Monday, December 24, 2012

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas. I love you all.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Not posting but always here

I always post once a month but I didn't post on November. But I'm here and will always be.
I'm just dealing with some issues.
Be at peace.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Frustration: Nothing changed

When I started this blog I had a little hope that with all the data brought up by bloggers, lawyers, psychiatrists, journalists and patients something was going to happen.

They are still drugging people and, appalling, children.
I'm very sad.

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Children's mood swing

The only acceptable diagnose to children.
Have a great Sunday!

Monday, August 20, 2012

"All We Have to Fear" another book about Psychiatry's criminal practice

There are already so many books exposing the absurd way that psychiatry is being done that it's amazing that some people have not a clue about it all.
Maybe people don't have the habit of going to bookstores or if they do they go straight to the best-sellers shelves.

The LA Review of Books has published this article about "All we Have to Fear: Psychiatry's Transformation of Natural Anxieties into Mental Disorders" by Allan V. Horwitz  PhD and Jerome Wakefield PhD:

Psychiatry’s legitimacy crisis
By Andrew Scull, LA Review of Books~

"ABOUT 40 YEARS AGO, American psychiatry faced an escalating crisis of legitimacy. All sorts of evidence suggested that, when confronted with a particular patient, psychiatrists could not reliably agree as to what, if anything, was wrong. To be sure, the diagnostic process in all areas of medicine is far more murky and prone to error than we like to think, but in psychiatry the situation was — and indeed still is — a great deal more fraught, and the murkiness more visible. It didn’t help that psychiatry’s most prominent members purported to treat illness with talk therapy and stressed the central importance of early childhood sexuality for adult psychopathology. In this already less-than-tidy context, the basic uncertainty regarding how to diagnose what was wrong with a patient was potentially explosively destabilizing.

The modern psychopharmacological revolution began in 1954 with the introduction of Thorazine, hailed as the first “anti-psychotic.” It was followed in short order by so-called “minor tranquilizers:” Miltown, and then drugs like Valium and Librium. The Rolling Stones famously sang of “mother’s little helper,” which enabled the bored housewife to get through to her “busy dying day.” Mother’s helper had a huge potential market. Drug companies, however, were faced with a problem. As each company sought its own magic potion, it encountered a roadblock of sorts: its psychiatric consultants were unable to deliver homogeneous populations of test subjects suffering from the same diagnosed illness in the same way. Without breaking the amorphous catchall of “mental disturbance” into defensible sub-sets, the drug companies could not develop the data they needed to acquire licenses to market the new drugs.

In a Cold War context, much was being made about the way the Soviets were stretching the boundaries of mental illness to label dissidents as mad in order to incarcerate and forcibly medicate them. But Western critics also began to look askance at their own shrinks and to allege that the psychiatric emperor had no clothes. A renegade psychiatrist called Thomas Szasz published a best-selling broadside called The Myth of Mental Illness, suggesting that psychiatrists were pernicious agents of social control who locked up inconvenient people on behalf of a society anxious to be rid of them, invoking an illness label that had the same ontological status as the label “witch” employed some centuries before. Illness, he truculently insisted, was a purely biological thing, a demonstrable part of the natural world. Mental illness was a misplaced metaphor, a socially constructed way of permitting an ever-wider selection of behaviors to be forcibly controlled under the guise of helping people.

The problem was exacerbated when some psychiatrists sought to examine the diagnostic process. Their findings dramatically reinforced the growing suspicion that their profession’s claims to expertise were spurious. Prominent figures like Aaron Beck, Robert Spitzer, MG. Sandifer and Benjamin Pasamanick published systematic data that dramatized just how tenuous agreement was among psychiatrists, even the most prominent ones, regarding the nature of psychiatric pathology; consensus barely exceeded 50 percent whether the subjects were patients in state hospitals or out-patient settings. And in 1972, a systematic study of diagnostic practices in Britain and the United States found massive differences: New York psychiatrists diagnosed nearly 62 percent of their patients as schizophrenic, while in London only 34 percent received this diagnosis. And, while less than five percent of the New York patients were diagnosed with depressive psychoses, the comparable figure in London was 24 percent. Further examination of the patients suggested that these differences were byproducts of the preferences and prejudices of each group of psychiatrists, and yet they resulted in consequential differences in treatment.

