“Things fall apart of their own accord, but the sins of men speed their deterioration.” This quote from Jordan B. Peterson, the renowned psychologist, sets a stage that resonates deeply when considering his personal struggles, particularly his experience with benzodiazepines. Peterson, celebrated for his self-help books like 12 Rules for Life and Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life, presents himself as a guide to navigate the complexities of modern life. Beyond Order, intended to explore the balance between security and chaos, ironically coincided with a period of intense personal turmoil for Peterson, largely due to his reliance on and subsequent withdrawal from benzodiazepines, commonly known as benzos.
The Health Storm Before Beyond Order
Peterson’s Beyond Order was conceived and written during a period he describes as being overshadowed by significant health challenges within his family. These included his wife Tammy’s battle with kidney cancer and his daughter Mikhaila’s ankle surgery. Adding to this family distress, Peterson himself began experiencing severe health issues, triggered, as he recounts, by an autoimmune reaction around Christmas 2016. He described debilitating anxiety and a constant sensation of cold, leading to a benzodiazepine prescription in early 2017.
It’s noteworthy that prior to this, Peterson had been on serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) like Celexa for nearly two decades, which he credited with positive effects. However, he discontinued these in early 2016, believing dietary changes had made them unnecessary. This context is crucial as it sets the stage for his introduction to benzodiazepines, initially considered by him to be “a relatively harmless substance,” and his subsequent three-year usage.
However, the benign perception shifted dramatically in March 2019 when his wife’s health crisis escalated. Amidst the stress of Tammy’s medical battles and Mikhaila’s hospitalization, Peterson’s anxiety intensified. Seeking relief, he requested his physician to increase his benzodiazepine dosage. Unfortunately, this adjustment backfired, exacerbating his negative emotions. In a sequence of events, he further increased the dosage, mistakenly attributing his escalating anxiety to his wife’s ongoing surgeries, rather than recognizing a paradoxical reaction to the medication itself.
Within a mere three months, Peterson escalated his benzodiazepine intake twice before abruptly stopping in May 2019. Seeking alternative solutions, he experimented with ketamine, a non-standard anesthetic sometimes used for depression. However, two ketamine sessions provided no relief, only intensifying feelings of guilt and shame. This rapid succession of medication adjustments and interventions—benzodiazepine escalation, abrupt cessation, and ketamine use—all under medical supervision, raises questions about the approach taken during his health crisis.
The potential dangers of psychiatric drugs, particularly benzodiazepines, are well-documented. The FDA has even updated benzodiazepine labeling to include warnings about abuse, addiction, and serious risks. The narrative takes a critical turn when considering the abrupt cessation of benzodiazepines.
Shortly after his ketamine experiences, Peterson began to experience the severe repercussions of acute benzodiazepine withdrawal. He described experiencing unprecedented anxiety, uncontrollable restlessness known as akathisia, self-destructive thoughts, and a complete absence of joy. It was a family friend, a physician, who illuminated the grave risks of sudden benzodiazepine withdrawal, prompting Peterson to reinstate a lower dose of benzodiazepines to mitigate the agonizing symptoms. He also started an antidepressant, which, instead of alleviating his distress, led to excessive sleepiness and increased appetite, further complicating his already challenging situation during his wife’s health struggles.
The fact that a family friend, rather than his physician or psychiatrist, had to inform Peterson about the dangers of benzodiazepine withdrawal is alarming. This oversight, or lack of communication, from medical professionals entrusted with his care raises serious concerns about the standard of care received during this critical period.
For approximately three months, Peterson endured severe anxiety, hypersomnia, akathisia, and extreme appetite fluctuations. Seeking specialized help, he traveled to an American clinic claiming expertise in rapid benzodiazepine withdrawal, staying there from mid-August to late November. Upon returning to Toronto, his akathisia worsened, rendering him unable to sit or rest comfortably.
The following month saw Peterson admitted to a local hospital. Dissatisfied with the treatment he received, and believing it was causing more harm, Peterson, with the support of his daughter and son-in-law, moved to an intensive care unit in Moscow in January 2020. He recounts limited memory of this period, further complicated by a diagnosis of double pneumonia, which was discovered and treated only in the Moscow ICU. The primary reason for his transfer to Moscow was to undergo benzodiazepine withdrawal using a procedure considered too risky or unknown in North America. Unable to tolerate any dosage reduction after the initial decrease months prior, the Moscow clinic placed Peterson in a medically induced coma for nine days, starting January 5, to manage the peak withdrawal symptoms. During this time, his breathing was mechanically regulated. Upon awakening on January 14, he reportedly indicated to Mikhaila that his akathisia had subsided, though he himself has no recollection of this.
