How I was prescribed Seroquel

***TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

July 21, 2019:

After paying out of pocket for health care due to being over the state minimum by $3, I attempted to seek help from a psychiatrist. After explaining the causes of my PTSD, Depression, and Anxiety this African man proceeded to call me “fleshy” while squeezing his hands in the air, I became statuesque a coping mechanism that I had learned to not outwardly show the shaking and muscle flinches I have from the tingling that I experience under my skin when I’m anxious. He told me that I should deal with older men like himself or 32+ who understand no- when said seriously- and take any instances that I felt were wrong or traumatic as a loss to “just get over it” “I was not the first and I would not be the last” he told me a story of him and his cousin that he said was exactly the same- it was not- then proceeded to keep asking questions as to suggest I encouraged the malicious experience I had and in the same breath said that my experience had not been malicious enough, there was no gun to my head my clothes had not been ripped only moved so at some point I consented or at least led the person to believe the consent was there despite polite verbal no’s then he said “when a woman opens her legs to a man…” think I blanked out after, when I tuned back in that’s when he went on to say “it wasn’t my fault” he wanted to make me feel better but he “was telling me as a man how the game was played” I needed to forget the word “rape” and just think of it as “I had a good time and didn’t want to see the person again”. I paid $100 for this “advice” and he then proceeded to prescribe me an anti-psychotic that is typically used for those who are bipolar or have schizophrenia.

I can’t catch a break. My story and situation is very complicated but many would never know, this has been both a blessing and a curse in my eyes because I do not want to be pitied and I am able to continue to do amazing work for others and those in my community (staying busy is a coping mechanism) but the same drive and passion people see makes them blind to my pain so I end up “intimidating” people with the work load, my aspirations and protects that I take on and they make my life harder because they think I can handle it.

If
Anyone
Wants
To HELP…
$greente

I just want to make the money back to see someone else for some valid help, that I recognize I need, ASAP. Depression is a chemical imbalance and when coping skills aren’t enough medication stands a better chance against feelings of being overwhelmed which often result in suicidal thoughts.

The black community is often against talking about or acknowledging needing help with mental health and then generations are poisoned with the belief that they must handle everything on their own or through God. God made people smart enough to become scientist to create medicine and people dumb enough to believe that women “open their legs” to rapists.