Nor was this chaotic situation hidden from a larger public. In the legal profession, the civil rights movement of the 1960s led to the emergence of public interest law. A number of these attorneys broadened their focus from race to include other stigmatized and disadvantaged populations. By the early seventies, this led to the creation of a mental health bar, two of whose prominent practitioners seized on the results reported in these studies. They intimated that psychiatrists should no longer be credited with the status of “expert witnesses,” since their judgments amounted to “flipping coins in the courtroom,” as they put it. Shortly thereafter, a cleverly designed study by a Stanford social psychologist, David Rosenhan, appearing in the august pages of Science, poured gasoline on the flames. Rosenhan had eight pseudo-patients (including himself) show up at a dozen psychiatric hospitals complaining they were hearing voices and uttering the words “empty,” “hollow,” or “thud.” The so-called patients otherwise presented their normal selves. Seven received the diagnosis of schizophrenia, the eighth was labeled manic-depressive, and all were hospitalized for terms as long as 52 days. The article garnered massive media coverage, made Rosenhan a star and made of psychiatry a hapless buffoon.

To address the embarrassment, one of the profession’s internal critics, Robert Spitzer of Columbia University, persuaded the American Psychiatric Association to authorize the development of a new diagnostic manual. The document he and his Task Force produced, approved and published in slightly modified form in 1980 as the third edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of the American Psychiatric Association (DSM III for short) launched a revolution in American psychiatry whose effects are still felt today. Versions III R (revised), IV, and IV TR (text revision) and DSM 5 (to be released in 2013) have been produced with numbing regularity. The advent of DSM III and its descendants constitute the backdrop to the argument presented in the new book by Allan Horwitz and Jerome Wakefield, All We Have to Fear: Psychiatry’s Transformation of Natural Anxieties into Mental Disorders.        

Horwitz and Wakefield want to argue for the harmful impact of what is often called the neo-Kraepelinian revolution in psychiatry. Emil Kraepelin was the fin-de-siècle German psychiatrist who launched the fashion for descriptive psychopathology and first made the distinction between dementia praecox and manic-depressive illness. Horwitz and Wakefield suggest that the efforts of Kraepelin’s late-twentieth century successors to make psychiatric diagnoses more rigorous and predictable have instead enabled psychiatric pathology to get out of hand. They identify two problems: the psychiatric profession’s obsession with simplistic, symptom-based diagnoses, and the looseness of its criteria for defining mental states as pathology. All sorts of anxieties that are in reality part of the normal range of human emotion and experience have been transformed by professional sleight of hand into diseases. The upshot, they contend, is that whereas thirty years ago less than five percent of Americans were thought to suffer from an anxiety disorder, nowadays some widely cited epidemiological studies have decreed that as many as 50 percent of us do so.

Horwitz and Wakefield are scarcely the first scholars to suggest that rising rates of mental illness are a reflection of the widening and loosening of diagnostic schema. Three decades ago, the British psychiatrist Edward Hare and I engaged in a vigorous debate on this issue in the pages of the British Journal of Psychiatry. He argued that the growing number of lunatics in Victorian museums of madness were victims of a new viral disease, schizophrenia, and I countered that it was more probable that other factors were at work — namely, the amorphousness of nineteenth century definitions of madness, the decreasing willingness and ability of families to cope with difficult or impossible relations, and the eagerness of psychiatrists to enlarge their sphere of operations. Of more contemporary relevance, a range of commentators have noticed the explosive growth of depression as a diagnosis, to the point where it is now frequently termed ‘the common cold’ of psychiatry; the equally dramatic expansion in the number of children being diagnosed with ADHD; the appearance out of nowhere of juvenile bipolar disorder, which apparently became forty times as common between 1994 and 2004; the epidemic of autism, a formerly rare condition afflicting less than one in five hundred children in 1990, which has now mushroomed into a disease found in one in every ninety children. More than a few scholars have been tempted to attribute these seismic shifts not to any real alteration in the numbers of sufferers from these disorders, but to disease-mongering by the psychiatric profession and by Big Pharma, the multi-national pharmaceutical industry that obtains a huge fraction of its profits from the sale of drugs aimed at mental disorders of all sorts.

