I think the worst feeling in the world, especially when you’re in your early 20s and going through something like this, which I did also, Linda, is the sense of being alone in it. There’s no one to trust, no one to turn to and this darkness keeps encroaching. Thank you for putting this out. If nothing else, I hope people in the same situation know that they are not the only ones who have experienced this. Sometimes, you have to pull yourself out of the pit. But God, it takes so much ego strength to do that. And a 23-year-old often isn’t there yet.
So glad you are sharing this. There are a lot of Dr. Teemis's out there and what does a terrified 23 year old know? I hope someone who's having suspicions about their doctor reads this.
I have quite a few stories of inappropriate things male doctors did during exams when I was young, and I did not allow myself to listen to my gut. I talk to women about this now.
"First do no harm"? I picture a lot of doctors taking the oath with fingers crossed behind their backs.
Patients: "First don't blindly trust any doctor".
Linda, your story is very sad. Many people have suffered at the hands of a doctor--a person is at the most vulnerable when seeking medical care. Being exploited or abused, physically, psychologically, emotionally is inexcusable. Many miles of your journey should never have had to be navigated. Shame on the doctor.
That is such a beautiful text. I see so many similarities with my experience. We all go through the same questions, the same fears, the same wandering. We put so much responsibility on the shoulders of our practitioners. We ask them to be our saviors. We almost want to get down on our knees and say: relieve me.
We swallow the treatments without flinching. We accept the diagnosis, pulled straight from the DSM-5. We don't question anything, because they know. We let them control us because we have become patients. The sick ones.
"As my fear increased, my world narrowed." That is so true, and nobody tells us that the fear increases because the world narrows. The more we retreat, the more we stay inside, the more the fear increases. Withdrawal heals nothing. Flight only reinforces the belief that the fear is real. No practitioner ever explains this. We are told to meditate, to breathe, to exercise. You just want to slap them. One day a therapist told me "I don't understand why you are so idle." I understood that I needed to find another one.
I wish so much that, when we first ask for help, someone would explain how the brain works, how thoughts work, the why and the how. Why the brain is in alarm mode, neuroplasticity, the power of our thoughts, for better or for worse. But it's always the same speech: stress, a chemical imbalance. Nobody ever explained to me that to get through it, I had to do what anxiety prevented me from doing, and stop doing what it pushed me toward. The solution was so simple, but putting it into practice so hard. Nobody, until the therapist who pulled me out of that hell.
I am so sorry you had such a terrifying experience with your psychiatrist. You must have felt so lonely and hopeless. Most practitioners genuinely want to help, but too often they are simply missing the point. Many rely on outdated practices and old concepts, and have nothing else to offer but platitudes and molecules. It often falls on us to take charge of our own recovery and find help elsewhere: books, forums, posts like yours.
Marc, thank you so much for the thoughtful response. I feel the same! In six years, I had several therapists, because they were interns and would leave to finish schooling, etc. During that time, not one of them even said the word "anxiety!" I thought my brain had been invaded by an alien being or something! They were offering "talk therapy," with me constantly going over my childhood, ad nauseam. I got worse and worse, even without what the psychiatrist did. It wasn't until I discovered a book at the library that was written by an expert in anxiety disorders that I gained insight and began to put in the work that I needed to recover. I became a therapist just to help others not have to endure the same treatment, but I soon discovered that not everyone heals "just like I did." Go figure!
Yes, my first therapists only went into my childhood over and over, and it didn't help. I think childhood serves as an explanation, not a cure. If your parents neglect you — affection, reassurance, safety — it gets wired into your brain and biases your emotional system. Then some situation in the present reactivates that old wound and creates disproportionate suffering and anxiety.
My therapist called it traumatic memory reactivation. Once I understood that, I could recognize it happening: "This is a traumatic memory reactivation," and stop the loop right there.
"but I soon discovered that not everyone heals just like I did."
Do you mean that when you gave patients the same tools that helped you, the results weren't the same?
I think we get depressed or anxious because we keep repeating a story that isn't true: "I'm worthless, I'm fragile, I'm a failure." To get better, you have to replace it with another story, a more positive one. The secret is believing it. It doesn't matter if the story is literally true. You just need to believe it strongly enough to replace the old toxic version. Maybe those who didn't get better didn't believe in the tool ?
