posted on Apr, 22 2016 @ 07:40 PM
We all know that mom that thinks her kid has a problem when the kid is, to the naked eye, just being a normal kid. That was my childhood. I went
through a lot of abuse growing up, some physical, mostly mental and definitely medicinal at times. My mom was afraid I was going to become
schizophrenic like her sister. My aunt had become a full fledge religious schizophrenic at the age of 14. Guess what age my mom started having her own
meltdowns about my mental health? That’s right, one year prior to that age. I’ll spare you the details of those events leading up to my
hospitalization and just give you the cliff notes. I had been physically abused and I was emotionally and mentally done. I needed to get out in a
hurry so I scrawled a hasty note on a piece of lined paper and left it for my parents to find. I packed everything I could fit into a back pack and I
ran away. 2 days later they found me and what happened next will solidify my opinions on the way we medicate children forever.
When I was found, I was brought to a psychiatrist. The man read over the note I left (which my mother had cleverly blotted out with permanent marker
the part where I threatened to tell the police where they stashed all of their drugs if they tried to find me) and promptly declared that I must have
bipolar type 2 disorder, despite me telling him that I was only angry because I was being told I was a worthless piece of trash on a daily basis and
that I was being pummeled to the point I felt embarrassed to go to school lest someone see the bruises on my face. I had been through this roundabout
for years with the school system calling me in and asking questions about my marks and then seemingly accepting whatever half-assed excuse my parents
came up with for losing their cool. I had lost hope at this point and knew that no one was ever going to take my side. And thus, I was placed in
outpatient therapy for anger management. Sigh.
One of the workers asked me why I was there and if I was afraid to go home. No # lady, of course I was scared. Anyone would be. The worker was the 1st
one to take my claims seriously. She refused to put me in foster care and immediately lead me to another building, explaining that she wanted to
protect me and that in order to get me in family custody, she couldn’t put me in foster care but would be securing me in an inpatient ward until CPS
had done a thorough investigation. Sounded great! FINALLY some relief. No one had taken steps like this… not police, not family services, not even
my own family had been willing to step in. What I thought was my relief quickly turned into the longest nightmare of my life.
5 minutes into my stay I had to meet another doctor. Apparently it was “required”. The doctor spoke very little English, only let me get about 5
sentences out before declaring me a severe depressive and potentially psychotic and demanded I be put on medication for the remainder of my stay. This
could not be happening. I tried to reason with him, stating I just needed CPS to do their job with my family and I wouldn’t be staying long.
That’s when I was threatened with “Either you take it willingly or by force… your call.” I began to cry but soon after the medication kicked
in, I was an emotionless zombie so that part was okay, I guess. The place was filled with kids with problems, some real, some fabricated. You can
always tell the legit ones from the ones just being there because they thought it was cool. I was groped by boys who were in there for sexual
deviation, almost strangled by a guy who would never tell us what he actually said, but I could guess and I was attacked by a girl who was having to
be constantly restrained due to her schizophrenia. Whatever. Nothing I hadn’t been dealing with for years, honestly. (That’s really dark, I
apologize…but the truth is dark sometimes I guess.) When I finally got out, my home life had gotten exponentially worse. Now I was the pariah of my
family and I was a devil child (as so lovingly put by my grandmother).
For years after, I struggled and was never taken off of medication. Ever see Good Will Hunting where he goes through a multitude of psychoanalyses and
just starts having fun with it? That was me. The only problem is I was prescribed medications that were different about every other month. Let that
sink in. Not only was I made to TAKE these meds but I also wasn’t given the proper time to adjust to these things. I attempted suicide 3 times
(thank god I sucked at getting that done), I stayed in a total of 6 hospitals with 8 others as outpatient facilities. I can’t even tell you the
number of therapists and programs I had been placed in. A list of my “diagnosis” includes, but is not limited to; Bi-polar, Bi-polar type 2,
Depression, Anxiety, Schizophrenia, Borderline Personality Disorder, Sociopathy and so on. Different doctor, different diagnosis, every time.
This is real, folks. Medication abuse against children is very very real. And it can lead to a very messed up adolescence and even adult hood. I am
not sure what kept me here. I am not sure what kept me alive all that time. All I can tell you is that not many make it out of my situation. Not many
get to see the light at the other side. I was blessed with a fighter’s spirit and an incredible ability to bounce back from these situations. If you
see someone over medicating their child, please speak up.