“Things fall apart of their own accord, but the sins of men speed their deterioration.” – Jordan B. Peterson
Jordan B. Peterson, renowned psychologist, ventured into the complex territory of mental health and personal responsibility in his book, Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life, the sequel to his bestseller 12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos. Much like its predecessor, Beyond Order weaves together personal narratives, clinical insights, mythological interpretations, scientific findings, and religious texts. Its stated aim is to guide readers toward a more courageous, truthful, and meaningful existence, specifically exploring “how the dangers of too much security and control might be profitably avoided.” Ironically, Peterson’s own quest for emotional stability through medication led him into what can only be described as a chaotic and harrowing ordeal, a journey through what might be termed his personal “benzo room.”
This article delves into Peterson’s publicly documented health crisis, triggered by benzodiazepine use and withdrawal, as detailed in accounts surrounding Beyond Order. It examines this episode not only as a personal struggle but also as a stark illustration of the potential pitfalls of psychiatric medication, a topic often overshadowed in mainstream discussions of mental health. We will explore how Peterson’s experience, though intensely personal, raises broader questions about the nature of anxiety, the role of medication, and the importance of informed consent in mental healthcare.
The Descent into the Benzo Room: Peterson’s Health Crisis Unfolds
Peterson himself described writing Beyond Order during a period marked by “sequential and overlapping bouts of seriously impaired health” within his family. This included his wife Tammy’s battle with kidney cancer, his daughter Mikhaila’s ankle surgery, and his own escalating medical complications stemming from psychiatric drug use.
His health issues reportedly began in late 2016, following what he believed to be an autoimmune reaction. He recounted experiencing persistent and acute anxiety, coupled with a sensation of being constantly cold. In early 2017, a benzodiazepine was prescribed to alleviate these symptoms.
It’s important to note that prior to this, Peterson had been on selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) like Celexa for approximately two decades. He stated these medications were beneficial but decided to discontinue them in early 2016, believing dietary changes had made them unnecessary. This pre-existing history with psychiatric medication sets the stage for understanding his subsequent experience with benzodiazepines.
Initially, Peterson considered benzodiazepines, which he took for roughly three years, as “a relatively harmless substance.” However, the situation dramatically shifted in March 2019, coinciding with his wife’s serious illness. His anxiety intensified, particularly after his daughter’s hospitalization and surgery. Seeking relief, Peterson requested an increase in his benzodiazepine dosage from his family physician, aiming to manage his anxiety and avoid burdening his family.
Jordan Peterson’s book cover, Beyond Order: 12 More Rules for Life, hinting at themes of navigating chaos and order.
This decision, unfortunately, marked the beginning of a paradoxical reaction. Instead of calming his anxiety, the increased dosage exacerbated his negative emotions. Attributing this to the immense stress of his wife’s health crisis, Peterson requested a further dosage increase. His anxiety, however, continued to escalate. Unaware that he was experiencing a paradoxical reaction to the benzodiazepine, he attributed his worsening condition to a recurrence of depression. In May 2019, he abruptly ceased benzodiazepine use altogether.
Seeking alternative solutions, Peterson, under psychiatric consultation, tried ketamine, a non-standard anesthetic and psychedelic sometimes used for severe depression. He underwent two ketamine treatments within a week. Instead of relief, he reported experiencing intense negative trips, feeling overwhelming guilt and shame without any positive effects.
In a span of just three months, Peterson had doubled his benzodiazepine dosage, abruptly stopped, and then experimented with ketamine – all within a medical framework. While the immense personal stress he was under is undeniable, questions arise about the clinical management of his medication during this period.
The Harsh Realities of Benzo Withdrawal: A Descent into Akathisia
The consequences of abruptly discontinuing benzodiazepines soon became devastatingly clear. Days after his second ketamine experience, Peterson began experiencing acute benzodiazepine withdrawal. He described it as “truly intolerable—anxiety far beyond what I had ever experienced, an uncontrollable restlessness and need to move (formally known as akathisia), overwhelming thoughts of self-destruction, and the complete absence of any happiness whatsoever.”
