What You Say About Mental Illness vs What You Actually Mean.
Tag: bipolar
Magnum Opus
Kristen Bell is one of the most recent stars to push past stigma and declare her depression and anxiety worth talking about.
And for that, I am thrilled.
It means that once again, there is another person, who seems so ‘normal,’ finally showcasing that, HELLO THERE, this is a real thing. And it knows no boundaries.
As a person who has had mental health issues for quite some time, diagnosed or not, I can basically agree 100% with this. And I wish, I wish, with all my might, that between her efforts and mine, and the efforts of all those other anxious or depressed souls out there, we can finally feel alive.
I want the anxious Plain Janes with no ‘big’ accomplishments to stand up with me, and say ‘I’m still here despite it all.’
I want the hard-working and depressed people to stand up with us, and declare ‘This isn’t shameful.’
I want my bipolar friends who fight internal demons to rally and shout ‘We’re people, too.’
I want my schizophrenic sisters and brothers to get together and yell from the rooftops that ‘We’re MORE than medication.’
Because we are.
We are MORE than this. We are MORE than medication, therapy, and doctor’s visits.
If you know a person in your life with a mental illness (I guarantee you do,) I want you to challenge yourself. Don’t get overwhelmed, but spend some time with them. Get to know their demons, and what they fight with every day. The things that make them struggle. The thoughts they have against their own selves.
I know from personal experience that just going to a counsellor doesn’t cut it. I need time to process my feelings, work through them, and count my victories. Sometimes that means someone points them out for me. Sometimes that means someone has to tell me over a dozen times a day that I am special. That I am okay. That I am loved, wanted, insert-positive-adjective-here. Sometimes that means that I need to just tell someone, anyone, that despite it all, it’s hard to live. I feel lonely. I feel afraid. I feel weak.
I can’t even hold back the tears coming down my face anymore. I’m so scared. But I’m doing this anyway, like I’ve done for the past year or more. (When did I start this, again?)
I am done hiding. I don’t want to hide anymore. If you still need space, though, take it. I’ll be a sounding board for anyone who’s struggling, because I’ve been there. I might not know how your story is going, but I will be a post to lean on if you need me.
We’re in this together, no matter how alone we feel.
so i keep seeing these mental illness support posts all over tumblr but i never see any for the “scary” illnesses
im here for the schizophrenics, paranoid and otherwise
im here for the bipolar people, especially those who are rapid cycling (believe me, i know how much it sucks)
im here for the people with borderline personality disorder who are constantly wondering if theyre being abusive
im here for the addicts
the people who dissociate
the people who have trouble telling whats real
the people whose minds are too scary to get their own support posts on tumblr
im here for you all
we’re not as scary as we’re told we are
Don’t Call Robin Williams’ Death a Waste
Suicide isn’t “giving up” or “giving in.” Suicide is a terrible decision made by someone whose pain is so great that they can no longer hold it, and feel they have no other option in life but to end it. It’s a decision you can’t t…When people describe a suicide as a ‘waste’ IDK it pushes buttons inside me. When I was younger, and when I was so depressed I was considering suicide, my primary reason was feeling like I was already a waste – a waste on peoples’ time, a waste on their resources, a waste of their affection. I’d been convinced that I was completely selfish, that I took and took without giving back, and that I only caused misery to others by being alive because I was so thoughtless. I was convinced that, after a brief mourning period, their lives would be better if I wasn’t around to ruin them anymore.
Now I’m an adult and I understand that when a thirteen-year-old feels that way, it’s because the adults in their life have failed them. Kids, as we say in the SPN fandom, are supposed to eat your food and break your heart. A teenager being self-absorbed is developmentally normal, especially when that teenager is being relentlessly bullied, is friendless, is struggling with school, and otherwise has plenty of misery going on in their own lives that prevents them from being terribly interested in other peoples’. I stopped being suicidal when someone told me it was okay to care about myself first. I had literally never heard that before. I thought I had to justify my own existence. I thought if I wasn’t satisfying other people, if I wasn’t making other people happy, then I didn’t deserve to live.
When people talk about ‘waste’, what are we wasting? Are we wasting their time by forcing them to grieve? Are we wasting their resources by demanding their attention? ”You’re wasting the rest of your lives”. Okay, fine, but they’re OUR lives. They aren’t yours. You aren’t entitled to them. You don’t get to obligate us to continue in misery because our deaths would affect YOU. People who say suicide is selfish, or a pointless waste, make me furious because they want us to just continue living on in abject misery, the kind of misery that makes us literally want to die… why? Because they’re entitled to us? Because we owe it to them? Because their discomfort is worth more than our agony?
I don’t support suicide. I don’t want anyone to commit suicide. But I understand why. And I understand that half the time, the people who claim people who kill themselves are wasting their lives, or being selfish, don’t actually have any interest in fixing the real problems, because that’s too much work; it costs too much; it requires too much time and too much care. If you actually cared about helping people who are in agony, you wouldn’t call them selfish for wanting to escape it, and you wouldn’t call that escape a ‘waste’. You’d call it a tragedy, because whatever could have been done to make life bearable HERE was not done. A solution was not found. The pain was not eased. And only one escape was left.
I’m still depressed, but I’m better now. I haven’t been in a suicidal state for more than ten years. I was able to change my circumstances enough that the people who had instilled those toxic beliefs in me no longer had control over me, and I had a daemon at my side reminding me that it is okay, that it is healthy, to care about my own self-interest. Now my husband is in the hospital because, like Robin, he is bipolar. He’s been depressed, without a manic swing, for three months, and it’s only getting worse. He’s hurting himself, and he’s looking for a way out. But he has a way out that isn’t killing himself – there is a good hospital close to us where he knows the doctors and feels comfortable, where they will listen to him and adjust his medication. He has a wife and a son who understand his illness, who support him and NEVER blame him, and who will gladly take on the challenge of handling his affairs in his absence because we are his team, and we are on his side.
