A powerful memoir of antidepressants, misdiagnosis and madness. There was that term again, depression, being tossed around. When had I received an official diagnosis, anyway? It had just been mentioned by my GP and now staff were picking it up and running with it. Things seemed to be getting blown out of proportion. I wanted to know why I couldn't be tested for this so-called imbalance in my brain before being put on medication, but I didn't want him to think I was questioning his expertise. He was the second doctor now to recommend the treatmen. And these are the newer sort - the ones that aren't addictive or anything? Not addictive. They're very safe.
Shortly after the birth of her daughter Rebekah Beddoe was diagnosed with post-natal depression. Two years later she was taking six different drugs, including lithium, a tranquilliser, an antipsychotic, and antidepressants. She had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder; given electric-shock therapy; made numerous attempts on her life; and was alternately manic and consumed by crippling despair during which she could barely move. She had a two-year-old daughter she hardly knew and a mother and partner who were at their wits'