Did the Editors of the DSM Graduate Kindergarten?

Thank you Jenny Westberg for this post.

STATEMENT 2: “[T]he relative contributions of shared and distinct factors in the development and perpetuation of [other conditions which ARE deemed 'mental disorders'] remain insufficiently understood.”

???

Also on the same page:

“diageoses”
“howver”
“anorexia nervos”
“[these] disorder are”
“physical health psychosocial functioning” (missing comma)

What an embarrassment. If you were writing what’s meant to be an authoritative text, wouldn’t you proofread it? Or have someone else proofread it? Or give it a cursory once-over? At least the DSM-IV didn’t read like a kindergartner’s blog. Obviously they don’t believe what they’re saying enough to care about getting it right – NOT a good quality in people who can give you a lifelong label…or lock you up.

Page 329, by the way. And I wasn’t even trying.

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Mediocrity and Mental Masturbation

I want life to make sense all the time, in all ways.

I want everything to be honest and synthesized, direct and revealed.

I want life to scream and not to whisper

out of my soul

even though whispers soothe me more than screams

at first.

I need time to work up to things.

I’m not a great person, I realize.

I channel a great muse from time to time,

but as a person I’m mediocre, bordering on inferior.

I don’t want to have to negotiate my life,

and I don’t feel I should have to.

I want it handed to me.

See?

I’m average.

I don’t go out and get it,

I let it come to me.

And then I don’t scream in glorious gratitude,

I just whisper, “Thank you,”

I just get by

I hardly go beyond that.

I’m just one of the masses,

I’m just another partially screwed up person,

with a dash of angel

and a scoop of vanilla

not even on the rocks

but sometimes with Tobasco, on lucky days.

I dream as much and as little as anyone,

I squeeze between the cracks.

There’s hardly room for me in this world,

but when I find a crack,

I squeeze myself into it if I can.

I’m no heroine, no great person.

I’m really not.

And moreover I don’t want to be.

I want to be average.

Average height, average weight,

I’ll take an extra point above the mean in intelligence,

just one,

because I get off on that

because I’m a mental masturbator

and that’s the only thing I really live for:

being one point above the mode in smarts (not even very much).

Beyond that I’m just another brick in the wall,

leaf on the tree,

dent in the cement,

and learning to be okay with that,

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Political Savvy and Psychiatric Survivors

At the risk of sounding politically naïve or idealistic, I must say that those without political sharpness are holding the most powerful stories, and our salvation lies in their liberation.
We are coming upon a time where even the least sophisticated and lowest status individuals can have a voice, and the longer a voice is silenced, the stronger it becomes when it is finally set free.

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Pets on Prozac: The dark side of animal emotions

“More than 70 million dogs in the US are medicated,” Braitman says, and the drugs they’re on are the ones we’re on — the same anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds, anti-psychotics. Primates are often on the same birth control. ://nypost.com/2014/07/05/why-your-pet-might-be-mentally-ill/
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Do You Have it Together? Or Are You Losing It?

Those who have “it” together are generally “losing it” as well.

Cohesion and falling apart seem to be two sides of the same coin; I can’t have one without the other, for if I live in fear of losing it, it instantly starts to slip through my fingers and if I shy away from or resist cohesion, things often come together in some magical way I never could have predicted.

I’m up at 4 AM, writing in my notebook, putting myself back together, or what feels like it. Yet I look less and less together as the moments tick by. I become more and more a madwoman, bewitched, entranced by words coming to her from some other world, lost in writing down the voices she hears that no one else can hear right now, alone at the kitchen table, yet connected to all things at a time that seems to transcend time and place: 4 AM.

I have no worries at this moment and the clouds clear, revealing to me that having it together and letting it fall apart go hand in hand. http://ift.tt/1mEF2CE
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your good never rejects you

So cool Karen Korn.
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Why You Can’t Get Informed Consent From a Doctor – Mad In America

Rereading and appreciating this article I wrote back in March. http://ift.tt/1n7Vmwg
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