Despite all this, I honestly believe I’ll lose him one day. It gets worse, it doesn’t get better. The progression of his condition has been so severe over the course of six years that I’m scared to contemplate where we’ll be in ten. And I’m resigned to that. I accept it. I love him for the time he’s here, and I want to ease as much of his pain as it’s in my power to do. I’m furious that I’m so impotent and I can’t do more because when you love someone you don’t want them to suffer.
Robin Williams was in pain. Now he isn’t anymore. I’m grieved for the suffering he endured, and for his family and friends who are suffering now. Losing a battle like this is terrible and tragic and heartbreaking. We all wish we could have done better by him. And if you want others to avoid following his example, we need to do better by them. We have to ease the pain HERE. We have to make good care accessible to them HERE. We have to fight stigma and support members of our community HERE. It may not always end up being enough, because most of the time it gets worse, not better. But we should do it because people are suffering, and they need help, and they don’t have to earn the right to their own existence. They don’t owe us their suffering. We owe them relief.
On the passing of heroes.
I decided to become a comedian at the age of 14. At that point I didn’t know how to be one—but I was eager to learn.
One of the first things I did was visit my local Blockbuster videotape rental store. Turn right as you enter, head to the middle section directly after the really old action movies, and there would be a small series of shelves dedicated to stand up comedy specials.
My comedy masterclass all contained on analog magnetic tape.
Robin Williams had 3 specials available at my Blockbuster. They were the first ones I chose to watch. Sometimes I would question that decision because it was a bit like wanting to learn science and starting with quantum physics. I had never seen a mind work so quickly. He was a world class performer. His timing was perfect. His delivery was spot on. And he adjusted to the audience without missing a beat. He was an inspiration. I still use many of the things I learned from him in my work today. I owe a lot of my success to his teachings.
Like Mr. Williams, I suffer from the same chemical imbalance. My brain is sick and I have been struggling with that illness for many years. At one point I very nearly made the same decision he did. At the time I saw it as the only escape from my suffering. I was able to choose life and move forward, but it was not an easy choice to make by any means. I was facing a lifetime of illness. I could not leave my home. My friends had given up on me. The loneliness was unbearable. I was so incredibly tired. The exhaustion never stopped. Not even for a second.
And to me, the most disheartening reality… I could no longer perform.
The dream I had since I was 14 was no longer possible.
My anchor to this mortal coil was the love I had for my parents. The most amazing two people in my life. Their unending love and support kept me here. I feel so lucky to have that anchor. I’m so grateful to still be around.
I just want to say that I understand the choice Robin Williams made. The choice that countless others have made. I wish with all my heart that they could have chosen to keep going. But I refuse to demonize them or call them selfish for letting go.
A sick brain is one of the most formidable foes in existence. I know for many blessed with health that is difficult to understand. But I assure you this disease is dangerous and pervasive and sometimes it is fatal. Suicide is not about being selfish. It is not about having a weak will.
Your own brain deceives you. It convincingly whispers that all hope is lost. It tells you there is no way to elude the anguish. It blocks your view of all other options and makes you think there is only one method of escape. Only one solution to end this pain. It silences the logical mind that knows that there are other options. It makes you truly believe that you cannot be helped.
I think if certain people could experience this illness, if only for a moment, they might be surprised how strong people with depression actually are. Maybe they could realize how hard people fought to stay alive as long as they did. They might discover it is less of a choice and more of a battle.
To those in the throes of depression… I ask you to keep fighting. I ask you to keep living. Being on the other side of my decision I was able to gain important wisdom I wish I knew beforehand. Contentment is not being happy all of the time. It is learning to cope with the hardships in between the bits of joy. It is not taking the bits of joy for granted when they come. And contentment is still possible even with a sick brain.
If you keep going, you will feel joy again. And you will feel great sadness again. You will feel everything in between. I make no guarantees of ever achieving a perfect, happy life.
Just know that there is help. There is hope. I promise if you seek care and find a doctor your trust, they can help you work through this illness and learn to cope with it. If you put in the work, you will have bits of joy. You will have moments that make life worth living. One day you will look back and be grateful you stuck around to experience the good, no matter how hard coping with the bad may have been.
I will miss Robin Williams dearly. He was the greatest mentor I have never met. He had a beautiful brain with a tragic flaw. My hope is that his passing will bring awareness to the true nature of mental illness. That it will help relieve the stigma surrounding it. That it will inspire others to find better ways to treat it. I think that would be a most fitting tribute to a man that brought the world many a smile.
My heart is with all who have lost loved ones to depression. Giant Frogman bear-hugs to all of you.
I wrote a bit more about depression here. If you need help, it might be a good place to start.
I just can’t right now.
My childhood idol is gone. In the worst possible way.
It hurts to know that he was suffering so much and all the people who love him all over the world couldn’t reach out to help him because his suffering was in silence.
Depression doesn’t have to take your life. If you’re suffering reach out. Please! Reach out to those you know love you. Reach out to anyone you can. If all else fails call a hotline. It doesn’t have to take you.
Don’t let it take you as it’s taken him.
Gods forgive me but I wish it had been an overdose. At least then I could hope it had been accidental.
I’m on mom duty so I can’t even grieve but the tears just keep coming.
Gods Robin, I’m so sorry. Rest easy your suffering is over.
Holding the Bowl 