Antipsychotics and Innercept: Partners in Fornication

The main, or one of, the reasons I despise Innercept is the culture of prescription drug use.

Ask any resident what medication they are taking. They are on a cocktail of different drugs: uppers, downers, in betweeners, antidepressants, antipsychotics, and the like. The common demoninator is the antipsychotic. Risperdal, Seroquel, abilify, invega, geodon, zyprexa. One of those.

Why do people go to Innercept? Why, a variety of reasons. These medications are used mainly for bipolar disorder or psychotic disorders. Most people at Innercept aren't there for these reasons. A lot of people are. But not most people who take these medications at Innercept.

Dr. Ulrich prescribes them for depression or general mood flattening. He read an article one day in People magazine about how sometimes, atypical antipsychotics work for depression. He decided to build his life around that idea by incorporating it strongly into his treatment center.

I know how these drugs work. They lessen the dopamine synaptic response in most places of the brain. In some rare places, there may not be enough. In these places, they increase it just a smidge. They also increase the synaptic response of a neural transmitter responsible for general feelings of malease.

So basically what it boils down to is, in some patients, who have extreme, suicidal, dark, dreary, horrible, homicidal moods, it will lighten it up a bit, because they have severe lack of dopamine. In normal patients, whose depression is caused by general but non-sinister dreary bad moods, it worsens it severely.

When these patients say they are not happy, Dr. Ulrich chalkens it up to the underlying condition and them not knowing there own bodies. On the outside, he sees they are not acting out as much, and thinks it must be do to less dark intrusive thoughts.

Another thing Dr. Ulrich believes is that antipsychotics aid the brain and produce a general state of well-being amongst the troubled. This is evident in the way it improves psychosis. In general, it improves thought clarity, which is an all around bonus, even in those who don't have unclear thoughts to begin with. He also believes prescription medication aids with the ability to control your own thoughts, as in medication. He also believes it improves the ability to communicate properly.

These are things my guides say he believes subconsciously. Consciously, he just says, he notices a general improvement in patients who take these medications, based on their ability to hold a conversation and not have thoughts that are all over the place.

Dr. Ulrich believes that if you come to Innercept, you should be on an antipsychotic. He looks down upon the patients who aren't on antipsychotics.

Antipsychotics worsen a whole host of conditions, including Parkinson's and other dopamine related issues like tourette's syndrome. They worsen ADD too, suicidal thinking when it is less severe, OCD, and Asperger's.

That's why some people might say, Innercept should go out of business.

My Life in Treatment: A Brief History (part 3)

More history of treatment...

I was starting to get too skinny. So I went to the store and bought a gallon of ice cream, and ate some for breakfast. Then I would go to the gym and run six miles, working it all off, defeating the purpose. Damn that pointless ice cream eating!

I went on a home pass in the spring, and made the mistake of getting drunk off my ass on the way back. I mean, I didn’t black out or puke or anything, but I walked into the transition house and there was a process group going on (process groups are where you process house/interpersonal issues)! So fuck, I had to sit down. And they could smell it. They were sending me to stable, and so I said “by the time I’m sober I’ll be dead!” What a stupid thing to say. What I meant was, I wasn’t looking forward to the time when I was sober because at that current moment I was numb to what was going on, but when I was sober again I’d have to face reality. That was all I meant. But they had to take me to the hospital and run tests to make sure I hadn’t taken anything to kill myself, because they take these kind of comments very seriously. So they took me to the hospital (not the psych ward) and ran tests, then I spent the next two days at stable.

A week later, I was bored. Like, so bored I could kill someone. I had no money, I couldn’t afford cough syrup or even a simple alcoholic beverage. I wandered the house aimlessly, and in the laundry room I found some change - enough to buy an alcoholic beverage. And it wasn’t like I was stealing from anyone, because it was sitting in a public room, unclaimed.

I went to the nearest grocery store, bought one of those disgustingly sweet 12% alcohol beverages that come in a big can, drank it in the restroom. Then I wondered the streets, feeling happy, desperate for fun. I knew where a guy from aftercare lived, so I went to his apartment. He wasn’t there. I did something bad there, in that apartment complex. Something illegal, something that could be traced back to me and right now there might be a warrant for my arrest in Idaho. Seriously, I still worry about this.

