Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
I voted!
So go ye and do likewise, if you haven't already done so. Voting is crucial in this wild election. Go forth and vote!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
A Perspective on the Recent Suicides of Young Men Due to Homophobic Bullying
I found this via one of my LiveJournal friends. Go forth and read it. It is a fascinating, beautifully written post about how these young men's endurance was worn down to the breaking point by the bullies.
May the victims of bullying, publicized or not, rest in peace.
May the victims of bullying, publicized or not, rest in peace.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Spirit Day or WEAR PURPLE on October 20th
Originally posted by at Spirit Day
It’s been decided. On October 20th, 2010, we will wear purple in honor of the 6 boys who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes and/or at their schools. Purple represents Spirit on the LGBTQ flag and that’s exactly what we’d like all of you to have with you: spirit. Please know that times will get better and that you will meet people who will love you and respect you for who you are, no matter your sexuality. Please wear purple on October 20th. Tell your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and schools.
RIP Tyler Clementi, Seth Walsh (top)
RIP Justin Aaberg, Raymond Chase (middle)
RIP Asher Brown and Billy Lucas. (bottom)
REBLOG to spread a message of love, unity and peace.
I think this is so important. These young men's lives meant something, as do the lives of the young people who've committed suicide and not made the news, and so do the lives of the young people who still struggle with homophobic bullying.
So gay, straight, or somewhere in between, cis, trans, what-have-you, WEAR PURPLE on October 20th, to represent spirit and to remember these young men.
(Edited to change graphic to something that doesn't use photos without permission.)
It’s been decided. On October 20th, 2010, we will wear purple in honor of the 6 boys who committed suicide in recent weeks/months due to homophobic abuse in their homes and/or at their schools. Purple represents Spirit on the LGBTQ flag and that’s exactly what we’d like all of you to have with you: spirit. Please know that times will get better and that you will meet people who will love you and respect you for who you are, no matter your sexuality. Please wear purple on October 20th. Tell your friends, family, co-workers, neighbors and schools.
RIP Tyler Clementi, Seth Walsh (top)
RIP Justin Aaberg, Raymond Chase (middle)
RIP Asher Brown and Billy Lucas. (bottom)
REBLOG to spread a message of love, unity and peace.
I think this is so important. These young men's lives meant something, as do the lives of the young people who've committed suicide and not made the news, and so do the lives of the young people who still struggle with homophobic bullying.
So gay, straight, or somewhere in between, cis, trans, what-have-you, WEAR PURPLE on October 20th, to represent spirit and to remember these young men.
(Edited to change graphic to something that doesn't use photos without permission.)
Thursday, September 30, 2010
A Note on Suicide
I'm not sure I really need to say this, but trigger warning for discussion of suicide.
I've got suicide on the brain because of the tragedies in the last few weeks of young men who've killed themselves because of bullying related to homophobia. My previous post was about the strength of character and the strength of will that it takes to live with mental illness. I stand by everything I said there.
I've attempted suicide on several occasions, and I know better than I'd like to know how it feels to think that life is not worth living. It sucks to struggle and struggle and feel like you're getting nowhere. It sucks to feel like nobody cares about you, nobody cares about your struggles, your worries, your life.
I never meant to imply or say that suicide is reflective of a lack of strength of character or will. Suicide happens when the seas of life swamp one's boat and one just can't take any more. Suicide is horribly tragic, because for many people who kill themselves, there were people in their lives who were willing to help if only they'd known how bad it was for the person who committed suicide.
There is help. There is hope. Suicidal despair is not a reflection of your character or strength of will. It is not weakness, it is an expression of being overwhelmed in the worst way.
And it is always, always a tragedy when someone commits suicide.
I've got suicide on the brain because of the tragedies in the last few weeks of young men who've killed themselves because of bullying related to homophobia. My previous post was about the strength of character and the strength of will that it takes to live with mental illness. I stand by everything I said there.
I've attempted suicide on several occasions, and I know better than I'd like to know how it feels to think that life is not worth living. It sucks to struggle and struggle and feel like you're getting nowhere. It sucks to feel like nobody cares about you, nobody cares about your struggles, your worries, your life.
I never meant to imply or say that suicide is reflective of a lack of strength of character or will. Suicide happens when the seas of life swamp one's boat and one just can't take any more. Suicide is horribly tragic, because for many people who kill themselves, there were people in their lives who were willing to help if only they'd known how bad it was for the person who committed suicide.
There is help. There is hope. Suicidal despair is not a reflection of your character or strength of will. It is not weakness, it is an expression of being overwhelmed in the worst way.
And it is always, always a tragedy when someone commits suicide.
Crazy Does Not Equal Of Poor Character
Part Four of Crazy Does Not Equal...