Among the most zealous critics of the expanding psychiatric empire have been two unlikely souls: Robert Spitzer, the principal architect of DSM III, and Allen Frances, who played a similarly large role in the construction of DSM IV. As the latest edition of that tome, the largest thus far and the most delayed, struggles to be born, those assembling it have been assaulted by Spitzer and Frances for creating a version built on hasty and unscientific foundations; they claim it pathologizes everyday features of normal human existence, and that, like its predecessors, it will create new epidemics of spurious psychiatric illness. Allen Frances, in particular, has taken to uttering frequent mea culpas, taking the blame for loosening the criteria for diagnosing autism in DSM IV, and thus, so he claims, sowing fear and mislabeling thousands and thousands of children.

Before focusing on Horwitz and Wakefield’s contribution to this debate, it is worth acknowledging that Spitzer and Frances’s claims have proven to be highly controversial. Not unexpectedly, given the huge revenue the American Psychiatric Association rakes in from each edition of its manual, and the centrality of that book’s place to psychiatry’s claims to be a science, the oligarchs who run its operations have been swift to condemn the renegades. The oligarchs have launched a series of ad hominem attacks on the renegades’ motives and on the nature of their criticisms. Interestingly, equally fierce if not fiercer reactions have been manifested from an entirely different source: the relatives of those who have been diagnosed with ailments whose boundaries Spitzer and Frances want to shrink. Particularly vocal in online discussions have been the parents of children diagnosed with autism, for whom the loss of the label will mean being deprived of social services and support that is conditional on retaining that status. At times, the vituperation that has rained down on Frances’s head has been extraordinary — and indeed it’s hard not to form a mental image of families all across the country sticking pins into a Frances voodoo doll. Whatever other lessons are derived from this state of affairs, one point should be obvious: It is not just professional imperialism on the part of psychiatrists, nor the greedy machinations of Big Pharma, that explains the burgeoning problem of mental disorder in early twenty-first century America. And a burgeoning problem it is. To cite just one statistic[EM1] , one in every 76 Americans in 2007 qualified for welfare payments based on mental disability. As we examine Horwitz and Wakefield’s work on anxiety disorders, it is therefore important to bear in mind that theirs is just one piece of a larger puzzle. Indeed, the same authors have already examined another example of this phenomenon, the medicalization of sadness, and its transformation into pathology.

Horwitz and Wakefield rightly place the DSM in its various post-1980 incarnations at the center of their explanation of how we are to account for the massive growth in the numbers of people diagnosed with pathological anxiety. DSM III “solved” the legitimacy crisis that psychiatry faced in the late 1970s. As long as one employed its methods and categories, high levels of agreement among psychiatrists confronting the same case were all but assured. In that sense, psychiatric diagnosis became, as statisticians would put it, more reliable. How was that feat accomplished? By rendering the diagnostic process mechanical, employing a tick-the-boxes approach to deciding whether or not someone had a mental disorder, and if so, what disorder it was. Display any six out of ten symptoms, and voilà, a schizophrenic. Tick another set of boxes and you had General Anxiety Disorder (GAD), and so forth. A given patient might potentially have several “illnesses” at once, a problem alleviated by setting up a hierarchy of psychiatric diseases and awarding patients the most serious of them, or by creating a category called “co-morbidity” and thereby accepting the presence of multiple illnesses. The overlap in symptomatology between two schizophrenics with the “same” disease might be as few as two out of ten symptoms.

Why is psychiatry forced to rely on a grab bag of symptoms to make its diagnoses? Because, fundamentally, it has nothing else to offer. The cause of the overwhelming majority of psychiatric disorders remains as obscure as ever. Periodic weightless claims, endorsed by credulous science journalists, that schizophrenia is triggered by a newly discovered gene or by a dopamine deficiency in the brain, or that people suffering from depression have a shortage of serotonin, which can be reversed by taking a Selective Seratonin Reuptake Inhibitor (SSRI) such as Prozac to immerse their synapses in a serotonin bath, are so much biobabble ­­­— scientific nonsense that has proved good marketing copy for Big Pharma but is otherwise worthless.

