terminó de destrozar lo que es el motor fino de mi cuerpo.

Me cuesta andar, me cuesta estar de pie, me cuesta respirar, me cuesta no fatigarme por cosas minúsculas, no puedo fumar weed porque no puedo ni moverme después, no tengo hambre, no tengo ilusiones, no tengo ni interés en seguir vivo para ver cómo poco a poco empeoro en todos los sentidos.

Mi vida entera ha sido arruinada por los medicamentos que me han obligado a tomar en los putos psiquiátricos y ahora tengo 2 opciones: o vivir discapacitado o suicidarme.

Así de fácil es todo. En eso se resume mi experiencia de vida. Solo puedo pensar así, o acepto el papel de víctima discapacitada que además nadie comprende ni entiende, lo que implica años de miseria y de vivir por debajo de las posibilidades de una persona sana, o sino, quitarme la vida lo antes posible.

Siendo sincero, prefiero quitármela, solo tengo 26 años, y siendo honesto, no entiendo cuál es el punto de vivir así. No sé ni cómo somos capaces de aguantar ni un mes así, no existe forma de dar un significado a haber sido desactivado neurológicamente. Si es un castigo, ya lo debería de haber pagado. Llevo 3 años, me merezco algo mejor. No puedo ni jugar a la consola ni fumar weed ni hacer ejercicio y no sentirme discapacitado.
Todo lo que intento acaba bañado en esa sensación de incapacidad que hace que todo sea una puta mierda, y que todo acabe en querer morir de una forma u otra. ¿Cuál es el punto de vivir así?

Solo quiero dejar claro que nunca me voy a recuperar porque es así como actúan estos medicamentos, no sé si destrozan, alteran, mutan o que pero la sensación nunca se va. Llevo 3 años con el glande insensibilizado, 3 años… y eso no es lo único. Como se supone que voy a querer seguir aquí si lo que me han hecho solo se puede definir como castigo o tortura. Es impresionante, pero en qué mundo un “MEDICAMENTO” es capaz de hacerte querer estar muerto. Donde he nacido?

Está claro que solo quiero morir. Cuánto me queda? No lo sé.

26 años. Eso significa mínimo 30 años de sufrimiento si no le echo pelotas al suicidio. No puedo amigos, necesito ayuda. Yo no quiero vivir una tortura todos los días, es demasiado.

Lucifer is king of false and manipulation, they lied im schizophrenic and forced 5 long acting injections of antipsychotics on me and only because im in Poland i avoided community treatment order that would last years and im about to sue soon.

I don’t regret trying antidepressants. I had to know! I was desperate for something to work, starving for someone to care, and willing to try anything for even an inch of progress. But looking back at the trail of prescriptions makes me burn with a mixture of frustration, jealousy, and profound grief. I watch other people find a pill that fixed things for them, while I was thrown into a psychiatric blender.

My journey wasn’t guided by careful medicine; it was a circus of medical incompetence. My first psychiatrist was a quack who tried to force me onto antipsychotics that weren't even remotely indicated. Later, a neuropsychiatrist coldly recommended pushing my dosages way past FDA guidelines - treating my body like a chemistry experiment, even though I was already a non-responder at the max therapeutic dose. Now, I finally have a nurse practitioner who is kind and genuinely tries, but even she is visibly out of her depth with the complexity of my case.

For years, my life was just a foggy whirlwind of switching pills. I endured a relentless onslaught of debilitating side effects with minimal therapeutic results. While my brain was swimming in this chemical chaos, I was dealing with constant diagnostic overshadowing. My terrifying neurological symptoms were dismissed over and over. They took one look at my chart and slapped the label of "anxiety" on everything. I wasn’t anxious, it wasn't anxiety, but nobody heard me. Every doctor’s appointment felt like screaming underwater. I lost my voice somewhere in that fog, and the sadness of that loss sits heavy in my chest. I still haven't found my voice yet.

I lost so much of my youth to these medications. I lost my identity, my autonomy, and my reality. Over the last few years, I have slowly come off all my mental health medications, and the bitter irony is that my anxiety is now manageable, and my depression is pretty much gone. It leaves me standing in a strange, confusing space. I wonder if meds were rushed into too quickly. It makes me question if I ever even needed them in the first place. I don’t even know what to think, except that I was a desperate child who needed real help, and instead, I was lost in the process.

Facts about involuntary psychiatric hold: The United Nations recognizes it as a form of torture. It increases suicide risk by 191 times (so what's the point?). It increases the risk of dying from heart disease and stroke by 3.5 times. You are forced to take mind- and body-changing and damaging medicines. 45% of patients in psych wards have experienced sexual violence during an admission. I think one way to help suicidal people is by giving them community or trying to understand their situation and help them instead of putting them into torture rooms for daring to seek help.