[Trigger warning for brief mention of rape, child sexual abuse, more detailed mention of self-injury, and brief allusion to suicide. Be safe.]
Full Disclosure: I have schizoaffective disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. I have suffered from one form or another of mental illness for most of my life, mostly depression in one form or another, anxiety, and various manifestations of PTSD. I am 34 years old, a cis woman, white and Cherokee, divorced, mother of one completely awesome daughter, bisexual with polyamorous tendencies, a proud bleeding-heart liberal, an eclectic pagan, and completely out of my tree.
I've always been hesitant to be open with people about my mental condition. Mental illness is still hugely stigmatized, and I don't want to be treated as if I'm somehow less than other people because my brain and mind are funky. But I've come to the realization that mental illness will remain stigmatized unless people with mental illnesses are open about their conditions and show the world that we're not what society would have the world believe.
People with mental illnesses are often stereotyped as violent, or, in contrast, figures of fun, to be mocked for “abnormal” behaviors. And if we're not to be feared or made fun of, we're childish and incapable of making our own decisions. Failing that, we're weak-willed or of poor character, often therefore leading to the conclusion that we're responsible for our conditions and could be “normal” if we'd just decide to be. On top of all that, we're often considered lacking in intelligence, which can be part and parcel of the “childish and incapable of making our own decisions” or “weak-willed or of poor character” tropes.
Someone of truly poor character is someone who is deliberately cruel, who lacks compassion, who harms the weak. Poor character is lying, stealing, hurting people, basically living without ethics, and I'm sure there are in fact some people with mental illnesses who are of poor character, just as there are plenty of people who do not have mental illness who are of poor character. But poor character and/or a weak will do not go hand in hand with a psychiatric diagnosis.
People with depression often hear things like, “Cheer up” or “Look on the bright side” or “Why are you so negative?” or worse yet, “Count your blessings.” I don't know about anybody else who's struggled with depression, but all of the above drive me crazier than I already am. If, in a depressive episode, I could cheer up or be more positive, don't you bloody well think I would? Nobody chooses to be depressed. Nobody wants to feel like that. Depression feels like pure hell, and if we could just cheer the fuck up, we would. It's just not that fucking easy. People with PTSD hear similar things. “Why do you have to dwell on the past so much?” drives me right up a wall. [TW: child sexual abuse and rape] Do these people think I want to have flashbacks of being sexually abused (as a child) and raped (as an adult)? Do they think I want to relive terrible, horrific events in my life? Do they really think I'm going through all this for fun? For attention? I know how to get attention. It's called talking. I talk to my family. I talk to my friends. I talk to my therapist. They all pay attention to me when I'm talking. I blog. People read my blog (and my guest posts at Shakesville) and make comments. That's attention.
But some people think that people with mental illnesses (and I've just mentioned the two with which I have the most personal experience) are weak-willed and/or “doing it for attention,” neither of which says much for a person's character. If you really think that people with mental illnesses are weak-willed, go back and read Sometimes Mental Illness Really Just Bites, and maybe, just maybe you'll understand what strength of will it takes to get through life with a mental illness, how hard the day-to-day can be. And believe me, the attention you get when your mental illness symptoms are out of control is NOT the kind of attention people want. Nobody likes to be watched constantly, or committed to a psychiatric ward, or drugged or restrained, all of which have happened to me. Nobody would do that to themselves on purpose, not even someone who is seriously mentally ill.
To clarify, I have put myself in psychiatric wards before, because I could feel things getting out of control and I knew I needed help to regain control. But being involuntarily committed is a world of suck.
[TW: Self-injury]
I used to self-injure, which some people think that people with mental illnesses do for attention. It's not. Again, the attention you get when someone finds out you've been cutting or burning or whatever the hell is not the kind of attention anyone wants. I hid my cuts. I tended to make shallow, small, but painful cuts that could be passed off as cat scratches if anyone saw. I picked at them to keep them from healing too soon, but I never let on what I was doing. I did it because the physical pain made the emotional pain easier to bear. It was cathartic. I haven't cut in over a year, and I don't see myself cutting any time in the foreseeable future, but I remember the relief of physical pain and bleeding. It just made the emotions easier to manage.
I've known quite a fair few self-injurers, and I don't think any of them does/did it for attention. They did it for the same reasons I did, to make the emotional pain easier to take, for the catharsis. People who self-injure are trying to cope with phenomenal loads of pain, often burdens they've borne for their entire lives or close to it. These are not weak people. These are not attention hounds. These are people dealing with HUGE problems, and they're doing the best they can.
