Here in Canada, as elsewhere, there’s suddenly a lot of new programs for “mental health” being announced. Typically, these are online mindfulness or CBT courses, lists of ways to relax, calming mantras, or something similar.
These programs are helpful to some, particularly those experiencing a normal, human level of anxiety in these unusual circumstances. They’re not helpful for everyone. As we’ve said numerous times, mental health (and mental illness) is not a one-size-fits-all problem, and no one solution will solve it.
It’s not surprising that those with existing mental illness who are finding things more difficult now (which is to be expected) are often having more difficulty accessing care they need. Many clinics and mental health offices are closed, or running more focused and stripped-down care. That’s a problem, but not what I want to talk about.
How do you find the right help?
What’s missing, now more than ever, is a way for people to find the specific care they need. You’re told that if you need mental health help, check out this online (mindfulness, CBT, etc.) program. As Henry Ford would have said, “you can choose any color you’d like, as long as it’s black.”
What do you do if that program isn’t right for you? Or you try it and it doesn’t work?
There aren’t many answers in all the funding and announcements.
In fact, given the insidious nature of mental illness, your brain is more likely to turn to thoughts like:
I failed the program that was supposed to fix my mental health. I must be stupid. I’m doomed.
We can do better
We need to acknowledge that one size does not fit everyone. We still need to help people find the care they need. Now we’re relying on them to do that on their own. Those most capable of doing that are those most likely to fit those simple programs anyway. Those who need the help are on their own.
Now more than ever, people need help with navigating their mental health care.
As resources aren’t likely forthcoming, people are left on their own. That’s one of the big reasons we wrote Your Mental Health Repair Manual. It guides you through the process of navigating your mental health care, on their own, or with the support of friends and family.
It’s no substitute for professionals who can help direct you to the help you need, and make sure it works. But it will help you keep moving forward in the right direction.
People need this sort of guidance now more than ever.
We’ve finalized the text, uploaded it to our various distributors (Amazon, Draft2Digital, and Ingram), and have a bulk order in with a local printer. Working now on website updates, as well as various launch-date announcements.
Exciting (and very busy) times!
Incidentally, the ‘ad’ above is very tongue-in-cheek, initially inspired by the always-too-early Christmas marketing blitz you see everywhere before or at Hallowe’en and Remembrance Day. Several people got a kick out of it, so sharing it here. Please feel free to pass along or post on social media!
What do we do when we’re not working on finishing up our book? Yes of course, check out other books! Both of us had an opportunity to examine this new book from Dr. Diane McIntosh. Our review(s) follow.
An empathetic and optimistic hands-on tour through the world of depression.
Book titles can be obscure and misleading… not this one! Dr. McIntosh’s book fully delivers on its promise, giving patients and others most everything they need to know about depression. Definitely comprehensive, she covers a wide range of subjects: what depression is, what it looks like in all its diversity, how it’s diagnosed, what causes it, how to talk to people about it, where to find help, myths, and information on a broad range of treatments. The book covers talk therapy, supplements, electroconvulsive therapy, exercise and many others (kale enemas, incidentally, are not recommended). She extensively covers the confusing and misunderstood universe of medications. She tackles the real questions people have about how they work, what to expect, how to deal with side effects, and more.
The other keyword in the subtitle is “compassionate,” and this is the real strength of the book. It’s refreshingly positive, hopeful, and, most of all, human. Her explanations, intermixed with patient vignettes, treat the reader with respect and serve to empower. They normalize what can be a frightening and lonely illness for many people. Readers will also find actionable advice throughout the book. This includes specific recommendations and suggestions around where to go to find help, how to approach appointments, and talk to others, whether caregivers, family and friends, or someone that you’re concerned about. It’s clear that nurturing informed and fully engaged patients is her mission, unlike some doctors who are threatened or intolerant when patients step up.
While well-referenced, this is far from a dry and monolithic academic text. The writing is very accessible. It’s broken up into small sections and chapters, which makes it very easy to follow. Readers can skim through topics of less interest and take a deeper dive into others (budding genetics and neuroscience geeks will rejoice!). I especially like the extensive glossary. It helps not only when encountering an unfamiliar term in the text, but also helps when deciphering jargon from doctors or others. Items in the glossary are bold-faced throughout the book, which again makes it easier to skim through.
