When the Help Becomes Part of the Problem
Mad in America
MAY 10, 2024
M y first encounter with the psychiatric system in America was at the age of 18. I spent my days crying — if not crying, I was thinking about how my presence in space and time was inherently burdening others. Not to mention, I was failing all my classes, and my GPA for my first semester of college was a measly.5 on the 4.0 scale. I was a failure. The breaking point was my 20th call to the national suicide hotline in three months; I had told the woman, while I sobbed, that I felt like a burden to
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