Posted on by karin.jervert

Everyone’s Afraid of an Angry Woman: Honoring Sinéad O’Connor

There is one thing about having been a “delinquent” teen, or a “freak” as we called ourselves, in the chaos of the early 90s that really makes it seem like we were part of something special—a kind of revolution. At the very least, this time was a powerful shift in youth culture. The most amazing part of that time for me was being accompanied through my tumultuous youth by some powerful, strange, and beautiful musicians. For that I always felt very lucky. I know each era has its musical heroes, but something was really special about ’90s music, I think. And as I’ve written about before, music has been an immensely important part of my life and my healing.

The ‘90s were chock-full of brave women artists especially. But, Sinéad O’Connor, or Shuhada’ Sadaqat (the name she adopted after converting to Islam in 2018), may have been the most bold, the most unique of all the musicians of that time. She was a woman from Dublin who took on the Pope on night time television, for goodness’ sake.

Click here to read the full article on Mad in America.

Posted on by karin.jervert

Loss, Grief, and Betrayal: Psychiatric Survivors Reflect on the Impact of New Serotonin Study

By Karin Jervert and Marnie Wedlake

Loss, grief, and a sense of betrayal are felt deeply by many who have been affected by the myth of the chemical imbalance—a myth given so much attention over so many decades that it became the most pervasive way we understood emotional suffering. The myth of the chemical imbalance became so powerful that it overcame the truths of the human condition itself.

With the recent publication of the Moncrieff et al study, which reviewed decades of research, the chemical imbalance myth was shown to have no support in scientific evidence. The theory of a chemical imbalance is a myth, and has always been a myth.

As psychiatric survivors, we—Karin Jervert and Marnie Wedlake—were inspired by the paper and the attention it gained. Thinking about all those who are now realizing they have been lied to by doctors, family, and friends, we took some time to look back on what it felt like when we came to that realization. We hope it will help those going through the endless layers of anger, grief, and loss after learning of this betrayal. 

Click here to read the entire article on Mad in America.

Posted on by karin.jervert

Small Art Show At Small World

I wanted to share some images and the artist statement from my recent show at a local coffee shop. Just took it down Tuesday.

Statement: The most important aspect of the Mad Pride Movement to me, as an artist, is remembering the humanity of grief, trauma, and suffering. Generations of wisdom around grieving have been shut down and silenced, the ways we used to hold one another in suffering have been forgotten.

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Posted on by karin.jervert

The Song of Psychiatry: The Impact of Language

As a young woman, I believed the story I was told and internalized the language of the psychiatric system. The story it told, the song it sang, was that I was broken, that I had a disease, and that I had no other choice besides medication if I wanted to survive in the world I lived in—the white, patriarchal, imperialist, and commodity-obsessed culture I existed in. But the truth is that this story—a deceptive lullaby—put me so deep into the numbness of sleep, it nearly killed me.

These days, I find myself wondering what particular details of this story made it such a destructive force in my life? Some find this story helpful, even healing. So what made psychiatry’s attempt to “save me,” the language they used, very nearly destroy me instead?

Why did this story become the only thing standing between me and healing?

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Posted on by karin.jervert

Webinar: Art-Making as an Alternative Philosophy of Care During Emotional Crisis



In this webinar, hosted by the National Empowerment Center, we will explore several conditions and intentions in art-making practice which can create spaces that support healing for ourselves and for those in emotional crisis. We will talk about art-making as a container for suffering, anger, altered states, and other experiences; how to facilitate flow within this space; and what obstacles can appear like fear, judgment, shame, and paralysis. We will talk also about lowering stakes in self-expression by encouraging and incorporating play and mistakes as powerful learning experiences. I will offer tools and ideas that together use art-making practices and concepts as a framework for a philosophy of care and compassion in the presence of our own and other’s suffering, and create portability of these practices so that we can bring these ideas and intentions into our lives and relationships day to day to create positive change within our selves and our larger communities.

Posted on by karin.jervert

For My Friend & Those With Chronic Illness

When the years of life are piling up and the suffering has found no end, yet.

What god-forsaken thing inside of us keeps us here? Keeps us tied to life? It seems like a kind of ball, a compressed ball of all the unknown things about ourselves. It’s been there all along, whether we were paying attention to it or not. I didn’t even know it was there, keeping me alive, waking me up every morning, no matter what I was faced with. I didn’t even know it was a choice. The unknown just floated there in the center of me, all things swirling around it saying, “I will never give up.” It would just never give up. It was fundamental. It was so fundamental that it was invisible, like the pipes in a house, or the cement foundation under the earth. Life was just alive and living was just what I did. No matter how much it hurt. No matter how much all the voices, the ignorance, and misunderstandings, the harm and “virtuous” malice, the drugs and the gobs of money lost, I was some way of being in it all that said, “I will never give up.”

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Posted on by karin.jervert

What We Have Always Known but Psychiatry Forgot

When I came off my last medication, my psychiatrist said to me, “You will get sick again.”

Psychiatry has always been sure of one thing about me: that I would never recover from bipolar disorder. I was asked to accept that I was sick for life and to act accordingly. This meant any thoughts I had away from this “fact” should be seen as a symptom and dangerous thoughts to allow myself to believe. I was also told to acquiesce my healing and recovery to the power of psychiatry. I could have no power to heal myself because I was no doctor. I was not capable of understanding how to move towards health, not only because my judgement could not be trusted, but because the only answer to a “broken brain” was what only they claimed to understand fully—psychiatric drugs.

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