She (my psychologist) didn’t like me, and I don’t know why
I guess it’s not okay to wish to die

I was told by society I should speak to someone when I feel this way
But this lady engaged in irreverent responses like it’s never okay

She looked at me like I am bad
And scribbled down “crazy girl who is mad”

She said this word “resilience” lots
But didn’t work to understand my past nor connect the dots

I hear some people get trauma therapy
But not people like me

Instead they call me personality disordered because I cry at their interpretations and often disagree

So they say my personality isn’t right because I am sad
I think they’d call it trauma if I showed antidepressants made me glad

I don’t understand why the world thinks so highly of psychology and psychiatry
The field has only given me more anxiety

How do I demonstrate that that I am sane?
My friend tells me often to not complain

I guess oppression is never to be spoken of
Just have radical acceptance like Marsha Linehan encourages and only portray love

Honestly, I’d like to give a middle finger to DBT
And then burn that skills book and be refunded for my sessions with ridiculous fees

Really, Linehan, your treatment has done more harm than good
I’d have the world know this if I could

I don’t see a difference between this system and prison
Patient or prisoner, it’s the same definition

May one day this field start treating people like human beings once and for all

I think it’s beginning to happen because just yesterday, I watched the kingdom of chemical imbalance finally fall

****

Back to Poetry Gallery

***

Mad in America hosts blogs by a diverse group of writers. These posts are designed to serve as a public forum for a discussion—broadly speaking—of psychiatry and its treatments. The opinions expressed are the writers’ own.



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