This reliance on symptoms, and on the simplistic approach of counting symptoms to make a diagnosis, creates a bogus confidence in psychiatric science. Such categories have an element of the arbitrary about them. When Robert Spitzer and his associates created DSM III, they liked to call themselves DOPs (data-oriented persons). In fact, DSM’s categories were assembled through political horse-trading and internal votes and compromise. The document they produced paid little heed to the question of validity, or to whether the new system of categorizing mental disorders corresponded to real diseases out there. And subsequent revisions have hewed to the same approach. With the single exception of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), which, as its name implies, is a diagnosis having its origins in trauma of an extreme sort, the various categories in the DSM, including the anxiety disorders that preoccupy Horwitz and Wakefield, are purely symptom-based. (The construction of the PTSD diagnosis, incidentally, as the authors show, was every bit as political as the creation of the other DSM categories.) Because so much depends on the wording that describes the symptoms to be looked for and on how many symptoms one needs to display to warrant a particular diagnosis (why do six symptoms make a schizophrenic, not five, or seven?), small shifts in terminology can have huge real-world effects. The problem is magnified in studies of the epidemiology of psychiatric disorders. As Horwitz and Wakefield point out, to make studies of this sort cheaper and allow those producing them to employ laypeople to administer the necessary instruments, the diagnostic process is simplified even further in these settings. They write that psychiatric epidemiologists make “no attempt to establish the context in which worries arise, endure, and disappear so as to separate contextually appropriate anxiety from disordered anxiety conditions [and thus they] can uncover as much seeming psycho-pathology as they desire.”

By contrast, at least initially, psychiatrists were expected to exercise some independent clinical judgment when reaching their professional judgments. Being anxious and fearful is, under some circumstances, a natural and healthy human response to the world. How are we to distinguish between healthy or normal fears — perhaps even fears that are exaggerated but had their origins in an earlier period of our evolutionary history — and pathological forms of anxiety? Allow too much room for clinical judgment and the goal of standardizing psychiatric diagnosis goes away. Eliminate it and the anxieties that people naturally feel when they’ve survived a bad marriage, recovered from a serious disease, or lived through a war or a disaster like Katrina, are all-too-readily relabeled as illness. DSM attempted to cope with this problem by insisting that the anxiety had to be “excessive” and “prolonged,” six months in duration or longer, and to be perceived as “abnormal” or disabling by those subject to these emotions. These are inadequate and fallible correctives, but they did something to make it less likely that normal people would be called “mentally ill.” As the manual went through successive editions, however, and as its categories were simplified to make the job of epidemiologists easier and cheaper, the effect, as Horwitz and Wakefield argue, was steadily to enlarge the numbers of ordinary people drawn into the ranks of the mentally unstable, often to a spectacular degree. And because of the seemingly scientific basis of the labels, the consistency with which cases were diagnosed, and the translation of human judgment by means of this verbal alchemy into statistics, the multiplication of the anxious and nervous (as with other psychiatric categories) has proceeded in relentless fashion.

Through detailed analyses of the underlying terminological changes and their effects, Horwitz and Wakefield show how “social phobia” multiplied six-fold in the course of a decade. They document a similar pattern with PTSD, with Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD), and a whole variety of other anxiety disorders. Less satisfactorily, they make some attempt to link these developments to issues of professional imperialism, the financial interests of Big Pharma, and even the demands of patients and more especially of patients’ families, for whom a particular diagnosis may be the sine qua non of obtaining access to insurance payments and other forms of social support. Two other critics of the DSM, Kutchins and Kirk, have suggested that the looseness of its categories means that “the prevalence rates in the United States will rise and fall as erratically as the stock market.” To this comment, Horwitz and Wakefield add a rueful and all-too-accurate coda: “Kutchins and Kirk are only half correct. Prevalence rates in recent epidemiological studies go in only one direction: upward.”

All We Have to Fear is nonetheless a curate’s egg of a book. There are good bits and bad bits. Horwitz and Wakefield manage to make a strong case for the prosecution: Psychiatry has indeed lost its way and seems increasingly unable to resist pathologizing ordinary life. But before the reader gets to that case, he or she will have to plow through the seemingly endless and tedious pages of evolutionary psychology that make up the key sections of the book’s first three chapters. Here one finds claims about genetic endowments that were built into human beings at the time of cave-men and hunter-gathers, and persist as part of our mental constitution. These inheritances from the past are invoked to explain our contemporary fears and anxieties, even ones of quite specific sorts. The alleged features of normal human nature and the supposed hold our genes have over our behavior are as speculative as most neuro-maniacal accounts of modern man. More importantly, they are unnecessary, and get in the way of an argument that depends on no more than the self-evident proposition that all of us experience fears and anxieties, which are intensified in certain social situations and by large-scale trauma, but which cannot be termed “mental illnesses.”