It was a family friend, a physician, who alerted Peterson to the grave dangers of sudden benzodiazepine withdrawal. This revelation is particularly concerning given that neither his family physician nor his psychiatrist apparently warned him about this significant risk associated with abrupt cessation. He restarted benzodiazepines, albeit at a lower dose than he had reached, which provided some, but not complete, relief from his withdrawal symptoms. To manage the remaining symptoms, he also resumed an antidepressant that had previously been helpful. However, this only resulted in extreme fatigue, requiring significantly more sleep, and a substantial increase in appetite – hardly beneficial amidst his family crisis.
For approximately three months, Peterson endured “terrible anxiety, uncontrollable hypersomnia, viciously torturous akathisia, and excessive appetite.” Seeking specialized care, he traveled to an American clinic claiming expertise in rapid benzodiazepine withdrawal. He stayed there from mid-August to late November. Upon returning to Toronto, his akathisia, the debilitating movement disorder, had worsened to the point where he could not sit or rest comfortably in any position for any duration.
The following month, he was hospitalized locally. However, in January 2020, believing the hospital treatment was detrimental, Peterson’s daughter and her husband moved him to an intensive care unit in Moscow. He has limited memory of this period.
In Moscow, Peterson’s condition was further complicated by double pneumonia, which had developed in Canada but remained undiagnosed and untreated until his arrival in the Moscow ICU. His primary reason for being there, however, was to undergo benzodiazepine withdrawal using a procedure considered too risky or unknown in North America. Unable to tolerate any dosage reduction after his initial attempt months prior, the Moscow clinic placed him in a medically induced coma for nine days, starting January 5th, to mitigate the worst withdrawal symptoms. During this time, he was also placed on mechanical ventilation to regulate his breathing. Upon awakening from the coma on January 14th, he reportedly indicated to his daughter that the akathisia had subsided, although he has no recollection of this.
Following the coma, Peterson was transferred to another ICU specializing in neurological rehabilitation and then to a rehabilitation center. He had to relearn basic motor skills – walking, climbing stairs, buttoning clothes, even typing – indicating the profound neurological impact of his ordeal.
After a period in Florida attempting to wean off medication prescribed in Moscow, persistent withdrawal symptoms led him to return to the Moscow dosages. Finally, he sought treatment at a Serbian clinic employing a novel approach to benzodiazepine withdrawal.
In October 2020, Peterson announced his return home to Toronto in a YouTube video titled ‘Return Home,’ stating he was in “much better health,” though still impaired, particularly in the mornings, but able to work again.
Rule III and the Fog of Avoidance: A Disconnect?
In Beyond Order, Rule III is titled: “Do Not Hide Unwanted Things in the Fog.” Peterson describes this “fog” as the avoidance of noticing and communicating emotions and motivational states, both to oneself and to close relationships. He argues that negative emotions like bad moods, anxiety, or sadness are signals indicating something important that needs attention. He suggests that confronting and articulating these emotions, even if it leads to vulnerability and pain, is crucial.
Juxtaposing this rule with Peterson’s own benzodiazepine experience reveals a stark contrast. Did Peterson truly “dig down into the depths of [his] pain and grief and guilt” during his health crisis? His public account suggests a different approach – a reliance on medication to manage anxiety, escalating dosages, and ultimately, a harrowing withdrawal experience. There is no mention of therapy, journaling, exercise, or prayer as coping mechanisms during this intensely stressful period. This omission is striking, especially given the book’s emphasis on confronting difficult emotions.
Peterson elaborates on Rule III, urging readers to “Admit to your feelings,” acknowledging the difficulty in doing so due to embarrassment, perceived triviality, or fear of misplaced emotions. He emphasizes the importance of confronting feelings to discern truth, dispel the “fog,” and address potential dangers, whether real or imagined.
Jordan Peterson during a lecture, a setting where he often discusses complex psychological concepts and personal responsibility.
However, the question remains: how does relying on benzodiazepines and ketamine to manage anxiety align with “dispersing the fog”? This is not to suggest that seeking medical help is inherently wrong, but rather to highlight the apparent disconnect between Peterson’s stated rule and his personal approach during a significant emotional and health crisis. His fervent advocacy for confronting one’s demons, without explicitly referencing his own reliance on psychiatric medication, creates a sense of lacking self-awareness. It represents a missed opportunity to connect his personal struggles with the very principles he espouses in Beyond Order.