This is a very practical book, delving into medical evidence and standards when they’re useful, but not being constrained by their limits. She’s not shy about offering real-world advice based on her experiences with patients, which mostly works. At times though, it’s a challenge. There are great benefits in sharing what too rarely ends up written down, but some risks of over-generalizing with such diversity in patients and illnesses. For example, when briefly describing specific medications, she suggests “other SSRI options are better.” This may be a bit heavyweight and could shut down rather than open up a conversation with a prescriber. Limited space makes this difficult to pull off perfectly, though appropriate caveats are usually close by.
‘This is Depression’ covers a lot of ground in an approachable and relevant way. Anyone hoping to gain a better understanding of this illness and how to recover from it will benefit. Dr. McIntosh has done a superb job bundling everything together in one comprehensive, compassionate package.
A great resource for patients and families
So far, I’ve only had a chance to briefly flip through it, but I’m excited to have a book like this to recommend to my patients and their families. Like Diane, patients in my own psychiatry practice are always looking for more information about their illness. Too often, they end up finding a few things here, a few things there, not all of it reliable or easy to digest. She’s put together a great collection of solid and easy to read information on a very diverse range of topics. Most importantly, patients will be able to find answers to nearly all their questions in one place. I like that she doesn’t shy away from specific biological details for the many patients who are eager to learn more. I’m looking forward to going through this in more detail, and I’m sure will learn a few new things myself.
Mental health awareness week is normally focused on stigma, but we can’t forget that access to quality treatment matters too… and there’s lots more work to be done on that front!
With that in mind, we’re excited to announce the upcoming launch of:
Your Mental Health Repair Manual:
An Empowering, No-Nonsense Guide to Navigating Mental Health Care and Finding Treatments That Work for You.
Pauline Lysak MD and Mark Roseman
This is the answer for all the patients, families, and healthcare providers who’ve been frustrated trying to access mental health services. Finally, the practical, real-world solutions to getting your care on track, in one easy-to-follow guide.
The book will be officially released in late November. To pre-order a copy, or to check out an excerpt, visit https://mhnav.com/book/.
As we get ready to launch our new book, it’s time to restart this blog. You’ll see a great deal of new information posted here over the coming weeks and months.
Put another way, note that everything prior to this posting was from 2014-2015, and likely somewhat out of date. We’ll keep them around, and some, like the article on ferritin and B12, are still quite popular. We don’t plan on updating them though.
Scientific evidence is treated as holy gospel by some people, and entirely discounted by others. When it comes to evidence for mental health, living at either end of this spectrum is a mistake. This article explains everything you need to know to understand mental health evidence, including its limitations.
This started out as a chapter in the book, but was eventually removed both because of length and complexity. It was replaced by a brief teaser in the “Paging Dr. Google” chapter, but we wanted to keep the original available for those who want the details.
Before proceeding, we’ll let you in on a secret about evidence. People tell you a treatment they want you to use has evidence. Doctors and other professionals may use an evidence-based approach. Science gives us objective confidence through evidence.
Evidence is important. However, hearing that there is evidence for a treatment often does not mean what you think it means.
Let’s say you’ve been diagnosed with major depressive disorder (MDD). You hear a statement like “There is strong evidence to support the use of HappyNow™ for treatment of MDD” or “HappyNow™ was shown to be significantly better than placebo (a sugar pill) at treating MDD.”
Most people would hear these phrases and think to themselves: “I have MDD. So if I take HappyNow™ it will help me! I’ll be better!” Unfortunately, most people would be wrong. This is not at all what they mean. We’ll explain, but here’s the bottom line:
If someone tells you that ‘X’ will treat your mental illness and that there is evidence or proof that it works, there is a high probability that will be of little help to you.
Most people need to try several different treatments before they find one or more that fully treats their illness. People are often surprised that science doesn’t provide the level of certainty they expect. Why?
Evidence isn’t an absolute. There are different levels of evidence, some stronger than others. This is true in all areas of medicine.
