In retrospect, I can see that depression first struck me when I was 14: Suddenly, laying in bed doing nothing seemed vastly more appealing than doing any of the things I had loved for years—dance, skiing, even school. My high school Livejournal is filled with my confusion about my unpredictable moods, but I assumed that all teenagers were moody and that everyone felt the same as I did. It wasn’t until I got to college that I realized something might actually be wrong, and it took until I was 20 to get diagnosed as bipolar and put on medication.
I’ve been in various forms of treatment for years now: [...]
"Bedazzled by the prospect of unraveling the mysteries of psychic suffering, researchers have spent recent decades on a fool’s errand—chasing down chemical imbalances that don’t exist. And the result, as Friedman put it, is that 'it is hard to think of a single truly novel psychotropic drug that has emerged in the last thirty years.'" [The New Yorker]
A not-insignificant number of individuals who routinely hear voices find that it ain't no thing (admittedly, their voices appear mainly to provide a commentary on their day, i.e. "eating some toast, huh? it's nice out!" instead of more classically delusional/malevolent manifestations.)
Other voice-hearers who ARE troubled by their voices advocate a clinical approach which investigates why they hear what they hear, and the implications for their individual preoccupations, instead of necessarily prioritizing an end to the auditory hallucinations themselves. Some doctors worry that attitude will provide an excuse for the dangerously delusional to avoid seeking help.
So, really, is this just another flashpoint in the anti-psychiatry [...]