IFS is a good example. I don't know if the model is scientifically right, but it speaks to me. I can understand it, apply it to my own story, and it works. Reassuring my child part during a traumatic memory reactivation is far better than telling myself I'm crazy and too reactive.
So tools only matter if you believe they work and think they make sense for you. Placebo? Maybe. What matters is that it works.
What I ended up thinking about people who didn't seem to get better using these tools you are writing about and the ones I also used to get well, is that some people come to therapy because they are suffering, but maybe not very much. They can still go to work; they can still go shopping; meet up with friends; take vacations, etc. So, when a "tool" doesn't help right away or takes too long to help, they give up on it. I have not heard of traumatic memory activation, which I find extremely interesting. It took me a long time to recognize when that is happening to me (I think of it as being triggered). It is so helpful to remind ourselves of what's really going on so we don't add to the negative emotions and make ourselves feel worse. You are so thoughtful about all of this, Marc. I just subscribed to you.
I often share with friends what helped me, what my journey taught me. Most of the time they listen, nod, and continue on the same path with the same results. Your insight reframes that for me: maybe they just don't suffer enough yet.
Habits are strong. Change takes real effort. And most people won't make that effort until the pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of changing.
Same for me. Before my breakdown, I had been anxious my whole life. Social anxiety, health anxiety, performance anxiety. But none of it stopped me from functioning. They were a nuisance, pulling the ropes sometimes, but never rock bottom.
GAD was the rock bottom I needed to finally attack the problem head on.
Severe anxiety can make people dependent on any perceived authority figure, even when the care they receive is confusing or harmful. When symptoms are intense and persistent, the focus can shift from recovery to basic survival, which can narrow judgment and options. Experiences like this highlight how critical safe, ethical treatment relationships are during periods of psychological downfall. Recovery stories that include both deterioration and rebuilding tend to resonate because they reflect the uneven reality of long-term mental health trajectories. The capacity to rebuild meaning after profound destabilization is often a defining part of later resilience.
I really relate to this. I saw my recovery as a two steps forward, one step back type of trajectory. Authority figures for me were anyone I thought "above" me, and that was most everyone else.
I think the worst feeling in the world, especially when you’re in your early 20s and going through something like this, which I did also, Linda, is the sense of being alone in it. There’s no one to trust, no one to turn to and this darkness keeps encroaching. Thank you for putting this out. If nothing else, I hope people in the same situation know that they are not the only ones who have experienced this. Sometimes, you have to pull yourself out of the pit. But God, it takes so much ego strength to do that. And a 23-year-old often isn’t there yet.
I sure wasn't! Thanks, Nancy. I so appreciate you.
So glad you are sharing this. There are a lot of Dr. Teemis's out there and what does a terrified 23 year old know? I hope someone who's having suspicions about their doctor reads this.
I have quite a few stories of inappropriate things male doctors did during exams when I was young, and I did not allow myself to listen to my gut. I talk to women about this now.
You’re not alone!
"First do no harm"? I picture a lot of doctors taking the oath with fingers crossed behind their backs.
Patients: "First don't blindly trust any doctor".
Linda, your story is very sad. Many people have suffered at the hands of a doctor--a person is at the most vulnerable when seeking medical care. Being exploited or abused, physically, psychologically, emotionally is inexcusable. Many miles of your journey should never have had to be navigated. Shame on the doctor.
Thanks, Lucinda. It really does help to get validation. I'm not crazy...they are!
That is such a beautiful text. I see so many similarities with my experience. We all go through the same questions, the same fears, the same wandering. We put so much responsibility on the shoulders of our practitioners. We ask them to be our saviors. We almost want to get down on our knees and say: relieve me.
We swallow the treatments without flinching. We accept the diagnosis, pulled straight from the DSM-5. We don't question anything, because they know. We let them control us because we have become patients. The sick ones.
"As my fear increased, my world narrowed." That is so true, and nobody tells us that the fear increases because the world narrows. The more we retreat, the more we stay inside, the more the fear increases. Withdrawal heals nothing. Flight only reinforces the belief that the fear is real. No practitioner ever explains this. We are told to meditate, to breathe, to exercise. You just want to slap them. One day a therapist told me "I don't understand why you are so idle." I understood that I needed to find another one.