Mental health research is tricky because mental illness is so complicated. Illnesses are made up of many possible symptoms, each which may have a multitude of different causes.*
The stronger the evidence, the more uniform the test subjects. Stronger evidence results from limiting variability. To reduce variability, experiments may exclude people who have other physical or mental illnesses, people of certain ages, social backgrounds, etc. But mental health symptoms are affected by many factors, often intertwined. Limiting variability may produce stronger evidence, but it may apply to very few people.
* The understanding of what causes certain symptoms is still unclear compared with more established areas of medicine, e.g. cardiology. People used to think depression was all about serotonin, but now think many other factors contribute, e.g. inflammation. A faulty understanding of causation can make data that is collected less relevant.
Thorough testing that takes into account the variability found in the real world is practically impossible. Tools to examine and measure results are also limited. Evidence in mental health, therefore, has more caveats. Evidence cannot reliably predict what will or won’t work for someone. It’s not like evidence in chemistry class where all you’re checking is if adding A to B turns B purple.
Evidence in mental health is no guarantee. If you’re comfortable with that conclusion, please feel free to skip to the next chapter. If you want a deeper understanding of why evidence in mental health is less clear-cut, keep reading. This will also help if you need to argue with people about treatments. Compelled to justify why you’re not drinking 10 cups of tea each day made from a stinky plant that a persistent relative pulled from their garden? Read on. Or get them to read it. While they’re drinking their tea.
Levels of Evidence
In medicine, people look for proof that a treatment will work. What they mean by proof is scientific evidence supporting the conclusion. The best treatments are evidence-based.
However, evidence-based is not a simple yes or no concept. The quality of evidence affects how much you should trust its conclusions. Determining the quality of evidence can be extremely challenging.
Evidence comes in different forms. You’ve likely heard of some, like randomized control trials (RCT’s). Medical evidence usually falls into one of the categories shown below.
Systematic review of randomized control trials
Individual randomized control trial
All or none
Systematic review of cohort studies
Individual cohort study
“Outcomes” research; ecological studies
Systematic review of case-control studies
Individual case-control study
Some levels of evidence.
Adapted from Oxford Centre for Evidence-based Medicine—Levels of Evidence (March 2009). Their website provides an excellent set of resources to learn more about how evidence can be used and misused in medicine.
Evidence has the potential to be stronger the higher up it is on the list. Be skeptical when someone tells you that a treatment will work because it’s “evidence-based.” This is not an unqualified endorsement.
We’ll describe a few of these levels below. Let’s say you are a researcher who is interested in whether a new medication helps treat a specific illness.
At the lowest (weakest) level of evidence, you might follow one or more people who took the medication and describe what happens. This is called a case report or case series.
A case-control study tries to identify the cause of an illness. It’s not about treatment so wouldn’t help you with the new medication. It takes one group of people who have the illness and another who doesn’t have the illness. Researchers look at the medical histories of both groups. They try to identify any differences that might explain why one group has the illness.
In cohort studies, you gather a pool of research subjects. Those who are already taking the medication go in one group, and those not already taking the medication go in another group. You follow both groups over time and identify the differences between them.
Randomized control trials are the most well-known evidence-based clinical studies. You gather a group of patients who all have the illness. Half of the people in the group, picked randomly, are given the medication, while the other half aren’t given the medication. You follow everyone over time and compare the outcomes of both groups. In a double-blind RCT, neither the patients nor the researchers that measure the results know which patients were given the medication.
Systematic reviews (SR’s) or meta-analyses start with a literature search identifying previous studies. These include RCT’s, case-control, or others. The similarities and differences between individual studies are analyzed and conclusions are drawn. These “studies of studies” can vary in quality depending on how the individual studies are selected, their quality, and their methodologies.
If you have ten studies using the same methodology, the same patient restrictions, etc., the meta-analysis can’t draw broader conclusions than the individual studies. But a meta-analysis could include many studies that varied greatly in overall study design. For example, it could include different medication doses, lengths of time, ages, genders, people with multiple physical and mental health conditions, and so on. A review of many large and varied studies that all show the same result is strong evidence.
Quality of Evidence
Before trusting a study, you must review its methodology and quality. The size of the study, patient selection criterion, constraints, outcome measures, duration, dropouts, and many other factors of the study design have a significant impact on how results are interpreted. Have other researchers been able to take the same study design and replicate the results?
