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March 15, 2016A Mind of Your Own When It Counts... Act Now! Our Medical Director Kelly Brogan's new book, A Mind of Your Own, launches today. It's b
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Our Medical Director Kelly Brogan's new book, A Mind of Your Own, launches today. It's brilliant and by all rights, should be sitting atop the New York Times bestseller list this week.
I've been stewing, however, because it's been blacklisted by all major media outlets. We can get still get this done on our own power, of course, and we will. I'll explain how.
Why this book matters
But first, I want to tell you why this is so important to me:
▪ Psychiatric medication, an $80+ billion per year business, diminishes the quality of life of, and inflicts untold suffering upon, tens of millions of Americans. Mostly women and increasingly children.
▪ Anti-depressant use is harming the social fabric of our country. It has been linked to virtually every single mass shooting in recent history.
▪ Depression is eminently manageable and often reversible without drugs.
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This totally uncensored book, and the courageous, activist intention behind it, represent a watershed opportunity for the large and growing numbers of people like you and me who care deeply about the direction our country is headed when it comes to health and wellness. When this book breaks through to mainstream audiences:
▪ It will epitomize a true democratization of information and the triumph of social over mainstream media.
▪ It will validate and reward the principled actions of a few passionate and determined people who took a stand because it was the right thing to do.
▪ It will inspire others to do the same. The ripple effects will extend far beyond what we can imagine.
▪ It can change beliefs. It can change policy. It can change standard of care. It can help heal our world.
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Let’s get this done
Grassroots activism feels like home to me. When an issue speaks my heart, I’m game to mix it up and make some noise. If Kelly is lighting a torch, I’m all in. She is one of the bravest people I know… she lives her truth. When things get dicey, I don’t blame people if they need to run for cover. But that’s not my girl, Kelly. She’ll double down. Click HERE to hear what she has to say, in her own words.
We’re asking you to do three things:
▪ Buy the book at your local bookstore. If it’s not there, ask them to stock it.
▪ Take a selfie with the book and post it to social media with the hashtag #AMindofYourOwn. Don’t forget to link to your location. And tag @fearlessparent1, too!
▪ Click HERE and spend $13.99 to send this book to someone you love.
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It’s also very personal
Yeah, I’m a little riled up. I have a mind of my own!! I’m no patsy. I throw socks at the TV when the Pharma commercials come on. I buy organic whenever possible, and otherwise look for the No GMO label on packaged foods. My toothpaste is fluoride-free. My meat isn’t just grass-fed; it’s grass finished. My water is structured. And I know that “natural flavorings” is code for MSG. I’m a smart cookie.
That’s bravado talking. The truth is that I’m humbled all the time. I wonder about the things I don’t know. I think about the ways that I’m manipulated and influenced. I imagine that I’m impervious but commercial programming gets through nonetheless. I’ll buy something new because I’m seduced by the promise… I want to save time, save the world, surprise the kids, enjoy a bit of novelty… and then I’ll realize that I’ve been scammed. It happens more often than I’d like to admit.
It makes me think about a time when I wasn’t a discerning consumer… especially when it came to health care. |
A little something to take the edge off?
I’m going to share something with you that used to feel like a secret. Here goes. I’ve been given multiple prescriptions for anti-depressants. We’re talking at least a dozen times over the years. Wellbutrin. Prozac. Lexapro. Other names that I no longer remember. I remember responding to the doctors’ questions, stammering or even tearing up when asked how I was doing with, you name it — a traumatic break-up followed by a cross-country relo; an unprecedented job promotion coinciding with vituperative peer animus; a new baby with jaundice who couldn’t latch properly and total sleep deprivation; my new husband’s near miss on 9/11; my boys’ vaccine injury — you know, life.
It took less than 60 seconds for the pad to be pulled out and a script to be produced, along with a wistful smile and a promise: “A little something to take the edge off.”
That’s what got me. It always sounded so damn harmless, like a fun little package of Skittles. The edge off what exactly? Yes, I sometimes felt on edge… or on the edge. But were we talking a temporary glitch or did I actually have a mental health problem? That was never made clear. I filled the prescription, just once, and held the bottle in my hand. I might’ve succumbed with just a tiny bit of pressure but no one pushed me. Swallowing that first pill felt significant to me in some vague way that I couldn’t articulate and didn’t have the energy to research. It is nothing short of a miracle that I never started taking them. Being smart had nothing to do with it. |
I dodged that bullet
I don’t feel remotely smug about it. There are so many bullets I haven’t dodged; it’s a wonder that I’m still standing.
I remember eating green beans and drinking Tab, both straight out of the can with my best friend from Andover. I graduated to a big corporate job and, too busy or tired to cook most nights, I ate potato chips with Lean Cuisine for dinner, along with swigs of pasteurized skim milk. I took antibiotics and antifungals to head off all manner of infections. Before I started flying to Japan every three weeks, I proactively asked the corporate physician for a sleeping pill to “manage” jet lag. Every fall, I dutifully rolled up my sleeve for an annual flu shot, and hounded my loved ones to do the same.
When I developed the worst case of full body chronic hives and angioedema (think: Marge Simpson) you ever saw, no one, least of all me, ever made any connections between the food I ate; the drugs and vaccines I took; the personal care products I liberally slathered on; the stress that surrounded me; and the discomfort of me in my own skin.
When my boys were diagnosed with vaccine injury in 2004, I started researching and stopped sleeping… for about 7 years. And then I read about a young woman whose story shook me to my core (and got me sleeping again).
>> Continue reading |
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