We treat depression by trying different drugs until we find one that works—a highly imprecise approach to treating the most sophisticated of organs, the brain.
Alexia had been in-and-out of intensive psychiatric therapy for nearly two decades by the time we met. She suffered from bipolar disorder, which meant that she cycled between explosions of boundless energy and black holes of suicidal despair. Despair brought her to our unit.
Her long chart chronicled how previous psychiatrists had emptied the armory: antidepressants, antipsychotics, anticonvulsants, mood stabilizers, group and intensive inpatient therapy, psychotherapy, dialectic and cognitive behavioral therapy. Nothing had a lasting effect
Olly Alexander opened up to The Guardian‘s Owen Jones, a noted gay columnist and political activist, about his struggle with depression and anxiety. In the article, Alexander shared experiences that likely mirror those of many gay men and LGBT individuals. From childhood bullying to a desire to be anything but gay, he uses these experiences to highlight the inadequate mental health services available.
Although he is currently in private treatment, Alexander wanted to address the stigma attached to mental illness, its discussion, and its availability. With cuts to NHS (National Health Service) under Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron, Alexander wanted to lend his voice to an issue that needs attention.
Of all the patients I have seen in my 40 years as a psychoanalyst, Daniel was the strangest. He was the most inaccessible, inwardly tormented and infuriating man I have ever known, and yet he stayed in therapy with me for over a decade, calling faithfully every week — he insisted that his work schedule precluded coming in person — even though he spent many of those sessions in silence or addressed me as if I were inanimate. He drove me crazy, he haunted me and he moved me, sometimes all in the same session.
Inside Nebraska Medical Center, Nolan Sensintaffar, 5, drives his red Mini Coop down the hospital halls. In his passenger seat sits a plastic box full of instruments. It’s certainly not the normal hospital picture, but this young patient is on his way to therapy. More specifically, he is on his way to music therapy, to help with mental health.
Alongside clinical depression, it is also one of the most common conditions afflicting the artists who compose the long lineage ofthe relationship between creativity and mental illness. Among them was the great poet Robert Lowell (March 1, 1917–September 12, 1977), whose 1947 Pulitzer Prize made him one of the youngest recipients of the coveted accolade. The feat was followed by one of the most severe bipolar episodes in a lifetime with the disease, which first began bedeviling young Lowell decades before Bipolar Disorder was included in the third edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders and even before its progenitor, the term manic-depressive reaction, was coined in the early 1950s. With his uncommon poetic potency and mastery of language, Lowell has provided what is perhaps the most piercing account of what it’s like to live with this tragically common and woefully disorienting mental health disease.
I first began experiencing anxiety and depression at the age of 14 after being bullied at school for years. While at first it would come and go, anxiety and depression eventually became a constant presence in my life. Mental health issues were like a perpetual cough that eventually starts to get better, only to come back worse than before. Only unlike a cough, where usually I am still able to function, anxiety and depression hits like a ton of bricks and even the idea of getting out of bed seems to be a goal that gets to be less and less attainable. As time passed, more and more of my days started to be spent paralyzed by endless thoughts of regrets of the past and worries for the future.
When I brought my little corgi, Buddy, home in November of 2014, I didn’t realize at the time how much he would truly change my life. But it didn’t happen right away. Once the new puppy excitement went away, the anxiety and depression crept back as it always had. I woke up one morning and felt those familiar feelings again; the weight on my shoulders, the nausea in my stomach, the feelings of hopelessness and worry. I knew that the anxiety and depression had come back hard and felt depleted. I didn’t want to get out of bed. It felt impossible. I turned to pull the covers back over my head and give up for the day. What I always did. That’s when I came face to face with animal therapy and Buddy.
This letter is overdue. I’m almost 40 years old now, but my mom introduced me to your music when I was 10. As a child, I suffered from severe vertigo and vomiting and mental health challenges. That led to depression and anxiety so bad, I’m amazed I’m alive today. I spent the majority of my young life in my bed sick and scared, waiting for the room to stop spinning and for my stomach to calm down. Most days, I would pray God would finally decide I had suffered enough and give me the heart attack I so desperately wanted.
Tinnitus is an incurable condition which can lead to depression,anxiety and suicidal thinking. Following deputy First Minister Martin McGuinness’ admission that he has suffered from the ailment, Laurence White talks to two women about how they deal with the constant background noise and work on mental health, resiliency and wellness skills.