You may have a great study providing a low level of evidence. Or you may have a very flawed study which aims to provide a very high level of evidence. Neither are likely much help to you. How do you know if a study is comprehensive and methodologically sound or deeply flawed? Read articles that reference the published study and see if they support it or denounce it and why.
As you can see from even this very superficial overview, the reality of medical evidence is not straightforward. We’re not suggesting you need to be an expert in experimental design or statistics. Instead, recognize that evidence can mean many things and can evolve over time. You should look for strong evidence, ideally many large, long-term, independent, and well-designed RCT’s. Be cautious when relying on small observational studies or anecdotal reports, especially from only a single source.
Is Significant Always Significant?
When people claim that treatments are evidence-based, they aren’t lying to you. They’re not trying to deceive or mislead you. They’re just speaking a different language. The word significant is a perfect example. Significant has a technical meaning in statistics, which is something along the lines of “much more likely.” As in, we’re pretty sure the medication is better than nothing. How much better? That we don’t know. It could make you feel 0.1% better (i.e. who really cares) or 95% better (wow!). We’d refer to the latter as clinically significant, which is a completely different concept from statistical significance.
Here’s a silly example. Gather 5000 people. Give half of them, chosen at random, a placebo pill and the other half the medication you’re studying. Give them all a test of some kind. Let’s say that every single person who took the placebo scored 61/1000, while everyone who took your medication scored 62/1000. That is (statistically) significant because the likelihood the pill improved their score (vs. it being a random fluke) is very high.
Despite that, the result is likely not clinically significant. If someone offered you a 0.1% improvement in your mental illness, it’s not going to make a big difference in your life. Also, in real life, it would involve more than a single pill. To complicate matters even further, there are even different levels of statistical significance, e.g. “we’re confident it will be better 19 times out of 20” (ok, but not great) vs. “… better 999 times out of 1000” (very good).
What Did the Studies Measure?
Mental health studies follow one or more groups of people for a period of time. They then evaluate some aspect of their mental health, e.g. are people more or less depressed? It is these outcomes or results that provide the conclusions for the study. The question you have to ask yourself is if the outcomes matter to you. In other words, are the symptoms that improved the same symptoms you have? In many cases, the answer is either a clear “no” or the study doesn’t provide enough information for you to know.
Again, let’s assume you have MDD. If someone told you they had a cure for all mental illness (and an RCT to prove it!), you’d be thinking snake oil. If they said instead it was shown to be effective for mood problems, you might not completely ignore them. If they said (and you believe) there was statistically and clinically strong evidence their treatment helped with MDD? Now they’ve probably got your attention. Does it apply to you? Maybe.
Two people can have two completely different sets of symptoms, presenting in two completely different ways, and be diagnosed with the same mental illness. How different can they be?
Being diagnosed with a mental illness usually means meeting a certain number of criteria (for MDD, it’s at least five from a list of nine). One person could meet criterion 1-5 and another criterion 5-9. They have only one in common.
Each criterion has countless alternatives, e.g. “depressed or irritable mood.” Compare this to some physical illnesses where the diagnosis is based on a blood test. Positive or negative? There’s far more variability in mental illness.
Severity can be completely different.
Even a specific mental illness like MDD can be astronomically diverse. Studies that fully recognize this are inordinately expensive and complicated to run. Most studies can’t do that, so their reported outcomes are very general. At best, they can offer possibility and future promise.
Most studies use rating scales to measure symptoms before and after. A common one for depression (HAM-D) has 17 questions about different symptoms. Someone interviews you to determine a rating for each symptom. They give you a score between zero (you don’t have that symptom at all) and either two or four (you’re greatly suffering from that symptom). They add up all the questions and get a total score for how severe your depression is, as shown below.
Very Severe Depression
Interpreting scores on the Hamilton Rating Scale for Depression (HAM-D).
Imagine a study showed that a medication reduced MDD from severe to normal. This sounds spectacular! But if they measure it according to the total HAM-D score, that can happen by improving as few as three symptoms (out of 17).
By looking only at the total score, you have no idea which symptoms it improved or by how much. Errors in sampling may have led to more study participants with one set of symptoms. Even with a very large sample size, a medication that works really well on only a few symptoms would show a statistically significant effect. All this is great unless you have some of the symptoms that didn’t improve in the study. The medication has a much smaller chance of helping you than the overall result suggests. But you have no way of knowing because the study didn’t report individual symptoms, just the total HAM-D score.