People with mental illnesses are not weak. They are dealing with the day-to-day bullshit we all deal with, and with a whole lot more on a day-to-day basis. They are dealing with what I like to call musical meds (when one's psychiatrists are trying everything under the sun and then some to find a medication cocktail that works). They are dealing with symptoms that, like some kind of monster out of Greek mythology, try to drag them down every time they pick themselves up. They are often dealing with loads of pain from childhood or adolescence that would break a weak person.
A weak will does not go hand in hand with a psychiatric diagnosis, nor does poor character. It takes strength and character to live with mental illness. It takes strength and character to get through a day with the symptoms. It takes strength and character to pick oneself up again after yet another episode. I am a person with mental illness, I am strong, and I am not alone.
[Trigger warning for brief mention of rape, child sexual abuse, more detailed mention of self-injury, and brief allusion to suicide. Be safe.]
Full Disclosure: I have schizoaffective disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. I have suffered from one form or another of mental illness for most of my life, mostly depression in one form or another, anxiety, and various manifestations of PTSD. I am 34 years old, a cis woman, white and Cherokee, divorced, mother of one completely awesome daughter, bisexual with polyamorous tendencies, a proud bleeding-heart liberal, an eclectic pagan, and completely out of my tree.
I've always been hesitant to be open with people about my mental condition. Mental illness is still hugely stigmatized, and I don't want to be treated as if I'm somehow less than other people because my brain and mind are funky. But I've come to the realization that mental illness will remain stigmatized unless people with mental illnesses are open about their conditions and show the world that we're not what society would have the world believe.
People with mental illnesses are often stereotyped as violent, or, in contrast, figures of fun, to be mocked for “abnormal” behaviors. And if we're not to be feared or made fun of, we're childish and incapable of making our own decisions. Failing that, we're weak-willed or of poor character, often therefore leading to the conclusion that we're responsible for our conditions and could be “normal” if we'd just decide to be. On top of all that, we're often considered lacking in intelligence, which can be part and parcel of the “childish and incapable of making our own decisions” or “weak-willed or of poor character” tropes.
Someone of truly poor character is someone who is deliberately cruel, who lacks compassion, who harms the weak. Poor character is lying, stealing, hurting people, basically living without ethics, and I'm sure there are in fact some people with mental illnesses who are of poor character, just as there are plenty of people who do not have mental illness who are of poor character. But poor character and/or a weak will do not go hand in hand with a psychiatric diagnosis.
People with depression often hear things like, “Cheer up” or “Look on the bright side” or “Why are you so negative?” or worse yet, “Count your blessings.” I don't know about anybody else who's struggled with depression, but all of the above drive me crazier than I already am. If, in a depressive episode, I could cheer up or be more positive, don't you bloody well think I would? Nobody chooses to be depressed. Nobody wants to feel like that. Depression feels like pure hell, and if we could just cheer the fuck up, we would. It's just not that fucking easy. People with PTSD hear similar things. “Why do you have to dwell on the past so much?” drives me right up a wall. [TW: child sexual abuse and rape] Do these people think I want to have flashbacks of being sexually abused (as a child) and raped (as an adult)? Do they think I want to relive terrible, horrific events in my life? Do they really think I'm going through all this for fun? For attention? I know how to get attention. It's called talking. I talk to my family. I talk to my friends. I talk to my therapist. They all pay attention to me when I'm talking. I blog. People read my blog (and my guest posts at Shakesville) and make comments. That's attention.
But some people think that people with mental illnesses (and I've just mentioned the two with which I have the most personal experience) are weak-willed and/or “doing it for attention,” neither of which says much for a person's character. If you really think that people with mental illnesses are weak-willed, go back and read Sometimes Mental Illness Really Just Bites, and maybe, just maybe you'll understand what strength of will it takes to get through life with a mental illness, how hard the day-to-day can be. And believe me, the attention you get when your mental illness symptoms are out of control is NOT the kind of attention people want. Nobody likes to be watched constantly, or committed to a psychiatric ward, or drugged or restrained, all of which have happened to me. Nobody would do that to themselves on purpose, not even someone who is seriously mentally ill.
To clarify, I have put myself in psychiatric wards before, because I could feel things getting out of control and I knew I needed help to regain control. But being involuntarily committed is a world of suck.
[TW: Self-injury]
I used to self-injure, which some people think that people with mental illnesses do for attention. It's not. Again, the attention you get when someone finds out you've been cutting or burning or whatever the hell is not the kind of attention anyone wants. I hid my cuts. I tended to make shallow, small, but painful cuts that could be passed off as cat scratches if anyone saw. I picked at them to keep them from healing too soon, but I never let on what I was doing. I did it because the physical pain made the emotional pain easier to bear. It was cathartic. I haven't cut in over a year, and I don't see myself cutting any time in the foreseeable future, but I remember the relief of physical pain and bleeding. It just made the emotions easier to manage.
