Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Here We Go

There are a lot of things in this world that I do not understand.  One thing that really burns my toast and really confuses the crap out of me is the thought that there is some kind of universal contest to see who has the most chronic illnesses or mental illnesses.   I know people who introduce themselves by what is “wrong” with them before almost anything else.

Something else that ticks me off is that meme that talks about how depression is a sign of trying to be strong for too long.  Fuck you.   The causes are not immediately known.   Stop trivializing something so serious.  Also, stop diagnosing yourselves as bipolar, depressed, or having anxiety disorders.  You aren’t qualified to do that.  Dr. Google isn’t a real M.D. 

Yes, everyone likes attention.  It makes us feel special.  It makes us feel good.  Who doesn’t want to feel unique once in a while?  Well, you’re going about it in the wrong way.  Believe me when I say you don’t really want clinical depression.  It’s a screaming, lying, horrible demon that shrieks horrible things at you.  It eats at you and wears you down until there’s nothing left. Until you can’t go on.   It’s hard not to listen when you hear that shit all the time.  It’s not fun. It’s not a game.  It doesn’t make you better than someone else.  Seriously, though, if you are jealous of someone who has a legitimate illness or disorder, then, yes, there probably is something wrong with you.   Seek help.

I haven’t really said a lot about the death of anyone who has committed suicide, celebrity or not.  I don’t like to glorify this sort of thing.   It sucks. It sucks big-time.   Yet, I understand why.  I’ve been there.  I’ve wanted to.  I’ve been so close that I’ve had to be placed somewhere safe.   Since I’m not famous, it isn’t the sort of thing that would get a lot of attention.   I’d rather be recognized for things I do in life, not how life ends. I am not what I have. 

Those of us who do have actual disorders, those of us who have been diagnosed by trained, experienced professionals DO seek help. We DO talk to people. We DO take our pills like good little boys and girls.  Usually.  It isn’t a question of reaching out, however.  It’s a question of the hand on the other end.  Does it take our hand and help pull us out of the darkness?  Does it hold on and offer comfort?   Is there anyone or anything there at all?  

I’ll admit to reaching out and coming up empty-handed because people who just want to suffer from the latest thing are already taking up all of the support.  It seems so much easier to help someone who doesn’t really need it, doesn’t it? 

I guess what I really want to say is this:  If you think it’s a contest, you’re an asshole.  If you think it’s a game, you’re an asshole.  If you think it’s something I can turn on and off at will, you’re an asshole.  If you think people who permanently remove themselves from the pain and suffering they cannot otherwise escape are selfish, you’re an asshole.

I’ve been dealing with clinical depression since my teens.  It sucks.  If you really, really want it because you think it’s cool and it will get you all sorts of attention, please take mine.  If you just want to be speshul and yuneek…see above.

Thank you. 

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