Posted on by karin.jervert

Everyone’s Afraid of an Angry Woman: Honoring Sinéad O’Connor

There is one thing about having been a “delinquent” teen, or a “freak” as we called ourselves, in the chaos of the early 90s that really makes it seem like we were part of something special—a kind of revolution. At the very least, this time was a powerful shift in youth culture. The most amazing part of that time for me was being accompanied through my tumultuous youth by some powerful, strange, and beautiful musicians. For that I always felt very lucky. I know each era has its musical heroes, but something was really special about ’90s music, I think. And as I’ve written about before, music has been an immensely important part of my life and my healing.

The ‘90s were chock-full of brave women artists especially. But, Sinéad O’Connor, or Shuhada’ Sadaqat (the name she adopted after converting to Islam in 2018), may have been the most bold, the most unique of all the musicians of that time. She was a woman from Dublin who took on the Pope on night time television, for goodness’ sake.

Click here to read the full article on Mad in America.

Posted on by karin.jervert

Lost Poetry: Psychiatry and Creativity

As a poet, I think the most valuable thing we can lose in this life is a poem. A poem that comes from our deepest, most authentic self. As a person with lived experience of mental distress and involuntary psychiatric treatment, I know the most powerful of these poems can live and be lost in what some people call ‘madness’.

There are times in which a poem comes to a poet and it’s light and slippery enough that it is easily lost in the bustle of life. Losing this kind of poem is not so much a tragedy. But the poems I’m speaking of are the ones not so easily lost, the ones connected to who we are. When these are lost, a piece of the poet themselves is lost, too. This is the kind of poem that can be destroyed when psychiatry treats a poet, an artist, a musician, without reverence and honor for their creativity and their diversity of mind.

I want to take a moment to honor the artwork, the songs, the paintings and the poems of the mad artists that are lost—deep in a wilderness of psychiatry’s careless disregard for the truth every poet knows—that a poem can be like a bone in one’s body, a part of a person that can sustain their life, make meaning and bring joy and healing.

I lost a poem once, and I mourned it for many years. But, one day my grief became a map, and with it I found my way back to the ghost of it and I brought it back.

Read the entire article on madinamerica.com

Posted on by karin.jervert

Loss, Grief, and Betrayal: Psychiatric Survivors Reflect on the Impact of New Serotonin Study

By Karin Jervert and Marnie Wedlake

Loss, grief, and a sense of betrayal are felt deeply by many who have been affected by the myth of the chemical imbalance—a myth given so much attention over so many decades that it became the most pervasive way we understood emotional suffering. The myth of the chemical imbalance became so powerful that it overcame the truths of the human condition itself.

With the recent publication of the Moncrieff et al study, which reviewed decades of research, the chemical imbalance myth was shown to have no support in scientific evidence. The theory of a chemical imbalance is a myth, and has always been a myth.

As psychiatric survivors, we—Karin Jervert and Marnie Wedlake—were inspired by the paper and the attention it gained. Thinking about all those who are now realizing they have been lied to by doctors, family, and friends, we took some time to look back on what it felt like when we came to that realization. We hope it will help those going through the endless layers of anger, grief, and loss after learning of this betrayal. 

Click here to read the entire article on Mad in America.

Posted on by karin.jervert

The Song of Psychiatry: The Impact of Language

As a young woman, I believed the story I was told and internalized the language of the psychiatric system. The story it told, the song it sang, was that I was broken, that I had a disease, and that I had no other choice besides medication if I wanted to survive in the world I lived in—the white, patriarchal, imperialist, and commodity-obsessed culture I existed in. But the truth is that this story—a deceptive lullaby—put me so deep into the numbness of sleep, it nearly killed me.

These days, I find myself wondering what particular details of this story made it such a destructive force in my life? Some find this story helpful, even healing. So what made psychiatry’s attempt to “save me,” the language they used, very nearly destroy me instead?

Why did this story become the only thing standing between me and healing?

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Posted on by karin.jervert

What We Have Always Known but Psychiatry Forgot

When I came off my last medication, my psychiatrist said to me, “You will get sick again.”

Psychiatry has always been sure of one thing about me: that I would never recover from bipolar disorder. I was asked to accept that I was sick for life and to act accordingly. This meant any thoughts I had away from this “fact” should be seen as a symptom and dangerous thoughts to allow myself to believe. I was also told to acquiesce my healing and recovery to the power of psychiatry. I could have no power to heal myself because I was no doctor. I was not capable of understanding how to move towards health, not only because my judgement could not be trusted, but because the only answer to a “broken brain” was what only they claimed to understand fully—psychiatric drugs.

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Posted on by karin.jervert

Radical Acts of Community Healing and Self-Love

One thing has remained true for me as I’ve reflected on my journey into and out of the psychiatric system. My society—the education system, culture, economy and government that I existed within as a young woman—relied on me to internalize blame for all the ways it had failed me. The unfortunate, and often dangerous, “safety” net for the emotional repercussions of this toxic arrangement was psychiatry. It was psychiatry that then dug deep to nurture this seed of self-blame by planting the identity of the “mental patient.”

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Posted on by karin.jervert

Burning Down the House of Psychiatry During COVID

If there was ever a time to re-evaluate how we as a society deal with human suffering, I assure you, it is now. The particular nature of a pandemic’s mental health effects strains every false narrative and misguided practice of psychiatry. Especially the practice of medicalizing the very human reactions of severe depression and anxiety in response to isolation, deprivation, and suffering, as well as the claim that this response is indicative of chronic psychological disorders.

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Posted on by karin.jervert

Surviving the Bipolar Label

I am a woman who fully identified with the label bipolar for almost 20 years and, according to psychiatry, rightfully earned it with four involuntary hospitalizations. Early on, I was given no other language besides brain disease and unbalanced chemistry with which to understand the altered states and despair I experienced. When I look back honestly on the very recent past, I see that I used the identity of bipolar like a brace around my hard-to-manage mind, to hold it still, to teach it where it could and could not go—where I could expect it to be at any given moment. Even what I could expect from myself and my life.

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Posted on by karin.jervert

De-Weaponizing Empathy

As published in Mad in America

I am not immune to what I call weaponized empathy, which I see as the pure intention of compassion for another tainted with aggression around eradicating pain, pain that could be a source of growth for the sufferer if allowed to arise and pass away without force. I have shut down the suffering of those I love even as a survivor of the particularly lethal form of weaponized empathy that exists in psychiatry.

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