The American Psychiatric Association's
(APA) disease model encourages an internal narration that robs one of
a sense of self-agency
"The person is not encouraged to examine the context of his or her life. What has happened? What might be changed? Or, even more radical: Are there times when suffering is to be embraced?
Erin's story tells of the harm that can result from adopting this type of internal narrative, and the benefit that can come from doing the opposite and examining the context of one's distress. In her case, it was a psychologist who helped her see herself in a new light.
Today, at 31, Erin is engaging, keenly
intelligent, an displays a confidence that, coupled with a genuine
humility, draws people to her. She graduated magna cum laude from a
good university, worked and saved money for six years, got married,
and is no applying to Ph.D programs in psychology.
To look at her life now, it seems she is one of those people to whom things always came easily—school, friends, relationships. But, in fact, she had a difficult childhood. Her parents were divorced when she was 11, the same year her mother was diagnosed with lyphoma, and soon she was having difficulty with her school work and her friends. She struggled with anxiety, irritability, anger and depression. She was told she had ADHD. She resisted that diagnosis, and only took the stimulant medication for a short time (which she found didn't help). During her senior year of high school, her mother's cancer worsened. Two very difficult years followed, with Erin prescribed medications for ADHD, depression, and anxiety, but the drugs never seemed to “fix” anything, or make her feel better. Then, in the fall of her junior year at college, her mother died. Now Erin struggled in every aspect of her life, her anxiety and depression worsening.
Today, she recalls, with a self-depreciating laugh, she can't even begin to count “how many cell phones” she broke in fits of rage. Years after her mother died she remained depressed, and finally she gave in.
There was something “wrong” with her. Maybe not ADHD, but something else. She went to see a therapist, consistently asking him to diagnose her, and “tell me what was wrong with me.” She grew increasingly frustrated when he refused to do so. He wasn't giving her what the DSM said he should, and finally she pressed him further. At last, he responded:
“Do you really want me to tell you what you have?” Relief flooded over her. “Oh thank God,” she thought. “I finally got him to tell me, now I'll know what's wrong with me.” The clinician then gave his diagnosis: “I think you have a broken heart.”
Erin's narrative changed with that one sentence. As she puts it, telling this story 11 years later, “everything shifted.” Instead of thinking that something was WRONG with her, she realised that something had HAPPENED to her. Erin now viewed her past from the perspective of what she had been through, rather than what DSM disorder she had (i.e., what brain disease), and once she did that, a different future opened up for her. To have a broken heart, when you have suffered the losses she had, was to be normal.”
~Robert Whitaker & Lisa Cosgrove's 'Psychiatry Under the Influence'
This follows on into my next blog post 'A Barrier to Social Justice'...coming soon.
To look at her life now, it seems she is one of those people to whom things always came easily—school, friends, relationships. But, in fact, she had a difficult childhood. Her parents were divorced when she was 11, the same year her mother was diagnosed with lyphoma, and soon she was having difficulty with her school work and her friends. She struggled with anxiety, irritability, anger and depression. She was told she had ADHD. She resisted that diagnosis, and only took the stimulant medication for a short time (which she found didn't help). During her senior year of high school, her mother's cancer worsened. Two very difficult years followed, with Erin prescribed medications for ADHD, depression, and anxiety, but the drugs never seemed to “fix” anything, or make her feel better. Then, in the fall of her junior year at college, her mother died. Now Erin struggled in every aspect of her life, her anxiety and depression worsening.
Today, she recalls, with a self-depreciating laugh, she can't even begin to count “how many cell phones” she broke in fits of rage. Years after her mother died she remained depressed, and finally she gave in.
There was something “wrong” with her. Maybe not ADHD, but something else. She went to see a therapist, consistently asking him to diagnose her, and “tell me what was wrong with me.” She grew increasingly frustrated when he refused to do so. He wasn't giving her what the DSM said he should, and finally she pressed him further. At last, he responded:
“Do you really want me to tell you what you have?” Relief flooded over her. “Oh thank God,” she thought. “I finally got him to tell me, now I'll know what's wrong with me.” The clinician then gave his diagnosis: “I think you have a broken heart.”
Erin's narrative changed with that one sentence. As she puts it, telling this story 11 years later, “everything shifted.” Instead of thinking that something was WRONG with her, she realised that something had HAPPENED to her. Erin now viewed her past from the perspective of what she had been through, rather than what DSM disorder she had (i.e., what brain disease), and once she did that, a different future opened up for her. To have a broken heart, when you have suffered the losses she had, was to be normal.”
~Robert Whitaker & Lisa Cosgrove's 'Psychiatry Under the Influence'
This follows on into my next blog post 'A Barrier to Social Justice'...coming soon.
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