Using a single number as a proxy for multiple individual measures is common. You ideally would like to see the effect on individual measures. That will help you determine if it’s (more) relevant to you. But if a study wants to look at many results, it needs to be much larger and more expensive. Achieving the same statistical significance as one with a single result increases the size and expense even further. There are other reasons why researchers like to report on a single measure. Saying “this medication is an effective treatment for depression” is a much better sound bite than “this medication effectively reduces feelings of guilt in patients with depression.” While the first has a better ring to it, it’s just not as useful when you’re making treatment decisions.
Who Did the Studies Include?
Encapsulating many symptoms behind a single score can hide a lot about what the study is actually measuring, as you just saw. But it’s not only the outcomes that you need to be concerned about. It’s also the inputs, otherwise known as the people who participated in the study. How varied was that “random sample” of subjects? Does it provide a true representation of the overall population? Most importantly, does it represent you?
It’s now generally recognized that for decades, medical studies had a very strong gender bias. Most studies used men as test subjects. There are statistical benefits of tightly controlling the pool of subjects. This helps strengthen the result, even though it applies to fewer people. It’s a stretch to broaden the conclusions without the data to back them up. Claiming that 70% of men who have a heart attack experience chest pain before based on evidence. Because nobody was studying women, everyone assumed they too had chest pain 70% of the time. When the studies were done, chest pain was much less common (around 58%). Other differences were even more pronounced.
A single study doesn’t need to cover every variation. But the more variations covered by multiple studies, the better. Other factors can include:
age (consider physical illnesses like heart disease and diabetes, now diagnosed at a younger age, and not commonly studied in that age group previously)
race and ethnicity (certain genetic traits are more common in some groups, including factors that affect how medications are metabolized; people of some races are far less likely to respond to some medications)
socio-economics (research has shown clear connections between economic status and patterns of diet, exercise, weight, sleep, and other factors that not only may affect the presentation of mental illness but also influence the effectiveness of treatments)
gender diversity (you would find few older studies, that did not automatically exclude those who did not fit the binary male/female model, leaving many intersex and transgender patients with data that may or may not apply to them)
health status (are people with certain physical illnesses well represented or excluded, e.g. heart disease, COPD, colitis, migraine, and is there any difference between how the treatments affect those with these illnesses than those without)
The list goes on. Do vegans react to a medication differently than carnivores? Is exposure to certain types of pollution a factor? Hair colouring? People can make educated guesses about what factors make a difference, but without the data, they don’t know for sure. They can only be 100% sure of the effect on everyone if they test everyone.
Even a large study with great variation can be tricky. Like with outcome measures, statistics can hide important variations in the subject population if not used well. If improvements were seen in the group as a whole, was it just one particular subset of test subjects that saw an improvement? Do they share something in common? Do you share that common factor? It could even be a different cause for their illness. This is something we neither understand well or can reliably measure. A treatment that affects MDD due to one cause may not touch MDD caused by something different.
Mental illness is diverse, complex, and rooted in multiple causes. All of these make reliable and informative statistical sampling more challenging.
So… Give Up?
We are not saying that evidence doesn’t matter—far from it. But it’s important to recognize there are limitations to the evidence available. More importantly, don’t be manipulated by deceptive language. You want to choose the treatments that have the best chance of helping you and treating your illness. Try to have realistic expectations. You don’t need more disappointment.
Some treatments are supported by strong evidence. This includes larger studies, broader sampling, and better outcome measures. Studies that can be independently replicated and high-quality meta-analyses are also important.
Evaluating the quality and applicability of research is something you should be doing with your doctor or other health professionals. Don’t just bring some paper and say you’re convinced the treatment it describes is credible and applicable to you, so you’re going to try it. Discuss with them which studies and treatments best apply to your illness. Remember that they have extensive expertise in interpreting medical literature. Use that to your (and their) advantage.
Accept that high-quality evidence isn’t available to answer every question. Sometimes doctors have to rely on gut instinct or clinical intuition. They’ve seen that “certain types” of people do well on one medication but not another, and that’s why they recommend it to you. They’re filling gaps in the evidence with (ad hoc, informal, and subconscious) observational studies of their own.