I've known quite a fair few self-injurers, and I don't think any of them does/did it for attention. They did it for the same reasons I did, to make the emotional pain easier to take, for the catharsis. People who self-injure are trying to cope with phenomenal loads of pain, often burdens they've borne for their entire lives or close to it. These are not weak people. These are not attention hounds. These are people dealing with HUGE problems, and they're doing the best they can.
People with mental illnesses are not weak. They are dealing with the day-to-day bullshit we all deal with, and with a whole lot more on a day-to-day basis. They are dealing with what I like to call musical meds (when one's psychiatrists are trying everything under the sun and then some to find a medication cocktail that works). They are dealing with symptoms that, like some kind of monster out of Greek mythology, try to drag them down every time they pick themselves up. They are often dealing with loads of pain from childhood or adolescence that would break a weak person.
A weak will does not go hand in hand with a psychiatric diagnosis, nor does poor character. It takes strength and character to live with mental illness. It takes strength and character to get through a day with the symptoms. It takes strength and character to pick oneself up again after yet another episode. I am a person with mental illness, I am strong, and I am not alone.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sex Education is a Basic Right
Call me what you will, right now I've got sex on the brain.
This doesn't come out of nowhere. These two posts on Shakesville and this post at AngryBlackBitch have got my mind workin'.
So, let's talk.
Sex is a touchy topic. A lot of people are squeamish about it. Our culture makes it something to be ashamed of, something dirty, and at the same time, tells us that all the cool people are doing it.
But one thing we need right now is sex education. Comprehensive, open discourse, education about sex in all its wild and woolly aspects.
What would that do? It would help prevent unplanned pregnancies (and by that token reduce the need for abortions), it would help reduce the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, and I honestly think it would make the world a better place.
Who should give the sex education? Ideally, parents. As the mother of an 18-year-old daughter, I felt, even before she was born, that it was my responsibility to make sure she knew how to be an adult by the time she became one, and part of being an adult is being educated about sex.
I had my daughter when I was 16. Needless to say, it was not a planned pregnancy. I was in the eleventh grade in high school. I grew up upper-middle-class, and I'm fairly well-educated. I knew where babies came from, I knew what sex was, but from books. My mom handed me books and left it at that. There was no discourse, let alone open discourse.
I decided before I had my daughter that she would know the things I didn't know about sex until I jumped into the pool, so to speak. I wanted her to know that there's more to it than Tab A into Slot B. I wanted her to know about contraception and the correct ways to use it. I wanted her to know about masturbation. I wanted her to know about the ways emotions can get tangled once the pubic bones start bumpin'.
So I opened a discourse with her when she was little. She knew what periods were long years before she got hers. She knew about the changes in her body that would come with puberty before her age was in double digits. And she knew about condoms and how to put them on correctly (which I did NOT know when I was her age). Most importantly, she knew and still knows that she can come to me with questions about sex and her body and boys' bodies and girls' bodies and whatever she needed to ask. I sometimes have had to tell her "I don't know, let me look it up for you," but I'd rather she got an honest "I don't know" than a line of bullshit.
But not all parents are comfortable talking that openly with their kids, gods only know why.
So what we need is comprehensive sex education. Kids need to know this stuff before they jump into the pool. They need to know how to prevent pregnancy, how to prevent sexually transmitted diseases. They need to be encouraged to explore their own bodies and discover what they like and don't like before they have sex with a partner or partners. They need to know that sex is nothing to be ashamed of, that when entered into with full consent and responsibility, it can be--it should be--joyous. Every student in every school across the country needs sex education, not that abstinence-only horseshit that the Bush administration tried to push, but comprehensive sex education covering not just the mechanics of Tab A into Slot B, but contraception and how to use it, abortion, disease prevention, sexual health (as in, it's not normal to bleed every time you have PIV sex, another thing I didn't know when I became sexually active), fantasies, masturbation, oral sex, anal sex, all of it. GLB students need to know that their orientations are legitimate, that it is, in fact, okay to be sexually attracted to other people, regardless of their equipment or identity. Transgender students need to know that their identities are legitimate, and they need to know about their options with regard to gender reassignment procedures and the legal tangles of gender identity.
The kids need to know all this. They need to know it without shame, without guilt, and maybe most importantly, without bullshit. And not from a book. From parents and teachers who care that these students, these children and adolescents, these young women and men, grow up to be well-adjusted, healthy adults.
This doesn't come out of nowhere. These two posts on Shakesville and this post at AngryBlackBitch have got my mind workin'.
So, let's talk.
Sex is a touchy topic. A lot of people are squeamish about it. Our culture makes it something to be ashamed of, something dirty, and at the same time, tells us that all the cool people are doing it.
