I Have Mental Illness - Part 2 (Age of Ultron)

I wrote a post in 2014 about ‘coming out’ as a person with mental illness. I reposted it a couple of times, and I’m still happy with it.  Truthfully, I should have just updated it every year.  It’s no knock on the original, but it should be noted that this is a process that will go on until the day I die.  It’s okay to be reminded that you still have this problem and that you not only have made significant strides, but you still have work to do.

I still have mental illness.  I still am medicated and I check in with talk therapy when I need it and when I can afford it.  That equates to about four to six sessions at the beginning of the year.  (Despite daily doses of vitamin D, I still feel it the most with the days are shortest.) That is my regimen at this point.  I also check in with a podcast called Mental Illness Happy Hour which reminds me that I’m not alone in this process. That is the most important ingredient to all of this.  You have to fight the feeling of being alone.  In my daily life, I am quite alone.  I work alone and my wife works inconsistent hours.  I have a lot of ‘me’ time.  That’s not always a good thing.

Trying to pinpoint my remaining issues is a full-time job. Loneliness and my lack of friends is a big one.  Connection to the human race is very important, but I have yet to figure out how to comfortably work my way in. What I’ve learned is that ‘making friends’ is impossible.  That is just something that happens rarely in life, like double rainbows and finding something to watch on Netflix. I should be open to the experience.  It could happen. But as the years go on I realize there aren’t as many opportunities.  As I was told when I was younger, I have a lot to say.  I crave people to ‘say it all’ to.  I also like to know when I’m full of shit.  I can only get that with the company of others and listening to what they have to say. I have not been able to either accept the futility of this situation or how to successfully solve the problem.

I mentioned in the previous post about the scene of Yasgur’s farm after Woodstock.  Just a post-apocalyptic wasteland full of trampled grass, mud, and trash. That is what your mind is after you begin treatment. You look back on your actions and reactions to everything life threw at you and discover how mental illness influenced all of your moves.  But now you know the virus that causes the glitch, but you still have a life full of those trained reactions.  You have the muscle memory of a person with depression or anxiety.  You know now how to think better, but that does not directly equate to doing better.  That is the other half of all of this.  Doing better.

One of my deep, deep issues is my feeling of being invisible. I know where it comes from.  That mystery has been solved. But now what do I do?  I am genuinely surprised when anyone, even close friends…even my kids…remembers anything I have said or done.  I have a genuine sense of surprise.  They listened to me?  They remember that?  I am brutally honest here.  I can’t believe that I have made an impression on anyone in forty-five years.  That is the cost of feeling invisible.  I believe no one has any interest in my life or anything I have to say.  If you compliment me, I doubt your sincerity. When I feel like I’m being ignored, I feel that it’s an attack.  If someone cuts me off in conversation, what I had to say must be worthless. My wife will walk around during a chat to go change clothes or get a drink, and I feel like a little kid abandoned in a department store.

Now take those underlying, everyday feelings and apply that to your ability to promote yourself.  I’m a writer.  I write fun books I want people to read.  The only way to make that happen is to promote yourself and tell strangers that your work is good and worth their time and money.  This may shock you, but that is a tall order for me.  The avenues are there.  It’s a steep climb for anyone who writes.  But to me, it is like climbing Everest with a sofa on your back.  Barefoot.  With a broken arm. And there is a Kodiak bear on the sofa. With a litter of cubs.

It’s hard.

I guess I can write whatever I feel like in here.  There are dozens of thoughts I have about this subject but today responsibility is on my mind.  When someone says they struggle with mental illness, I infer that there is a fight in progress.  They have an eating disorder.  They are coping with trauma.  They are trying to find the right meds for their depression.  What I mean is, I hope this means there is a battle between the condition and the person trying to overcome it. Using mental illness as an excuse just pisses me off.  It is a reason, not an excuse.  I have sympathy for those of you who have not admitted it to themselves or figured out how to seek help. I’m not talking about them.  It’s that small segment that has legitimate issues, but instead of engaging in a treatment or a healthy way to cope, they use it as an excuse for flaky, or just shitty behavior. They have decided to make it the world’s problem to deal with. That doesn’t help you or the rest of us with the perception of a condition that can’t be seen.  You are either a whiny child or an asshole.

Triggers exist.  They are a real thing.  However, the world doesn’t care. It’s your responsibility to deal with them as they come. I don’t believe in trigger warnings.  I don’t believe any college should cite them at the beginning of a lecture, or any writer should cite them at the beginning of an article. One of mine is high winds.  Should I ask nature to cut the crap during storm season?  Your issues are your business.  If you are an adult, you learn to cope.  That is your job.  If we are people with a shred of basic humanity, our job is to recognize your struggle and respect your progress.  We all have our own shit.  We can’t arrange the world around you to fit your needs.  Unless you are a rich celebrity.  The again, we all know how mentally fit those people are.

I could prattle on forever.  There are so many dumb opinions I’d like to unleash upon the world.  Maybe I’ll break them up and write about them later.  (Remember, as noted above, I am shocked you’ve made it this far.) I wanted to update my echo chamber on my journey. I wanted to reaffirm that all of this is indeed real and ongoing. I wanted to make sure that you know that you are not alone.  Whether you have mental illness or are trying to understand it, there are millions just like you.