I had a terrible, dispiriting experience with Dr. Levine that set me back for years, as he talked me out of treatments that later saved my life. He once even let me wait while he talked on the phone with his stockbroker--I went upstairs from the waiting room to ask the front desk what was going on, and he had his door cracked; I heard him talking to his broker, not even caring if I heard (or assuming I was downstairs and couldn't overhear). He was the same way inside the office: incredibly dismissive, sometimes contemptuous. I don't know if she wrote here too, but a user on Levine's individual Yelp listing had a similar experience to mine. I wrote there too, and I recommend people considering him read her review as well. Both of us had the fun experience of being told that our experiences were completely invalid.
Dr. Levine took me off of the right medicine for me rather than take me up to a therapeutic dose: this medicine, later prescribed by a good doctor who's since retired, was the most effective treatment I've ever had. I didn't need it, said Levine, because the illness I have since been properly diagnosed with and came to him having been diagnosed with (Bipolar II) "doesn't exist." It was in the DSM IV, but I couldn't have had it, because he didn't believe in it or didn't want me to believe it was possible that this was the cause of my exactly-the-symptoms-listed-in-the-DSM-IV symptoms. He talked me out of doing an outpatient day program because it would be of no use to me to be there at a place for people with "real problems" (or something similar to that). He told me that he had treated people with serious mental illness, and that I wasn't one of them, suggesting that I was exaggerating things as though I thought having bipolar disorder was romantic or something. I was so suicidal as to essentially be homebound, and he told me what I needed to do was stop thinking of myself a writer--that's...my job?--and thinking that I'm some special suffering artist. I needed a real job and to basically accept that I'm no special snowflake. And I'm not: I'm among the approximately 25% of people in this country who's experienced mental illness in her lifetime--and I experience it every day, severely, to the extent that I'm working on getting on disability. (I'm on the right medicine now and it changed my life profoundly, but this never really goes away for me, and I'm currently adding antidepressants to the medicine (Lamictal) that really changed my life and which I'll always take.) I've been severely sick since my early teens, and I made some little flirts with suicide in elementary school. I brought up a frustrating, near-incapacitating and very, very real problem with self-sabotage, and he scoffed and said he always heard from people saying they would be president if not for self-sabotage, as though this couldn't be an issue with me at all and that I once again just thought I was special and should snap out of it--that that was my only problem. A side effect I was having from an antidepressant "wasn't possible." Well, I had a friend who'd had the same experience, and, as the other reviewer I mentioned said, everyone is different. You'd think a grown man, a physician no less, would know that.
I came to Dr. Levine because he has a great reputation. I regret it deeply. It was only like eight years later--for a while I just gave up on psychiatrists altogether, suffering horribly but not even bothering because I'd had two terrible experiences and felt like no one could ever help me or even pretend--that I got on the very medicines, with the very diagnosis, that Levine dismissed entirely. They were exactly what I needed and exactly what I was suffering from. To this day I marvel at the memory of a widely respected psychiatrist cutting into my appointment, with his damn door partly open, to talk on the phone with his psychiatrist. If you see Dr. Levine, that's where your money's going.
I have heard good things about Dr. McKay. I wish I'd seen him instead. To this day I get very upset thinking about Dr. Levine and what those intervening years could have been like if he'd kept me on that medicine and not talked me out of getting the intensive day treatment I needed. I spent the next year in bed at my mom's house, battling nonstop thoughts of suicide. Thanks, Richard Levine. Turns out my experiences are real. read more