Post-coma, Peterson was transferred to another ICU specializing in neurological rehabilitation, followed by a move to a rehabilitation center. Here, he faced the arduous task of relearning basic motor skills – walking, climbing stairs, dressing himself, typing – revealing the profound physical toll of his ordeal. He described a disconnect between perception and motor control, having to relearn how to coordinate his limbs with what he saw.
Following his time in rehabilitation, Peterson relocated to Florida to attempt weaning off the medications prescribed in Moscow. However, withdrawal symptoms persisted, leading him to revert to the dosages initially prescribed in Russia after approximately two months. Seeking a more effective approach, he then moved to a Serbian clinic that specialized in a novel method for benzodiazepine withdrawal.
Finally, in October 2020, Peterson announced his return to Toronto and improved health in a YouTube video titled ‘Return Home.’ While acknowledging ongoing health impairments, particularly in the mornings, he expressed his renewed ability and desire to work.
Rule III: The Irony of Fog and Benzodiazepines
In Beyond Order, Rule III, “Do Not Hide Unwanted Things in the Fog,” advocates for confronting and articulating difficult emotions. Peterson describes “the fog” as the avoidance of noticing and communicating emotions, warning that unaddressed feelings can accumulate and cause significant harm. He emphasizes the importance of admitting to and exploring uncomfortable feelings like anger, pain, loneliness, and anxiety, despite the inherent discomfort and vulnerability involved.
Considering Peterson’s own “hellish withdrawal episode,” as he terms it, this rule presents a stark and unsettling irony. Did Peterson truly “dig down into the depths of his pain and grief and guilt” during his health crisis? His public account largely focuses on the medical interventions – benzodiazepines, dosage escalations, ketamine, coma – with minimal insight into the emotional and psychological processes he underwent. We know he consulted with medical professionals and relied heavily on pharmaceuticals to manage his anxiety, but there’s a conspicuous absence of discussion about therapeutic or introspective approaches.
Was he in therapy during this period? Did he engage in journaling, exercise, or spiritual practices? These crucial aspects of emotional processing and coping are not mentioned in his account. This omission is particularly striking given the direct relevance to Rule III. This period of intense personal struggle would have been an opportune moment for Peterson to reflect on his own experiences in relation to his advocated principles, yet this connection remains unexplored in Beyond Order.
Peterson further elaborates on Rule III, urging readers to “Admit to your feelings,” not as succumbing to them, but as a necessary step towards understanding and addressing their root causes. He acknowledges the difficulty in admitting uncomfortable feelings, as it reveals vulnerability and potential misinterpretations of situations. He cautions against assuming one’s feelings are accurately reflecting reality and encourages seeking truth to “disperse the fog” and confront potential dangers, whether real or imagined.
However, the question remains: how does relying on benzodiazepines and ketamine align with “dispersing the fog?” This is not intended as a dismissive critique, but rather a genuine inquiry into the apparent disconnect between Peterson’s self-help philosophy and his personal choices during a crisis. His passionate advocacy for confronting one’s demons, without explicitly addressing his own reliance on pharmacological interventions, creates a perception of lacking self-awareness and represents a missed opportunity to deeply connect with his readers on a vulnerable, relatable level. By omitting a self-reflective analysis of his own coping mechanisms, Peterson’s message, while potentially valuable, risks appearing detached from the lived experience of those grappling with similar struggles.
Peterson emphasizes the need to confront life’s challenges and strive for improvement, regardless of personal burdens or perceived unfairness. He warns that avoiding necessary self-confrontation only deepens problems. He also stresses the importance of learning from the past to avoid repeating mistakes, advocating for understanding not just what happened, but why.
Applying this to his benzodiazepine experience, the critical question becomes: why did Peterson resort to anti-anxiety medication as a primary coping mechanism? This isn’t to judge his decision as inherently wrong, but to seek understanding of his thought process, especially given his current advice. Would he, in retrospect, make the same choices? Would he still recommend psychiatric drugs to others, as he has in past lectures? Beyond Order leaves these crucial questions unanswered, creating a gap between his prescriptive rules and his personal narrative.