I wish so much that, when we first ask for help, someone would explain how the brain works, how thoughts work, the why and the how. Why the brain is in alarm mode, neuroplasticity, the power of our thoughts, for better or for worse. But it's always the same speech: stress, a chemical imbalance. Nobody ever explained to me that to get through it, I had to do what anxiety prevented me from doing, and stop doing what it pushed me toward. The solution was so simple, but putting it into practice so hard. Nobody, until the therapist who pulled me out of that hell.
I am so sorry you had such a terrifying experience with your psychiatrist. You must have felt so lonely and hopeless. Most practitioners genuinely want to help, but too often they are simply missing the point. Many rely on outdated practices and old concepts, and have nothing else to offer but platitudes and molecules. It often falls on us to take charge of our own recovery and find help elsewhere: books, forums, posts like yours.
Marc, thank you so much for the thoughtful response. I feel the same! In six years, I had several therapists, because they were interns and would leave to finish schooling, etc. During that time, not one of them even said the word "anxiety!" I thought my brain had been invaded by an alien being or something! They were offering "talk therapy," with me constantly going over my childhood, ad nauseam. I got worse and worse, even without what the psychiatrist did. It wasn't until I discovered a book at the library that was written by an expert in anxiety disorders that I gained insight and began to put in the work that I needed to recover. I became a therapist just to help others not have to endure the same treatment, but I soon discovered that not everyone heals "just like I did." Go figure!
Yes, my first therapists only went into my childhood over and over, and it didn't help. I think childhood serves as an explanation, not a cure. If your parents neglect you — affection, reassurance, safety — it gets wired into your brain and biases your emotional system. Then some situation in the present reactivates that old wound and creates disproportionate suffering and anxiety.
My therapist called it traumatic memory reactivation. Once I understood that, I could recognize it happening: "This is a traumatic memory reactivation," and stop the loop right there.
"but I soon discovered that not everyone heals just like I did."
Do you mean that when you gave patients the same tools that helped you, the results weren't the same?
I think we get depressed or anxious because we keep repeating a story that isn't true: "I'm worthless, I'm fragile, I'm a failure." To get better, you have to replace it with another story, a more positive one. The secret is believing it. It doesn't matter if the story is literally true. You just need to believe it strongly enough to replace the old toxic version. Maybe those who didn't get better didn't believe in the tool ?
IFS is a good example. I don't know if the model is scientifically right, but it speaks to me. I can understand it, apply it to my own story, and it works. Reassuring my child part during a traumatic memory reactivation is far better than telling myself I'm crazy and too reactive.
So tools only matter if you believe they work and think they make sense for you. Placebo? Maybe. What matters is that it works.
What I ended up thinking about people who didn't seem to get better using these tools you are writing about and the ones I also used to get well, is that some people come to therapy because they are suffering, but maybe not very much. They can still go to work; they can still go shopping; meet up with friends; take vacations, etc. So, when a "tool" doesn't help right away or takes too long to help, they give up on it. I have not heard of traumatic memory activation, which I find extremely interesting. It took me a long time to recognize when that is happening to me (I think of it as being triggered). It is so helpful to remind ourselves of what's really going on so we don't add to the negative emotions and make ourselves feel worse. You are so thoughtful about all of this, Marc. I just subscribed to you.
That's a great point, and it made me think.
I often share with friends what helped me, what my journey taught me. Most of the time they listen, nod, and continue on the same path with the same results. Your insight reframes that for me: maybe they just don't suffer enough yet.
Habits are strong. Change takes real effort. And most people won't make that effort until the pain of staying the same becomes greater than the pain of changing.
Same for me. Before my breakdown, I had been anxious my whole life. Social anxiety, health anxiety, performance anxiety. But none of it stopped me from functioning. They were a nuisance, pulling the ropes sometimes, but never rock bottom.
GAD was the rock bottom I needed to finally attack the problem head on.
Thanks for subscribing :)
Severe anxiety can make people dependent on any perceived authority figure, even when the care they receive is confusing or harmful. When symptoms are intense and persistent, the focus can shift from recovery to basic survival, which can narrow judgment and options. Experiences like this highlight how critical safe, ethical treatment relationships are during periods of psychological downfall. Recovery stories that include both deterioration and rebuilding tend to resonate because they reflect the uneven reality of long-term mental health trajectories. The capacity to rebuild meaning after profound destabilization is often a defining part of later resilience.
I really relate to this. I saw my recovery as a two steps forward, one step back type of trajectory. Authority figures for me were anyone I thought "above" me, and that was most everyone else.