I’ve had several posts bouncing around in my head this week, but it can be hard to find the time to flesh them out. I’m impressed with those of you who manage to post every day.
A couple weeks ago Philip posted a discussion of this piece by Richard Friedman, discussing the impact of early psychiatric diagnosis and medication on development. The article includes an example of a young woman who had struggled with a low sex drive, and had never been told this is a common effect of SSRIs, which she took from her early teens. She just thought she was defective.
This got me thinking that the impact of meds on sexual development might be particularly important for queer teenagers and young adults. It is really hard to come out, even these days. A two to six-fold increase in the rate of the suicide attempts for gay teens (compared to controls) is often reported. If we take these stats at face value, and gay teens are more likely to kill themselves, I’m guessing they’re more likely to end up in psychological or psychiatric treatment as teens. If I’m right, then gay teens are probably more likely to take SSRIs or other psych drugs, and thus more likely to experience the side effects of these drugs. I’m also guessing that shutting down sexuality at that point might feel like relief. But at what cost? I was on SSRIs in my early 20s, and they absolutely shut me down sexually. I felt it as a relief, at least initially, but I had also already had time to establish my identity as a lesbian by that point, and eventually I came to my senses and got off of them. What if I had gone on SSRIs in high school when I had only just begun to understand my identity as a lesbian?
Difficulties with my family over my sexuality were a huge component of what pulled me into the psychiatric system at age 20. Not once did any doctor or psychologist in my early treatment ask me about how I was coping with coming out, how my family had reacted. It was much easier to diagnose me than to put together that I had just lost all of my family support, both financial and personal, and that maybe, just maybe, this was contributing to my emotional state. I was fiercely protective of my family, and even if someone had tried, I might not have accepted that interpretation. But my medical records make it abundantly clear that no one even tried to put two and two together. It was easier to hand me some Depakote and send me on my way.
I think you make a valid point here. I know from my own experiences that SSRI’s shut you down sexually. For someone who is just exploring this area and perhaps feeling confusion and stress about it, SSRI’s may very well contribute to masking something that the patient will still have to deal with later if/when he or she stops taking the drugs.
I had a similar experience to you in that in the aftermath of the manic episode that got me diagnosed, nobody–not the psychiatrist, and not the therapist–asked about the incredible amount of stress I was under at home. Briefly, my best friend was going through a divorce, and we had offered her a place to stay while she got her act together. She hadn’t been here more than a week when she started having an affair with my (married) brother-in-law, putting me smack in the middle between her and my sister-in-law (and the rest of the family, for that matter). Apparently that kind of stress didn’t have any bearing on the situation. Yeah, right.
I’ve actually noted–in hindsight, mind you–that almost all of the episodes I can remember have had some kind of stress trigger. I believe now that perhaps a better route for me would have been to learn better stress management techniques. But of course, as you pointed out, it was much easier to throw a bottle of Depakote at me, wasn’t it?
That’s unbelievable. It sounds like you were really experiencing normal emotions from circumstantial events rather than actually struggling with a psychiatric diagnosis. Pop a Prozac and call me if you’re bawling.
Marissa–In retrospect, it does seem painfully obvious, but I didn’t put it together for years, and of course neither did my initial doctors. I’d like to think my experience was unique, that I fell through the cracks and most people don’t, but I think my experience was completely typical.
I really love this posting and it made me think about a lot. I feel that I missed a lot of important things in my formative years due to the drugs. My coming out stories aren’t like the ones of my friends – mine was kind of like, “Yeah, I like girls, but who cares because I don’t like sex.” I wound up having “relationships” with men that I never slept with because I was just so stifled by these drugs that made me not feel… and what I felt for girls was always So Damn Real and that seemed to be too much to deal with!
I had a later “Great Gay Awakening” than most women did due to my being drugged for most of my teenage years.