A Word of Caution About Psychiatry
Interestingly, Beyond Order does include a warning about psychiatry, albeit tucked away in the notes section. Peterson advises caution to those seeking mental health help, particularly in large city clinics. He suggests avoiding casual mentions of “odd experiences or beliefs” to psychiatrists, fearing misdiagnosis, specifically of schizophrenia. He cautions that a schizophrenia diagnosis, once established, can be difficult to overturn and can lead to undue scrutiny and the dismissal of displays of normality.
Expanding upon Peterson’s warning, it’s crucial to recognize the potential for psychiatric diagnoses to become indelible “medical brands.” As others have argued, interactions with psychiatrists can, in some ways, resemble interactions with law enforcement – what is said can be used against you. While diagnoses may offer a sense of understanding or answer, they can also be inaccurate and lead to a self-perpetuating cycle where both the presence and absence of certain behaviors are interpreted as confirmation of the diagnosed disorder.
This phenomenon raises concerns about the very validity of psychiatric diagnoses. While acknowledging that some individuals do experience genuine psychotic breaks, the diagnostic criteria for conditions like schizophrenia and other psychiatric disorders are often criticized as arbitrary and lacking in empirical, objective validation. These “disorders” are arguably constructed and categorized rather than discovered as distinct, falsifiable diseases with clear biological markers. In essence, the diagnostic process can become a subjective judgment, heavily reliant on the clinician’s interpretation.
The Misleading Insulin Analogy
Further complicating the discussion around psychiatric medication is Peterson’s use of a flawed analogy. In a 2017 lecture, he compared taking antidepressants for depression to taking insulin for diabetes. This analogy, often repeated by both laypersons and experts, is misleading because it fundamentally misrepresents the nature of depression and the mechanism of antidepressants.
Unlike diabetes, depression lacks objective laboratory tests. There is no blood test to measure serotonin levels and definitively diagnose depression. Consequently, there’s no objective way to measure the impact of SSRIs on neurotransmitter levels in the same way insulin levels are tracked in diabetes management. Taking SSRIs is, therefore, not a targeted correction of a measurable imbalance, but rather an empirical approach with uncertain outcomes. Any perceived positive effects of antidepressants may, in many cases, be attributed to the placebo effect – the powerful influence of expectation on mood and well-being.
Beyond Order: More Rules, More Questions?
This is not the first time Peterson’s work has faced critical scrutiny. His previous book, 12 Rules for Life, was critiqued for its parenting advice, particularly Rule 5, which appeared to endorse corporal punishment, a stance not supported by empirical evidence and arguably hypocritical given his emphasis on rules and conduct for children.
Does Beyond Order fare better? Peterson doesn’t revise his previous parenting advice, suggesting continued support for physical punishment. Similar to 12 Rules, Beyond Order presents factual claims without adequate evidence, such as assertions about “schizophrenics” based on “odd beliefs.” While the book contains moments of insightful commentary, these are often embedded within a disjointed and somewhat incoherent narrative.
In conclusion, while Beyond Order may resonate with existing fans, it’s unlikely to significantly expand Peterson’s readership. The book missed a crucial opportunity to bridge the gap between Peterson’s personal journey and his publicly espoused rules for life. By failing to integrate his benzodiazepine experience into the framework of Beyond Order, the book leaves readers questioning the practical application and personal relevance of his advice. This omission undermines the book’s potential impact and leaves the reader unsure whether the author himself fully embodies the principles he advocates.
Despite these shortcomings, Beyond Order inadvertently serves as a valuable cautionary tale regarding psychiatric medication. Whether intentionally or not, Peterson’s narrative highlights the potential dangers and complexities associated with drugs like benzodiazepines, including a range of harmful side effects and the lack of evidence supporting their purported ability to correct brain imbalances.
The use of the term “drugs” to describe these substances is deliberate and reflects a growing perspective that challenges the purely medicinal framing of psychiatric medications. As numerous experts argue, viewing these substances as curative medications is a mischaracterization. Therefore, a critical and cautious approach to psychiatric drugs is warranted, recognizing that healthcare providers, including doctors and psychiatrists, may not possess comprehensive knowledge of the risks involved. Peterson’s benzo crisis, as recounted in the context of Beyond Order, underscores the importance of informed consent, careful consideration, and a more holistic understanding of mental health challenges that extends beyond pharmaceutical interventions.