But one thing we need right now is sex education. Comprehensive, open discourse, education about sex in all its wild and woolly aspects.
What would that do? It would help prevent unplanned pregnancies (and by that token reduce the need for abortions), it would help reduce the spread of sexually transmitted diseases, and I honestly think it would make the world a better place.
Who should give the sex education? Ideally, parents. As the mother of an 18-year-old daughter, I felt, even before she was born, that it was my responsibility to make sure she knew how to be an adult by the time she became one, and part of being an adult is being educated about sex.
I had my daughter when I was 16. Needless to say, it was not a planned pregnancy. I was in the eleventh grade in high school. I grew up upper-middle-class, and I'm fairly well-educated. I knew where babies came from, I knew what sex was, but from books. My mom handed me books and left it at that. There was no discourse, let alone open discourse.
I decided before I had my daughter that she would know the things I didn't know about sex until I jumped into the pool, so to speak. I wanted her to know that there's more to it than Tab A into Slot B. I wanted her to know about contraception and the correct ways to use it. I wanted her to know about masturbation. I wanted her to know about the ways emotions can get tangled once the pubic bones start bumpin'.
So I opened a discourse with her when she was little. She knew what periods were long years before she got hers. She knew about the changes in her body that would come with puberty before her age was in double digits. And she knew about condoms and how to put them on correctly (which I did NOT know when I was her age). Most importantly, she knew and still knows that she can come to me with questions about sex and her body and boys' bodies and girls' bodies and whatever she needed to ask. I sometimes have had to tell her "I don't know, let me look it up for you," but I'd rather she got an honest "I don't know" than a line of bullshit.
But not all parents are comfortable talking that openly with their kids, gods only know why.
So what we need is comprehensive sex education. Kids need to know this stuff before they jump into the pool. They need to know how to prevent pregnancy, how to prevent sexually transmitted diseases. They need to be encouraged to explore their own bodies and discover what they like and don't like before they have sex with a partner or partners. They need to know that sex is nothing to be ashamed of, that when entered into with full consent and responsibility, it can be--it should be--joyous. Every student in every school across the country needs sex education, not that abstinence-only horseshit that the Bush administration tried to push, but comprehensive sex education covering not just the mechanics of Tab A into Slot B, but contraception and how to use it, abortion, disease prevention, sexual health (as in, it's not normal to bleed every time you have PIV sex, another thing I didn't know when I became sexually active), fantasies, masturbation, oral sex, anal sex, all of it. GLB students need to know that their orientations are legitimate, that it is, in fact, okay to be sexually attracted to other people, regardless of their equipment or identity. Transgender students need to know that their identities are legitimate, and they need to know about their options with regard to gender reassignment procedures and the legal tangles of gender identity.
The kids need to know all this. They need to know it without shame, without guilt, and maybe most importantly, without bullshit. And not from a book. From parents and teachers who care that these students, these children and adolescents, these young women and men, grow up to be well-adjusted, healthy adults.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Giving Myself A Break
So when I started this blog, I had thoughts of posting daily, making my voice heard.
The honest truth is, I just don't have the energy to do it.
And today, I'm giving myself a break.
I don't have the energy to fight my illnesses and be a major voice in the progressive blogosphere, much as I'd like to be. As much as I care about these issues and as much as I feel I have to say about them, I have to take care of myself before I can do this.
So I'm giving myself a break.
I'll be back. This is not what closing down Human Equality looks like. This is what DesertRose taking care of herself before trying to save the world looks like.
On St. Patrick's Day (17 March to those who don't celebrate it), I made a serious suicide attempt, followed by yet another psychiatric hospitalization, and I have begun ECT as a result. The ECT seems to be helping emotionally but it also leaves me feeling very tired physically.
So I'm still here, and I'll still be posting, but I'm not going to push myself quite so hard. If you don't see me in comments in other blogs, that's why, because I'm spending some time saving myself.
P.S. I will be posting for
.
The honest truth is, I just don't have the energy to do it.
And today, I'm giving myself a break.
I don't have the energy to fight my illnesses and be a major voice in the progressive blogosphere, much as I'd like to be. As much as I care about these issues and as much as I feel I have to say about them, I have to take care of myself before I can do this.
So I'm giving myself a break.
I'll be back. This is not what closing down Human Equality looks like. This is what DesertRose taking care of herself before trying to save the world looks like.
On St. Patrick's Day (17 March to those who don't celebrate it), I made a serious suicide attempt, followed by yet another psychiatric hospitalization, and I have begun ECT as a result. The ECT seems to be helping emotionally but it also leaves me feeling very tired physically.
So I'm still here, and I'll still be posting, but I'm not going to push myself quite so hard. If you don't see me in comments in other blogs, that's why, because I'm spending some time saving myself.
