“Closed?! How can the pharmacy be closed?! My meds are all gone! I can’t cope without them!! I feel myself losing control already!!!” This frantic dialogue was quite a common thing to hear in my house during my teen years. A young relation of mine had started cutting at a rather tender age. No one knew what triggered it or how it began. All we knew was that her gorgeous alabaster skin was now covered in deep, puckered brown ripples that were mercilessly opened over and over again. No matter how much people would urge, beg, plead, or even threaten her, she did not seem to be able to stop on her own. Without any hint as to the cause or any hope of an end, she was taken to see a psychiatrist. After a brief half …show more content…
She admits to being a young lady with a dramatic flair that was “doing things that fourteen year olds do. And then some” (Slater 75). Slater recalls parts of her experience in the ward, including the patients getting together to discuss their diagnosis and to swap “tricks of the trade”, often to get new medication and added attention (Slater 76). Slater points out that it became difficult to tell if the medications were who she actually was or if she was a person outside of them (Slater 76). Later in life, Slater again returns to the reception room of a mental health ward on the premise of attempting David Rosenhan’s famous psychiatric diagnosis experiment (Slater 82-88). But in a place where admission to the ward used to be the primary form of aid, Slater finds that prescription drugs have now become the reigning monarch (Slater 90). In less than 15 minutes, she is diagnosed with psychotic depression and sent home with two prescriptions (Slater 88). Slater repeats this experiment a total of eight times at different locations. Each time, she is given a diagnosis of depression with psychotic features and a grand total of eight-five different medication, all of this while she is perfectly sane and merely stating that she is hearing the word *thud* in her head (Slater …show more content…
They are doing it because they don’t know what else to do. They have not been equipped to deal with this situation and don’t know where to turn. How many of them are merely looking for someone to stroke the wounds on their arms and say, “It’s such a shame. It’s such a shame for you to hurt yourself” (Slater 76). But is that the response they normally receive when they step into a psychiatrist’s office? No, generally they hear, “It’s such a shame. Be sure to take the little pill twice a day or your chemical balance with be thrown off and you will have horrible side-effects. Also, take this one right after a meal or you will vomit.” How many of us would expose our inner world, curled up and vulnerable, to such a cold front? Perhaps if we all put down our pens and got to know the person in front of us, we would be able to see the hurt instead of the diagnosis. Maybe that simple act would give these teens a reason to believe that they can take on the world around them because one person in front of them cared enough to