It is because of this that I no longer drink. And I will no longer drink. Ever again. Because I like to think of myself as a person who has morals and what I did goes against my morals. And because I think people would respect me more if I didn’t drink. I think people who don’t drink are in general respected more than people who do, and that this would be especially true for me, due to the nature of the things I do when I drink.

The police showed up, and asked me something about me drinking. I said, “I haven’t been drinking.” He said, “You’re holding a beer can.” I looked down at the can. “Hmm. So I am.” I think what happened next was I gave him my name, and I was too drunk to think to give him a fake one, and he turned around to run my name and I bolted. I was wearing flip-flops, but I ran anyway. I kept turning around but he wasn’t following me. I slowed back down to a walk. There were three guys ahead of me, and they kept turning around and looking back at me. I was walking faster than they were, since I have a naturally quick stride, so everytime they looked back I was closer to them. Then I caught up with them and started talking to them, Then I started hanging out with them and went to their place. Stuff happened.

I left with one of the guys and smoked meth with him in his garage. Yes, METH! It really wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s the same thing as Adderall, it’s like taking Adderall after you haven’t taken it for awhile. Seriously, I’ve gotten just as high off of Adderall, and that was taking it under a doctor’s supervision at the prescribed dose. We stayed up all night, talked a lot, I fidgeted, it mainly made me bite my lower lip constantly. Biting your lower lip is a total tweak. I think some girls do it to be sexy. It might be sexy to guys who are into tweaker girls.

The next morning the guy dropped me off at Albertson’s because he had to do something and he was going to come back and then we were probably going to do some more drugs, but it was taking a long time and I got tired of waiting, so I called transition, let slip where I was, they picked me up and took me to stable. At some point I let slip that I tried meth, and that’s when they decided to move me from “transition” to “intensive transition.”

Intensive transition is a relatively new part of the program where the sort of strange, slightly “off” people go. I mean, that’s not the definition of it, but that’s the kind of people who go there. If you look at the cast of people who have resided in the lovely intensive transition house, it’s either been people who were off or guys who were aggressive. It’s for people who need “a little bit more attention.” The only person who’s lived here for the entire duration of the time I’ve lived here is Julia, a girl with Asperger’s. Most people find her really annoying but I am generally tolerant of annoying people, though we have had our ups and downs. In the past I’ve joked that if I had kids I would name them Klonopin and Zyprexa, two names of medications, because they are cool names. Julia told me she hoped that if I ever got pregnant I had a miscarriage or an abortion. I couldn’t stop laughing because that was such a mean thing to say.

But back to last summer. I became perpetually manic. I was trapped inside my own head, thinking about things over and over and laughing. I would rehash things, and when I rehash things it looks like I’m talking to myself. But I don’t hallucinate. This is the time that my parents will tell you I was so far gone it was a miracle I came back. This, I would like to say with emphasis, is a load of bull. My dad will tell you, “we tried several things and finally she came back when we switched her meds from Geodon to Invega.” No, actually, no. That was the first and only thing they tried, and it worked. It just took awhile because they made the switch very slowly. If you want to know how far gone I wasn’t, they didn’t even take me off Adderall or my antidepressant, because the doctor didn’t deem it necessary. That’s how far gone I wasn’t.

So I’ve been in intensive transiton ever since last summer. It pisses me off because other people make repeated mistakes and they don’t move them to intensive transition. Right now, I’m just here until I have 20 hours a week of volunteering or work or school, and then I’ll be moved to aftercare.

And I’m reminded of why I decided to write a history of my treatment to begin with. We have a new intensive transition/ aftercare coordinator named Lea. Let’s just say she is widely disliked. There’s another girl here named Caitlin who was in aftercare who moved into intensive transition after messing up. Lea told Caitlin that the other residents of intensive transition, including myself, look up to Caitlin because she has been to aftercare, and that Caitlin was setting a bad example by smoking. I don’t look up to Caitlin, I don’t look down on her either but she’s like four years younger than me. I don’t give a flying fuck that she’s been to aftercare, it doesn’t mean shit to me. I don’t think she’s better than me. I’m not trying to say anything mean about Caitlin because I like Caitlin. But I don’t think anyone’s better than me for getting through the program faster than me.