P.S. I will be posting for
.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Crazy Does Not Equal A Joke
Part Three of Crazy Does Not Equal...
Full Disclosure: I have schizoaffective disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. I have suffered from one form or another of mental illness for most of my life, mostly depression in one form or another, anxiety, and various manifestations of PTSD. I am 34 years old, a cis woman, white and Cherokee, divorced, mother of one completely awesome daughter, bisexual with polyamorous tendencies, a proud bleeding-heart liberal, an eclectic pagan, and completely out of my tree.
I've always been hesitant to be open with people about my mental condition. Mental illness is still hugely stigmatized, and I don't want to be treated as if I'm somehow less than other people because my brain and mind are funky. But I've come to the realization that mental illness will remain stigmatized unless people with mental illnesses are open about their conditions and show the world that we're not what society would have the world believe.
People with mental illnesses are often stereotyped as violent, or, in contrast, figures of fun, to be mocked for “abnormal” behaviors. And if we're not to be feared or made fun of, we're childish and incapable of making our own decisions. Failing that, we're weak-willed or of poor character, often therefore leading to the conclusion that we're responsible for our conditions and could be “normal” if we'd just decide to be. On top of all that, we're often considered lacking in intelligence, which can be part and parcel of the “childish and incapable of making our own decisions” or “weak-willed or of poor character” tropes.
My last post not in this series was about how much mental illness can make a person's life really miserable sometimes. And yet people laugh (sometimes nervously) when they see behaviors that originate in mental illness. How many times have we seen a person with mental illness but without a home turned into a joke because zie interacts with zir hallucinations? The homeless person talking to the street lamp, Joon (in the film "Benny and Joon") "directing traffic" with a ping-pong paddle, Carl Lee (in John Gresham's novel A Time To Kill) pretending to catch invisible butterflies before going for a psychiatric evaluation, all played for laughs.
Before I continue, I want to clarify something. People with mental illnesses often laugh at themselves amongst themselves. I once heard a story about a person in a manic episode doing something quite extreme which was pretty amusing and was even more so when the person who did it told the story because zie has a gift for droll, witty delivery. The important point here is that this person told the story, making zirself the butt of zir own joke; that's acceptable, and honestly, the entire room full of people broke up laughing at the story. What would not be acceptable would be for me to tell this story and make this person the butt of my joke, because it's not my illness, it's not my life, it's not my story, and it's therefore not for me to play it for laughs.
Another part of this "joke" concept is that anyone with a wild sense of humor or who often displays zir sense of humor is "crazy" or "insane." How many times have we heard someone called "crazy" when zie is really witty, daring, silly, or just plain humorous? (Martin Lawrence's "You So Crazy" comes right to mind.) This is the ablist side of this trope; people with wild senses of humor may or may not have a mental illness, but they get tagged with a label that might not fit, because people just don't think about what it really is to have a mental illness. Other things get the ablist "crazy" or "insane" label, too, such as the use of "insane" to mean "extreme," as in, "That test was insanely difficult." It's ablist as hell, and it's insulting.
The reality of mental illness can be terribly frightening. When I have hallucinations, some of them scare me half to death. Hearing a voice that threatens you or tells you to kill yourself is not fun. Not sleeping for days is not fun. People in manic episodes have often ruined themselves financially, spending every penny they had and maxing out their credit cards. Depression is not funny; having to force yourself out of bed just to use the bathroom is pure misery, although to be fair, depression is less often made a joke than other sorts of mental illness. Tardive dyskinesia is not funny either; it's a series of physical tics that can result from years of taking psychotropic medications, but people laugh at it anyway.
The plight of the homeless person with mental illness is desperately sad, but no one thinks of that when they make their jokes. Honestly, the idea of being homeless scares me to death, because my own financial situation is wrecked due to years of fighting to be recognized as legally disabled and only by the grace of my upper-middle-class parents am I not in a shelter or on the streets myself. I've lived unable to afford my medications, getting samples from a kind psychiatrist, and I cannot (not to mention will not) laugh at a person with mental illness on the streets. It's too close to home, and it's not fucking funny. I can far too easily see myself in that situation.
A lot of stories of mental illness are funny. Life is funny sometimes, and for people with mental illness, some of the things we do are just plain amusing. For us, making a joke of our own lives, our own stories, our own behaviors is a coping mechanism; it's a common enough coping mechanism, really. Almost everybody makes jokes about themselves. But that doesn't make us a big fucking joke. I am a person with mental illness, I am not a joke, and I am not the only one.