What we hope is to lower your expectations to match reality. Finding the right treatment for you may not be a quick or easy process. You will likely have to try several different things, some may partly work, some won’t work at all. It’s not a failure, it’s a necessary part of treating your illness.
An evidence-based treatment is not a guarantee. Evidence is not absolute. This is particularly true in mental health, where one illness can have different symptoms and different causes.
Stronger evidence is obtained by reducing variability and the scope of investigations. That decreases the chance that the evidence will apply to you.
There are many different types of evidence-producing studies. Some are more convincing than others, as is others replicating the studies and getting the same results.
Interpreting evidence is incredibly difficult and terms like “significant” are often used in a technical manner which can be misleading to casual readers. Doctors, in particular, have the background that can help you interpret evidence.
As you read through PBM, you’re left with the impression that psychiatry consists of extracting a diagnosis from a patient, and based on that diagnosis, psychotropic medications are then prescribed, or if they’re feeling particularly nasty, ECT is delivered. This is the model that is implied through repeated, disparaging use of the phrase “biological psychiatry.”
If you buy this conception of what psychiatrists do, and you believe that mental illness isn’t real, diagnoses are a sham, and psychiatric medications are by definition harmful, it seems pretty obvious that giving psychiatry the boot is a logical and necessary step.
We’ve addressed the latter three issues previously. Let’s consider how accurate “biological psychiatry” and all that it implies actually takes into account theory, training and practice.
The Psychiatric Perspective
One word you will find exactly once in the entirety of PBM is “biopsychosocial.”
It’s an interesting omission, as the biopsychosocial model is the fundamental approach taken in modern psychiatry. It tells us that our health (in this case, mental health) is based on a wide range of different factors that interact in various ways. These factors include biological ones (which includes genetics, other illnesses, nutritional or other deficiencies, and the behaviour of neurotransmitters), psychological ones (broadly speaking, the coping styles you’ve learned to think about and deal with stressors), and social ones (including such things as family issues, community pressures, socioeconomic status).
This sounds like it encompasses a lot more than just diagnosing and prescribing, but what does it all really mean?
It means that when we talk about assigning a diagnosis, it’s rarely about diagnosing one particular disorder, and effectively saying “you patient are XYZ disorder.” That would fit the reductive antipsychiatry narrative of “biological psychiatry” but is inaccurate.
Instead, when asked to assess a patient, a psychiatric diagnosis is more likely to look something like this (until recently; more on that shortly):
Axis I: Major Depressive Disorder, moderate
Generalized Anxiety Disorder
rule-out Social Anxiety Disorder
Axis II: Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder
Axis III: iron deficiency
Coronary Artery Disease
Axis IV: financial strain
Axis V: GAF 60
Each “axis” consists of one or more diagnoses or factors that are impacting the patient’s mental health. Axis I is what we’ll tongue-in-cheek refer to as the “chemical imbalance” disorders. Axis II is the “personality disorders” (more on this shortly). Axis III includes other non-psychiatric medical issues. Axis IV is factors in their social situation affecting their illness. Axis V consists of something called a Global Assessment of Functioning (GAF) which is a rough measure of in general how well a person is doing in their daily life. If there are no relevant problems on a particular axis, it is labelled as “non-contributory,” while if it hasn’t really been examined yet, it is marked as “deferred.” Particular factors to be considered later are noted as “rule-out”.
That is a lot more than just pushing pills. Let’s elaborate further.
What Psychiatrists Actually Do
Let’s start with the biological side of things (Axis I and III).
A big part is certainly what is implied by the term “biological psychiatry.” That is, determining if the patient meets diagnostic criteria for one of the mental illnesses in the DSM where medications can play a role. When it comes to suggesting medications, a psychiatrist is more likely to look at symptoms rather than a particular diagnosis. This is because, as we described earlier, certain symptoms tend to be influenced by certain neurotransmitters.
Psychiatrists also look for a range of physical health problems that can be affecting a patient’s mental health, and have nothing to do with neurotransmitters. The sorts of things that are considered are based on the patient’s physical and family health history as well as mental health symptoms. For example, an iron deficiency can present as poor concentration, low energy, and memory problems. So psychiatrists order and review a wide range of blood tests (e.g. looking at vitamin deficiencies, hormone levels, electrolytes, etc.) as these can all pay a role in mental health.