Even setting that objection aside, the remainder of the book is heavy-going. Much of the discussion is wandering and repetitive. The same arguments are mobilized again and again, moving across only slightly varied terrain. What could have been a long article thus becomes a book of sorts — one that many readers will have trouble finishing. This is too bad, because contemporary psychiatry is on the brink of one of those periodic crises of legitimacy that have been so notable a feature of the profession’s history over the past couple of centuries; the story Horwitz and Wakefield recount helps us to understand one of the reasons why renewed turmoil threatens to engulf the psychiatric enterprise."

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Be at peace

May we all have peace in our heart.

Saturday, May 05, 2012

FDA to approve buying Rx drugs without prescription

"The FDA says over-the-counter distribution would let patients get drugs for many common conditions without the time and expense of visiting a doctor, but medical providers call the change medically unsound and note that it also may mean that insurance no longer will pay for the drugs.
“The problem is medicine is just not that simple,” said Dr. Matthew Mintz, an internist at George Washington University Hospital. “You can’t just follow rules and weigh all the pros and cons. It needs to be individualized.”
Under the changes that the agency is considering, patients could diagnose their ailments by answering questions online or at a pharmacy kiosk in order to buy current prescription-only drugs for conditions such as high cholesterol, certain infections, migraine headaches, asthma or allergies."
Whole article The Washington Times.

Of course that physicians will hate the idea of not receiving money for numerous consults they receive just to give the prescription.

Nothing was said about psychiatric drugs and they will never accept that one or two days without taking one of these drugs can cause severe withdrawal symptoms since they claim that there is not such a thing as withdrawal symptom. "It is all in your head." "It is psychological."

Drugs like Seroquel that is used by criminals to rape but causes withdrawal symptoms for those who have been prescribed will be a good excuse not to sell them OTC event though they are on the criminals's possession now that the prescription is required.

It would be a relief not to have to pay to have a prescriptions. After all these drugs are highly expensive.

Thursday, April 05, 2012

Jim Gottstein fighting to stop the drugging of children

At the video Jim Gottstein, PsychiatryRights, discuss the psychiatric drugging of children and youth.
Drugging the children and teenagers is the most heinous crime that medicine is committing.

Monday, March 05, 2012

Charles Medawar talk in 2008 Adverse Psychiatric Side-effects Conference

"Charles MEDAWAR Co-founded Social Audit Ltd in 1972, aiming to develop and apply methodologies for social accounting; now a specialist on medicines policy and drug safety issues and on matters of corporate, governmental and professional accountability relating thereto."

Always doing brilliant remarks Charles Medawar raises many issues.
Sometimes it is amazing that what those who are explaining the harms that medicine is promoting have to explain some obvious facts.
I just think that Medawar is very kind to doctors. 

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Feb. 7, 2004 In memory of Traci Johnson - Cymbalta victim

This is the forth year I publish this post at the same date.
Traci Johnson, a healthy volunteer, joined Cymbalta's Eli-Lilly urinary incontinence clinical trial in early January, 2004 in a clinic at Indiana University Medical Center.
In February, 7 her body was found. She hung herself with a scarf from a shower rod at Eli-Lily's facilities.

I added her picture at the right-top.

........................................................................RIP Traci Johnson (your candle is still burning)

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Psychiatric drug-induced suicide attempt: how to differentiate real suicide from drug-induced (repost)

"Drug-induced suicide ideation should be explained by those who are in charge of taking care of heath. However little is said about this fact that has been experienced by many people. I'm reposting it because some people can doubt that what they are feeling is really drug-induced.
There is a huge difference between wanting to die and just the act of killing oneself that is planted in the mind when we are dealing with drug-induced suicidal ideation. Trust your instincts and, please, search for help if you feel you are suicidal because of an antidepressant or any other drug.
This is my experience and I only published to make others understand that drug-induced suicidal ideation is REAL!I didn't write about the second because it is too hard.