The point of me writing this is to say that I’ve had to deal with my share of problems, with the delusions, the suicidal attempts and thoughts, and all the med changes. I was probably just more fucked up to begin with. I didn’t feel a particularly strong drive to get out of the program. When I do feel a drive, it drives me crazy! Like this drive to get published.

My Life in Treatment: A Brief History (part 1)

Treatment began for me in the spring of 2008 in the lovely city of Santa Barbara. Yes, the city was lovely. The program was not. The director was a mean lady who everyone hated. I hated her from the very beginning, when I saw the report she wrote based on our interview. She talked about me in a very condescending way, to say the least. And she misquoted my therapist, leading me to shoot my therapist a nasty email, and then I found out that my therapist never said I had that delusional belief which I didn’t have, so the mean director lady made it up. Out of thin air.

I didn’t know until I got there that they didn’t allow caffeine. See, I have some sort of undiscovered disorder where I must have stimulants in my system. If I don’t, I’m stuck on the level of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs where I am preoccupied with food. A cup or two of coffee and this preoccupation goes away. Lucky thing I was on Adderall. Problem: the doctor didn’t believe in prescription speed. So I had to sneak away and spend my money on energy drinks and shots of espresso. The funny thing about this program is that they only help people who they think are good enough for them, so when it became clear I was going to be kicked out I ran away and spent two days wandering the streets and the bars in downtown Santa Barbara and smoking coke with strangers in the bushes in the middle of the night. I met two guys at a bar and started hanging out with them. I asked them if they had any drugs, they told me they had methadone. So I took their methadone. And they kept giving me more and more methadone pills, and I just kept popping them, not knowing how long it stays in your system (and keeps you high, Jesus Christ).

Stuff happened, and I met my mom, high off my ass on methadone and Ritalin. I talked, cried, wept, and even managed to sleep at the hotel. Then off back to Portland, or so I thought. Dream-like things would happen in my waking state, yet somehow I knew what was just in my head and what was real. Except instead of going back to Portland, we went to Spokane. I woke up in another hotel with my parents, wondering why I was still high as fuck. Then off to this stupid place called Innercept.

Innercept is the name of the treatment center I am currently at. It gets it’s name because of this chart they have at almost all the campuses, where two lines intercept, making four quadrants. These quadrants represent your inner self, that’s where the “inner” comes from. Don’t ask me what I think of the name, because if you do I’ll tell you it’s the stupidest fucking name ever.

Anyway, so after a week of walking around in a fuzzy state of itchiness, the methadone wore off. And it was just me and the morning coffee and the boring groups. And then I got transition passes. Transition was the next stage of the program, where you have more freedom and things are better. Passes just mean you go for the day.

That’s when I started thinking too much, and before you know it I’m delusional again. There weren’t any hallucinations or anything, just some beliefs. And then I was happy, and I was walking around smiling and no one knew why. My passes got pulled, but I had my beliefs, and that was enough.

Then, I became undelusional. And somewhere along the way I attempted suicide. I’ll spare you the details, as this is a brief history. But sometimes, when things happen you feel like you’re supposed to commit suicide, like that’s the right thing to do or something.  Yeah, I know that’s totally wrong. But anyway.

So this was a set back. And by this time I’d been at Innercept about six months. When suddenly, out of the blue, I started talking like a normal person! Excited by my new found ability to talk, I began feeling the need to fill any silence with the sound of me talking. Then people told me they didn’t like it when I talked. So I stopped talking. Then my therapist took me to the hospital and lied and told them I was suicidal, so I was admitted. Which was funny, because I actually wasn’t suicidal. It’s funny how they take you to the hospital when you don’t need to, and they don’t take you when you do.

More to come...