and circling.....
and circling....
like a very plush, very demented Daytona.
So I must be ridiculous and angry, and I must do it somewhere safe.
I have very strange, unpredictable pet peeves. People who promote their blogs on Twitter or facebook (but apparently my subconcious deems Tumblr kosher). Self righteousness. How loud our kitchen chairs are. I don't like them, I wish I could shed them. I don't like being ridiculous.
Hello, Blogspot. You must be my somewhere.
So, hey. world. everyone.
Mental Illness isn't a fad.
It seems like I am among a generation, or at least circle of people in the Missouri vicinity who really like to play psychiatrist. Hannibal, KC, Lee's Summit, anywhere. There's no specific one spot. And by psychiatrist, I don't mean diagnosing everyone around them. I mean taking people's legitimate experiences and hurts, and instead diagnosing themselves.
You know what? It's really, really, effing annoying.
Believe me here, the last thing I want to do is deny someone the help they need when they know things are not right. And the last thing I want to do is tell everyone that no one has ever had it as bad as poor, poor Melinda. I'll be the first to admit that I've done things for attention. But that's not what I'm talking about.
Sometimes, for whatever reason, it will come up in conversation. I'll talk about what I've experienced, and the way that obsessive or depressive thoughts sometimes take over my mind. And inevitably someone will look at the ceiling and say "hmm. I think I have that."
Let's get a few things straight.
1. If you're reacting to it as non-chalantly as "hmm, I think I have that," I have news for you: you probably don't.
2. You don't have a medical degree.
3. You don't even realize the magnitude of what you're saying.
4. I know you're attempting to relate, but instead you're really taking someone else's pain and making it about yourself. Stop it.
5. Depression is a lot more than feeling sad for a couple days, and obsession is a lot more than not being able to forget a mistake for a week or so. There are nights when I can't sleep because the thoughts just wont. stop. And by not sleep, I don't mean I'm up a few hours. I mean dusk to dawn, straight through. If you bring up an embarrassing mistake I made years ago, I will literally get nauseous. When i have an episode, its never at a convenient time, and climbing out of that hole takes an exhausting amount of effort. The physical symptoms really suck, like the weird cycles of insomnia and the need to sleep all the time.
I'm not speaking on behalf of myself here. We are in an age where mental illness is finally more widely understood, and people are looking for cures rather than ways to lock people up. But we're also in an age where its really popular to have some sort of disorder because it makes you unique.
I have incredible news. Mental Illnesses don't make you unique. They don't make you special. They don't make you desirable, attractive, or mysterious. Truth be told, they just really, really suck. Do you know why my roommate came home trying not to be upset tonight? Its because she couldn't hug her sister--who's diagnosed with OCD and is deathly afraid of touching people. Do you know why I want to punch people in the fact who say "oh yeah, I was a cutter. One time I was really angry and scratched myself. once."? Its because I've seen my best friend's skin literally turned to red and pink plaid, and no one offering to help. I've caught my mother walking downstairs with a book in the middle of the night because her anxiety won't let her rest. I've seen brothers fight tooth and nail to concentrate, sisters struggle to relate to people.
And I'll have people reading this saying, "Yeah! People just don't understand us!"
Ok. Friends. Not us. My roommates sister. And my best friend. And my mother. I hate to be blunt, but you're not in this equation.
Mental Illnesses are not a fad. So unless you've been diagnosed by a doctor, stop the effing moron parade.
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