Full Disclosure: I have schizoaffective disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. I have suffered from one form or another of mental illness for most of my life, mostly depression in one form or another, anxiety, and various manifestations of PTSD. I am 34 years old, a cis woman, white and Cherokee, divorced, mother of one completely awesome daughter, bisexual with polyamorous tendencies, a proud bleeding-heart liberal, an eclectic pagan, and completely out of my tree.
I've always been hesitant to be open with people about my mental condition. Mental illness is still hugely stigmatized, and I don't want to be treated as if I'm somehow less than other people because my brain and mind are funky. But I've come to the realization that mental illness will remain stigmatized unless people with mental illnesses are open about their conditions and show the world that we're not what society would have the world believe.
People with mental illnesses are often stereotyped as violent, or, in contrast, figures of fun, to be mocked for “abnormal” behaviors. And if we're not to be feared or made fun of, we're childish and incapable of making our own decisions. Failing that, we're weak-willed or of poor character, often therefore leading to the conclusion that we're responsible for our conditions and could be “normal” if we'd just decide to be. On top of all that, we're often considered lacking in intelligence, which can be part and parcel of the “childish and incapable of making our own decisions” or “weak-willed or of poor character” tropes.
My last post not in this series was about how much mental illness can make a person's life really miserable sometimes. And yet people laugh (sometimes nervously) when they see behaviors that originate in mental illness. How many times have we seen a person with mental illness but without a home turned into a joke because zie interacts with zir hallucinations? The homeless person talking to the street lamp, Joon (in the film "Benny and Joon") "directing traffic" with a ping-pong paddle, Carl Lee (in John Gresham's novel A Time To Kill) pretending to catch invisible butterflies before going for a psychiatric evaluation, all played for laughs.
Before I continue, I want to clarify something. People with mental illnesses often laugh at themselves amongst themselves. I once heard a story about a person in a manic episode doing something quite extreme which was pretty amusing and was even more so when the person who did it told the story because zie has a gift for droll, witty delivery. The important point here is that this person told the story, making zirself the butt of zir own joke; that's acceptable, and honestly, the entire room full of people broke up laughing at the story. What would not be acceptable would be for me to tell this story and make this person the butt of my joke, because it's not my illness, it's not my life, it's not my story, and it's therefore not for me to play it for laughs.
Another part of this "joke" concept is that anyone with a wild sense of humor or who often displays zir sense of humor is "crazy" or "insane." How many times have we heard someone called "crazy" when zie is really witty, daring, silly, or just plain humorous? (Martin Lawrence's "You So Crazy" comes right to mind.) This is the ablist side of this trope; people with wild senses of humor may or may not have a mental illness, but they get tagged with a label that might not fit, because people just don't think about what it really is to have a mental illness. Other things get the ablist "crazy" or "insane" label, too, such as the use of "insane" to mean "extreme," as in, "That test was insanely difficult." It's ablist as hell, and it's insulting.
The reality of mental illness can be terribly frightening. When I have hallucinations, some of them scare me half to death. Hearing a voice that threatens you or tells you to kill yourself is not fun. Not sleeping for days is not fun. People in manic episodes have often ruined themselves financially, spending every penny they had and maxing out their credit cards. Depression is not funny; having to force yourself out of bed just to use the bathroom is pure misery, although to be fair, depression is less often made a joke than other sorts of mental illness. Tardive dyskinesia is not funny either; it's a series of physical tics that can result from years of taking psychotropic medications, but people laugh at it anyway.
The plight of the homeless person with mental illness is desperately sad, but no one thinks of that when they make their jokes. Honestly, the idea of being homeless scares me to death, because my own financial situation is wrecked due to years of fighting to be recognized as legally disabled and only by the grace of my upper-middle-class parents am I not in a shelter or on the streets myself. I've lived unable to afford my medications, getting samples from a kind psychiatrist, and I cannot (not to mention will not) laugh at a person with mental illness on the streets. It's too close to home, and it's not fucking funny. I can far too easily see myself in that situation.
A lot of stories of mental illness are funny. Life is funny sometimes, and for people with mental illness, some of the things we do are just plain amusing. For us, making a joke of our own lives, our own stories, our own behaviors is a coping mechanism; it's a common enough coping mechanism, really. Almost everybody makes jokes about themselves. But that doesn't make us a big fucking joke. I am a person with mental illness, I am not a joke, and I am not the only one.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sometimes Mental Illness Really Just Bites
So I've been rapid-cycling here lately, ranging from near-suicidally depressed to so manic I can't sleep for--fuck, I don't know, over a day and a half, anyway.
Most of my posts about mental illness so far have been about the stigma, but right now I feel the need to address my illness itself.
I have schizoaffective disorder (bipolar subtype, and apparently rapid-cycling now), which means that without medications I hallucinate and become delusional (usually paranoid), and that my moods are all over the gorram map. Even with medications my moods are all over the map, as I am taking my meds as prescribed and STILL rapid-cycling.