Peterson stresses the importance of facing life’s challenges “regardless of the burden you bear,” and understanding one’s personal history to avoid repeating mistakes. He equates experience to “gold in ore,” requiring effort and collaboration to extract wisdom. This wisdom, he argues, enables us to avoid past errors and replicate successes.
Therefore, the critical question becomes: why did Peterson initially turn to anti-anxiety medication, and why did the situation escalate as it did? This is not to judge his decision but to understand his thought process in light of his current teachings. Furthermore, it raises questions about his present perspective on psychiatric drugs. Would he, facing similar stressors today, again opt for psychiatric intervention? Would he still recommend psychiatric drugs to others, as he has in the past? These crucial reflections are notably absent from Beyond Order.
A Warning Buried in the Notes: Navigating Psychiatric Help
Beyond Order does contain a cautionary note regarding psychiatric help, albeit tucked away in the notes section, while discussing a clinical case of “schizophrenia.” Peterson advises caution when seeking mental health help in large city clinics, warning against casually mentioning unusual experiences or beliefs to psychiatrists who may spend limited time on assessments. He suggests that a diagnosis of schizophrenia can be easily acquired in overloaded mental health systems and is difficult to shed once established. He emphasizes the weight of a medical diagnosis, the challenge of disbelieving a “qualified psychiatrist,” and the permanence of such diagnoses in medical records.
Expanding on this, it’s argued that interactions with psychiatrists can be akin to interactions with law enforcement – potentially used against you. While diagnoses can offer a sense of comfort through answers, they can also become indelible “medical brands” leading to a double-bind where any behavior can be interpreted as further evidence of the disorder.
This critique extends beyond schizophrenia diagnoses to the broader validity of psychiatric diagnoses themselves, suggesting they are fundamentally arbitrary, invented, and not falsifiable. This perspective challenges the authority of psychiatric pronouncements and questions the very foundation of diagnostic criteria.
The Insulin Analogy and the Limits of Biological Psychiatry
Peterson’s apparent misgivings about benzodiazepines seem to coexist with a potentially uncritical view of other psychiatric drugs, particularly antidepressants. In a 2017 lecture, he compared taking antidepressants for depression to taking insulin for diabetes. This analogy, frequently used by both laypersons and experts, is fundamentally flawed.
Unlike diabetes, depression lacks objective laboratory tests. There is no blood test to measure serotonin levels in diagnosing depression. Consequently, assessing the effectiveness of SSRIs and similar antidepressants in correcting purported neurotransmitter imbalances is impossible. The mechanism of action and effectiveness often attributed to these drugs may be overstated, with placebo effects playing a significant role. The expectation of improvement from taking a pill can powerfully influence mood, potentially overshadowing the actual biochemical effects of the medication.
Beyond Order, Beyond Benzos: A Cautious Conclusion
Beyond Order, while offering valuable insights in some areas, falls short in others, particularly in integrating Peterson’s personal experiences with his stated rules for life. His benzodiazepine crisis, a deeply personal and impactful event, remains largely unexamined in the context of his own teachings. This omission weakens the book’s message and raises questions about the practical application of his principles, especially when navigating significant mental health challenges.
Despite these shortcomings, Peterson’s public struggle with benzodiazepine withdrawal inadvertently serves as a powerful cautionary tale. It highlights the often-underestimated risks associated with psychiatric medications, particularly benzodiazepines, and underscores the importance of informed consent and careful consideration before initiating or discontinuing such drugs. These substances, while sometimes necessary, are not without significant potential for harm, including sexual dysfunction, brain abnormalities, increased risk of suicide and violence, higher mortality rates, and neonatal complications.
Viewing these substances as mere “medications” that correct “imbalances” can be misleading. Many experts argue that they should more accurately be termed “drugs,” emphasizing their potential for altering brain function in ways that are not always predictable or beneficial in the long term. Therefore, approaching psychiatric medication requires extreme caution, recognizing that even well-intentioned medical professionals may not possess comprehensive knowledge of the risks involved.
Jordan Peterson’s “benzo room” experience, though fraught with suffering, offers a valuable, albeit unintended, lesson: navigating the complexities of mental health requires a multifaceted approach, one that acknowledges the limitations and potential harms of psychiatric medication alongside the importance of personal responsibility, emotional awareness, and informed decision-making.
