Untitled


So we have been taught, we have been coerced, we have been shamed into believing that the need of a crutch is tantamount to crying out to the world: I am a wretched,worthless human being who deserves nothing but the scorn of a few, the pity of many, and little help in between.

What difference lies between the man with a broken leg and the man suffering anxiety, depression, post traumatic stress disorder or simply is tired ? Would a good man pull the crutch out from under the fellow with a broken leg, then assure him as he lay wriggling on the ground, “Do not worry, when the leg has healed and the pain is gone, you will be fine. ” Why then would a good doctor pull from beneath a patient a potion that gives ease to suffering until therapy can allow a more permanent cure ? A crutch if you will .

I engaged in conversation with a Doctor of psychiatry once upon a time .  He related to me a story of a time when he was sent as an advisor to a third world country where he had occasion to minister therapy to many men, [and women], who had lived for years in abhorrent conditions, who had seen families ripped from the foundations of homes; people he knew could be helped immediately, if not long term, by the administration of a very inexpensive drug, one that he was not allowed to administer.

Protocol dictated at the time “No type of mind altering drug shall be given to the indigenous people, no matter the potential benefits. ” The tears in his eyes told me his tale.

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