They may also, again based on physical history and symptoms, order more complex tests like EEG’s (electroencephalograms, which can pick up types of epilepsy) or CT scans (which might pick up a tumour or other brain lesion). It’s not uncommon for behaviour changes to be the first indication of some of these illnesses. Psychiatrists, as medical doctors, are particularly trained at recognizing the signs of different physical health disorders that can appear as mental illnesses. Even if patients intend to seek treatment elsewhere, seeing a psychiatrist to rule-out some of these physical causes can be valuable. Brain tumours and vitamin deficiencies don’t generally respond well to psychotherapy.
So contrary to the reductive suggestions sprinkled throughout PBM, a crucial aspect of psychiatry is being aware of the impact of physical illnesses on mental health.
On the psychological side, psychiatrists are mostly dealing with Axis II, the “personality disorders.” To grossly over-simplify, we all learn to cope with stressors in different ways. An unhealthy coping strategy is one that causes you a lot of difficulties, or doesn’t deal very well with the stress. Someone who feels no control in their life may cope by trying to take strict control of the few things they can control, and spend hours each day devoted to this; this would be an example of Obsessive-Compulsive Personality Disorder. Personality disorders are not about passing judgment on “right” ways to deal with things, but if a coping style is causing significant distress to you, the framework of personality disorders helps to better understand what isn’t working for you.
On the treatment side, addressing personality disorders usually involves psychotherapy of some sort. This is a normal part of psychiatric practice, to varying degrees (some people, usually in private practice, do more). Often psychotherapy is delegated to psychologists or other professionals, but is part of the required skill set of any psychiatrist. When my wife was doing her psychiatry residency, she was required to learn the theory of over a dozen therapeutic modalities, as well as use each one over a number of weeks with a particular patient, while being supervised by someone expert in that modality.
On the social side (Axis IV), psychiatrists are more likely to defer handling of many issues to social workers or other professionals, but issues raised certainly affect treatment decisions. As an obvious example, if they prescribe a particular medication, will the patient be able to afford it?
So, it seems psychiatrists do a bit more than just pushing pills.
A Retreat to Biology?
You may hear various things about the biopsychosocial model no longer being used, or falling out of favour. Does this mean the critics are right, and psychiatry is admitting it is really just about biology (and specifically neurotransmitters)?
Not at all. What’s actually happening is that everyone recognizes that all the different biological, psychological and social factors overlap and interact with other in complicated ways. By separating things out too much (e.g. putting things on a different axis), things felt too compartmentalized and simplistic, and didn’t take into account this complexity.
So the “end” of biopsychosocial is really just the end of assigning each illness to a category and thinking of each category as a separate type of thing, e.g. that an Axis I disorder was very different from an Axis II disorder. In fact, the latest version of the DSM, DSM-5, dispenses with the whole “Axis” form of diagnoses altogether.
Incidentally, that one mention of “biopsychosocial”? It’s used to summarily dismiss it—without evidence, mind you—as “essentially the biological model with add-ons.” The way the text is written also implies that the biopsychosocial model is a component of the Canadian Mental Health Association (CMHA), as opposed to a fundamental part of psychiatry as a whole. For readers not in Canada, the CMHA is a voluntary organization that “promotes the mental health of all and supports the resilience and recovery of people experiencing mental illness.” Or as BB puts it, the CMHA is one of the “seemingly more benign organizations … \[that\] receive huge funding from the state to do its bidding, and as such, constitute an integral part of the ruling regime.”
For what it’s worth, I was expecting “biopsychosocial” to not appear in PBM at all.
Mental Health Navigator
Online home of Your Mental Health Repair Manual. Help for those frustrated trying to find good mental health care.
We’ll help you learn more about your illness and treatments, and show you practical ways to more actively participate in your own care, and help you get better faster.
Here in Canada, as elsewhere, there’s suddenly a lot of new programs for “mental health” being announced. Typically, these are online mindfulness or CBT courses, lists of ways to relax, calming mantras, or something similar. These programs are helpful to some, particularly those […]