You know how sometimes things come into my head and I mull over them, write them, mull over them and rewrite them?
You know how sometimes things come into my head-usually late at night-and I just take off without much self editing?
This is gonna be one of those nights.
Okay, so you know how I do a lot of reading of headlines, but not so much reading of the articles?
You know how I don’t really have strong opinions about much but the things I DO happen to believe I REALLY REALLY BELIEVE and CAN’T be moved?
Yeah.
See, maybe it’s just the main topic on the hearts of the people I follow. Maybe it’s the culture in which I live. Maybe it’s because I’m paying more attention since being diagnosed myself.
Whatever it is, depression accompanied suicide has been on my heart A LOT lately.
And sometimes….sometimes I get bothered.
See, I work in a place where the average age of our customers tends to skew more toward senior citizens than it does toward teens and twenty somethings. And senior citizens, at least THESE senior citizens, aren’t shy about vocalizing their opinions.
And it’s a lot…I mean a LOT of “us” vs “them”
And the “us” side is always good, or moral, or hardworking fighting against the government or the tax man or the terribly messed up young people in today’s world.
It bothers me.
I don’t believe every official to be corrupt.
I don’t believe every law to be unfair.
I don’t believe every choice to be manipulative.
I don’t believe every youth to be egotistical.
And, I’m sure that my customers don’t either.
They don’t think EVERY doctor is a moron.
They don’t think EVERY real estate agent is a problem.
Their words aren’t to be taken literally.
They exaggerate to make a point.
But
I
Still
Get
Bothered.
My world, as you know, currently consists of my husband, my co workers, my online life with occasional pop ins from my parents and brother.
My world, as you know, toggles back and forth between opinionated customers to alarmingly confident friends and acquaintances.
They, too, feel that doctors are idiotic.
They, too, feel that politicians are crooks.
They, too, feel that the upcoming generations are going to hell in a handbasket and getting nowhere fast.
Unlike our customers, however, people on the Internet, rarely, if ever, back down from their certainties.
They KNOW what they know and nothing will change that.
And what they know, at least what they know this month is that they are experts on mental health-especially where mental illness is concerned.
The truth, of course is that no one is an expert on anything. There is always, ALWAYS more to consider, always ALWAYS more to learn.
But the Internet is faceless. The Internet offers no immediate reaction. The Internet doesn’t express anger, nor does it burst into tears.
And so we who live on social media continue to be convinced of our own rightness.
Even if, especially if, someone has been harmed
Even if someone has died.
The truth is, of course, that we can only really bear witness to what we ourselves have felt and seen.
We AREN’T in someone else’s head.
Even the closest among us has secrets that even their loved ones can’t see.
We can’t testify to what we do not KNOW to be true.
But,we try
By God, do we try.
We, with our opinions presented as facts.
With our theories presented as knowledge.
We, the casually cruel and the carelessly dangerous.
We don’t care who we hurt.
As long as we are heard.
We don’t care who we leave bleeding.
The truth is…
well, the truth as far as I have felt it, is…
That more people are bleeding than we would ever suspect.
Almost two years ago, I became mentally ill…
er…let me back up a bit:
Almost two years ago, my mental illness was Recognized and Confirmed
And I was swept into a community of people
That I barely knew existed.
Here’s the thing, ladies and gentlemen
EVERYONE
EVERYONE
EVERYONE
feels alone.
The feeling doesn’t always last.
Some of us find our place.
Some of us chase our dreams.
Some of us discover like minded souls
Who assure us that we aren’t so alone
After all.
But some of us.
Some of us.
Even the most communal of us
Never do.
Here’s the thing that I din’t know
And you, of course, have the right to disagree
But there is some evidence that
loneliness can beget depression
Depression can beget feelings of worthlessness
Worthlessness can beget suicidal thoughts
All of that,
or so I have been told,
CAN ACTUALLY CHANGE YOUR BRAIN
Mentally, yes
But physically too
Mental illness (which Depression is classified as)
Can reshape your brain
This is considered a disability folks
Parts of your brain get smaller
PHYSICALLY SMALLER
It’s a loss
Now, note…loneliness is not, by any means, the only cause of depression. Depression is an umbrella term for several diagnosis, many of which have much in common
INCLUDING SHRINKING YOUR BRAIN
I’m not talking about your mind or soul
Depression CAN AND DOES affect those too. Your ideals can suffer, as can your faith and spirituality.
But, here? Now? I’m talking about something physical. Something you can touch, feel, hold
Something tangible
Something real
Which brings me to point one
Don’t get me wrong
I don’t know WHY people come to harm at their own hands
I am not everyone
I can only speak from my own experiences
I DO know that SOME of the hurt is caused by a reduced ability in rational, realistic thinking.
See, when your mental pathways change, your thoughts do too.
There are people who CAN’T see that they are wanted, needed or loved.
And, as an aside,
These are not JUST the artists, the entertainers, the poets or the dreamers.