I'm sincerely hoping I don't have to be inpatient again, because it's a pain in the ass. You have to eat and sleep (and smoke--shame on me) on someone else's schedule, which bugs the crap out of me. I don't mind keeping a schedule, but let me set it and let me be in charge of it as if I were an intelligent adult, which, despite my illness, I like to think I am.
I've let myself get off my schedule at home because I got sick with what transpired to be the allergy attack from hell, and maybe that's why everything went all pear-shaped on me here lately.
But earlier this week, I was struggling with the desire to harm myself, feeling that I was worthless and useless and deserved to be punished. Earlier today in a burst of weird optimism, I was job-hunting, knowing full well that I can't work.
This bouncing back and forth all over the emotional continuum is tiring. I'm so tired right now I can hardly see straight. The only part of me that's not tired is my brain which simply will not SHUT UP and let me sleep.
This is what I live with. This is my life right now, and I know I'm not the only one who lives with mood swings, sleeplessness, depression, self-injury urges, suicidal thoughts, etc. People who live with mental illness(es) have to put up with a form of hell no one but the cruelest would wish upon zir worst enemy.
And then, on top of all that, there's the stigma. The labels. The way people treat you like you're stupid, or too fragile to handle [insert whatever here], or like you might snap at any moment and start hurting people. The friends who don't know what to say or do when you finally get the guts up to tell them about your illness. The family who think you might hurt them, when you know damn good and well that you'd never do such a thing.
The illness is enough to fight sometimes, but I feel called to fight the stigma too. I feel like I have to be open about my illness and be articulate enough to show the world that crazy does not equal stupid, or violent, or any of the other nine zillion things that the general public seems to think apply to people with mental illness(es).
Right now, all I can fight is the illness. But I'll promise you this. I'll be back when I can, to fight the stigma too. I have to. To paraphrase from Maud (a commenter at Shakesville), if I don't speak up, I may not change anyone, but if I let the world silence me, I've let the world change me. I'm willing to change, but I'm not willing to be silenced. I have a voice. I have been privileged enough to receive a liberal arts education and typing skills and internet access to create this little corner of the 'Web, and I am damn sure going to use it.
Most of my posts about mental illness so far have been about the stigma, but right now I feel the need to address my illness itself.
I have schizoaffective disorder (bipolar subtype, and apparently rapid-cycling now), which means that without medications I hallucinate and become delusional (usually paranoid), and that my moods are all over the gorram map. Even with medications my moods are all over the map, as I am taking my meds as prescribed and STILL rapid-cycling.
I'm sincerely hoping I don't have to be inpatient again, because it's a pain in the ass. You have to eat and sleep (and smoke--shame on me) on someone else's schedule, which bugs the crap out of me. I don't mind keeping a schedule, but let me set it and let me be in charge of it as if I were an intelligent adult, which, despite my illness, I like to think I am.
I've let myself get off my schedule at home because I got sick with what transpired to be the allergy attack from hell, and maybe that's why everything went all pear-shaped on me here lately.
But earlier this week, I was struggling with the desire to harm myself, feeling that I was worthless and useless and deserved to be punished. Earlier today in a burst of weird optimism, I was job-hunting, knowing full well that I can't work.
This bouncing back and forth all over the emotional continuum is tiring. I'm so tired right now I can hardly see straight. The only part of me that's not tired is my brain which simply will not SHUT UP and let me sleep.
This is what I live with. This is my life right now, and I know I'm not the only one who lives with mood swings, sleeplessness, depression, self-injury urges, suicidal thoughts, etc. People who live with mental illness(es) have to put up with a form of hell no one but the cruelest would wish upon zir worst enemy.
And then, on top of all that, there's the stigma. The labels. The way people treat you like you're stupid, or too fragile to handle [insert whatever here], or like you might snap at any moment and start hurting people. The friends who don't know what to say or do when you finally get the guts up to tell them about your illness. The family who think you might hurt them, when you know damn good and well that you'd never do such a thing.
The illness is enough to fight sometimes, but I feel called to fight the stigma too. I feel like I have to be open about my illness and be articulate enough to show the world that crazy does not equal stupid, or violent, or any of the other nine zillion things that the general public seems to think apply to people with mental illness(es).
Right now, all I can fight is the illness. But I'll promise you this. I'll be back when I can, to fight the stigma too. I have to. To paraphrase from Maud (a commenter at Shakesville), if I don't speak up, I may not change anyone, but if I let the world silence me, I've let the world change me. I'm willing to change, but I'm not willing to be silenced. I have a voice. I have been privileged enough to receive a liberal arts education and typing skills and internet access to create this little corner of the 'Web, and I am damn sure going to use it.
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