"One of the strange feelings when someone or something do you harm is the mixture of feelings you have towards yourself. You feel as if it was your fault and you feel ashamed to tell others what has happened. Of course there is anger towards what did you harm but it's usual that people don't tell others about it.
We remain silent and hoping that someone else suffers the same and have the guts to tell others.
I said that I had suicidal ideation while tapering Effexor. What I didn't say is that I've tried to kill myself twice. I thought about it on a wide scale of degrees. Four times it was very hard to cope with it and for two times I've tried.
I'll tell you about one of these times.
I was in a normal day, tapering Effexor. All of a sudden, an idea was planted in my brain: "-I have to kill myself." Just like that. Unexpectedly, no reason for it, I was happy and then this idea appeared.
You don't think about anything else. You only think that you have to kill yourself. I wrote some notes for four people, and was thinking at the back of my mind: "-This is withdrawal, this is withdrawal, this is withdrawal…; call your therapist, call a friend, do something!"
Strangely enough you don't call anybody. You do not care. All you have to do is… kill yourself.
I have a dog. So I could not do anything at home for I could not harm her or make something that could kill her, like gas - my second attempt was with gas -, and you keep on wandering how are you going to do it without making any fuss and avoiding the scandal of being found dead in your place. Good, at least there's room to think about a dignified exit!
I had many samples of psychiatric drugs, drugs that I tried, and, at the forth pill had to stop… I had an arsenal of psychiatric drugs of many kinds.
Therefore, I took them all and put them in two bottles of Depakote - by that time it was sold in bottles not in blister. "-It's withdrawal, it's withdrawal, it's withdrawal… do something; call someone; call your therapist, please!" "-Nope! I have to kill myself."
I've phoned a hotel and ask for a bedroom. I've dressed myself with care and took a big bag pretending to be coming from a near town. I have put some clothes in this bag and a bottle of Jack Daniels to have the pills, Rohypnol was in the cocktail which is very helpful and was once used by the site Exit . They used to sell a packed for those who wanted to do euthanasia and I've discovered that one of the three items was Rohypnol. They are back now but with another proposal.
"-It's withdrawal, it's withdrawal, it's withdrawal… do something; call someone; call your therapist, please!" "-Nope! I have to kill myself."
It was 9 pm. I went away from my building, took a cab, and told the driver to go to the hotel. He left me there.
When I was in front of the hotel, I felt thirsty and did not want to appear as if I was out of my mind. I went to a place and asked for a bottle of water.
I thought that the man could not hear me. By miracle, he gave me the bottle of water. I took it and, miracle, I've paid for this and he smiled at me. He smiled at me!
So people could see me! "-It's withdrawal, it's withdrawal, it's withdrawal… do something; call someone; call your therapist, please…
Isn't it good!
I'm alive! I started walking. I've walked, walked, walked, and started to sweat.
Nice feeling! I was sweating and feeling all my body, my legs, my arms, my head, my hands, my toes…
"-It's withdrawal, it's withdrawal, it's withdrawal…"
What am I doing here? Why will I kill myself? I don't want to kill myself.
My dog is home! She must be feeling sad. I have to go back home to see her and call my friends and family."

"I want to thank Charles Medawar, SocialAudit. There was a man on his site whose nick was "Anon". He helped everybody and one of the things I've remembered was he saying that we should never become a statistics and if we killed ourselves "they" were winning another time.
He said other valuable things that was on my mind beside the "-It's withdrawal..."
Fortunately I don't remember anymore and I'm glad to be able to talk about it without crying and now I am feeling that it's in the past.
The only thing I fear is that even spending 19 months tapering Efexor when I reached the end of the process I felt so bad that I had to go back to the drug.
I'll talk about it later.
If I miss I pill I have nightmares. I fear missing the amount of dose and feel it again.
You can see that it's very easy to kill me if someone has the intention.
I also lost my freedom because I cannot make a trip or go anywhere without Effexor in my purse."

Update January, 6, 2011
I forgot to post about some violent behavior I had at that time. I wrote about my experiences at the first year I was blogging.
I don't feel like writing about it any longer. But I will do it if it helps people.
But those who come to this blog already know. So, it is almost useless. I gave up trying to raise awareness.
I'm trying to catch attention of those who profit from all of this.