Childhood Perverted by Psychiatrics

This is how the drugs that the pharmaceutical industry convinced my parents to give me have damaged me. I’m not looking for pity. I’m just looking to show other parents who are being radicalised right now into thinking their children need to be medicated for “mental health” that they usually don’t.

Ever since I was old enough to have a temper tantrum, I would do so. From flipping tables to breaking windows, I was the bully in the classroom and at home. I was taken to the doctors at a young age, prior to my emotional dysregulation, probably around five or six, and given a couple of diagnoses, one of them being ADHD. Instead of realising that it’s normal for a young boy to not want to sit in a classroom for eight hours, especially one of my physical prowess, my psychiatrist convinced my parents that I had a chemical imbalance in my brain which was causing my behavioural struggles.

After many different medications and many different side effects, from hallucinations to mood changes, when I reached around age eight I was given a prescription of Ritalin. I don’t remember how long it took for the Ritalin to give me an adverse reaction, but it was close to a month from what I remember. My mother was driving me and my sister to school and something flipped in my head. I didn’t know where I was or who my family was. All I knew was confusion and terror. I had a pseudo seizure.

My mother of course rushed me to the hospital, where I remember the doctors putting the pulse equipment on my finger only to have another pseudo seizure and have an out-of-body experience, sort of like a dream. I don’t remember much, but some glimpses of the three-month process in the hospital. One of my most distinct memories of that time was sitting in the hospital bed with the IV in my arm. When I looked up, there was a woman looking at me with sadness and fear in her eyes. I didn’t know who she was. So I asked, “Are you my mommy?”

She cried a little harder and replied with “yes,” because she is my mother. What hurts me the most isn’t what I went through or the amount of times I tried to take my own life growing up. What hurts me the most is thinking of the other children who have gone through the same thing as me, and who knows if they made it or not. Who knows if they’re alive today because of what the pharmaceutical industry has done to us and our kids.

I am skipping over an insane amount of medications and traumatic experiences from them for time.

I’m 23 now and the absolute brutality of my childhood is ridiculous. How am I supposed to have any faith in an industry that is damaging people’s minds more than anything but maybe hard drugs? All of my emotional instability disappeared after a year of no pharmaceuticals. Quite an odd coincidence.

What I didn’t add but did imply in the last paragraph is the amount of times I should have died by recklessness and by my own hand. I always hated myself for my actions and just figured I was a broken, useless person. Those suspicions were instigated by the doctors telling me I needed pharmaceuticals in order to fix my “brain imbalance.” It’s just lovely knowing that study is a complete farce as well and it was all for nothing. I wouldn’t take it back though, because I have learned quite a bit with all of my failures. Being spared by God’s hand himself is the only explanation I can give to being alive to this day. Having a wife and a child at my age and practising virtue daily. The failures of my past that should have killed me only made me a more faithful person.

If you are a parent and have fallen for the pharmaceutical lies, don’t beat yourself up. My mother still doesn’t agree with my opinion. I don’t harbour any disdain for her or my father. They raised me as well as they could and did amazing. Please find Christian faith. Put faith in Christ and not in the very convincing, possibly conning, psychiatrists. Pray about everything, but always know the rain falls on the just and the unjust.

May God bless all of his children.