There DOES seem to be a correlation between mental illnesses (i.e. loneliness, anxiety, depression, panic attacks and self harm) and creativity but such conditions can be found in ALL segments of the population.
You don’t HAVE to be a teenaged girl to have such thoughts
You don’t HAVE to be a tortured artist
Or an assault victim
Or the only survivor of an accident
Or a caretaker for someone with a severe disability or terminal illness
A veteran
A schizophrenic
A runaway
or any other stereotype
At all
You can be a businessman
A lawyer
A young wife
A bus driver
A single parent
A high school athlete
Heck, all you have to be is HUMAN
for such feelings to break through
One of the problems though,
At least as I see it,
Is the secrecy
As open as we are nowadays about what goes on inside our heads
As creative as we are in our songs and movies and TV shows
We’re still missing the mark
People with depression are often depicted as “crazy”
People with terminal illnesses are often said to explore options to hasten the end of their lives
We’re scary, we mentally ill
At least according to today’s popular entertainment we are
We’re dangerous
We’re irrational
We’re the butt of jokes
We’re holy fools
We’re easy targets
We’re some kind of punchline
we’re either sacred angels
or sub humans
What we are, of course
Is often alone
Quite frankly, being diagnosed as chronically depressive and bi polar shook me
What I knew was what I saw on TV
The highs included dangerous delusions and indiscriminate sex
The lows included too much self loathing and too many pills
And then I found them
Or, rather, they found me
And for almost two years, I’ve been learning
that we’re not people who hear voices
not always, anyway
We’re wives and mothers, husbands and fathers
Students and leaders and children and grown ups
We live and love and learn
But most of us are still scared
See, as enlightened as this century is, there are still stigmas
Heck, it wasn’t too long ago that we were cutting into people’s brains and locking them in institutions for life
And when it all gets to be too much
When it hurts and burns and opens up our scars again and again?
There is help
Um…sort of
There is often
For us, there is often
Collective, societal help
But not personal
For five months I took to my bed this past year
Late nights are the worst
For me, anyway
I’ve been told to suffer in silence
That the rest of the people I love
(and who one would presume loved me)
was more important than my pain
I’ve been told to call a hotline
Only to be unable to connect
The stories of my new friends are even more disappointing
It’s trendy now to say “I’m here”, isn’t it?
It’s not so easy to follow through
See, the stigmas are powerful
The shame is real
And the loneliness is overwhelming
Until we’re sorrowful enough that our very brains turn against us
You know how it’s said that harming one’s self is selfish
That suicide is merely a permanent solution to a temporary problem?
Yeah…thanks a lot faceless confident Internet posters
Thanks a lot senior citizen customers with the many opinions and the little experience
IT”S NOT TRUE
(I mean it IS, but it isn’t)
Here is one of the great mysteries of our time
Those of us who DO ask for help, who are often dragged kicking and screaming to some kind of professional
Those of us who can just FEEL something is wrong
Are often given pills that have SUICIDE as one of the first side effects
The very medicine prescribed to save our lives has been known to kill us
This isn’t the only cause of ending one’s life
of course it isn’t
This is just one example
Talk to us
Get to know us
Some of us ARE in denial
Some of us are questioning
We can feel something wrong, we just don’t know the WHAT yet
Some of us, however
Have been told
Over and over that the people in our lives are willing to help
JUST AS SOON
as the chores are completed
or the sun comes up
or the trip has been taken
We get the message
We see
We can figure out that we’re important
Just not as important as whatever you have going on
At that time
Some of us have counselors who are horrified
Counselors are people too
Some of them stigmatize us just as much as the general population does
Some of us
When asked what it is that we want
Are reminded that NO ONE is indispensable
And ANYONE can be replaced
Some of us are unloved
Unwanted
Unneeded
or just plain abused
But some of us are just scared
Some of us HAVE reached out
only to find no one reaching back
Some of us HAVE taken the pills
The ones designed to help us
Only to find that they make us spin down
Even worse than before
We’re not intentionally selfish
We don’t mean to cause trouble
We’re stigmatized
and secretive
And ashamed
We’re told to hang on
To our families
To our faith
To our dreams
Meanwhile
Our hopes are dying
Our brains are shrinking
And we can LITERALLY SEE NO OTHER WAY OUT
Please
Please
Please normal people
If you’re lucky enough to BE normal
(a term many of us, yes, even people of faith, desperately wish we were)
STOP
Stop with the names
Stop with the stigmatization
Stop with the oh so entertaining depictions of “crazy” and “insane”
We’re not selfish
And if we are
We don’t mean to be
We’re sick
We’re ill
Some of us will keep on being ill
For the rest of our lives
Fighting against our own biology
Our own pills
Our own minds
And then fighting
Against you
So please stop
We need peace
We need faith
We need love and comfort and rest
But we need YOU
And it’s too late
Sometimes it’s too late
For “If only he had reached out”
Chances are he had
Chances are we ARE
If only our thoughts would quiet
If only our hearts would still
If only you,
even you the informed,
Could see
How very hard
We try