Bleeding Ink is back. Been about a year and a half since the last entry. Various reasons for not writing anything. But ultimately, I can’t not do this. A writer writes. I’ve written since I was just lil Bleeding Ink. It’s how I process things. How I remember things. I write to heal my pain. To rage. To laugh. To cry. To stop crying. To breathe. I write because I have to….
Before I go on, I should probably give a heads-up that this blog includes a picture of a brain surgery scar in the healing process. We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog, already in progress.
Specifically, the topic that brought me back to the blog was the death of Carrie Fisher. When I read that she had died, I teared up (ok I cried) in a way I hadn’t with other celebrities that passed in 2016.
But it wasn’t because of Star Wars. She readily admitted that she’ll always be known as Princess Leia, but that wasn’t what brought the tears. Nor was it the fact that she was a bad-ass in those movies, whether you thought of her as Princess Leia or as General Organa. Rather, it was her being a bad-ass in real life. It was that she was so open and honest about the fact that she had bipolar disorder. She was an OG advocate for mental illness, talking about it when it was a lot more taboo than it is today. She helped lessen the prejudice people have. I admired the hell outta Carrie Fisher and her bravery and candor.
Kid Cudi was also an inspiration, admitting himself for suicidal thoughts and depression, and causing men, in particular black men, to come together and create #YouGoodMan which trended on twitter for several days. Those two, as well as some fellow mental health fighters (because we do fight. Every day.) pushed me to be brave and put this out there for the world to read.
See kids the thing is, this blog post has been two years in the making. I began it the very day Robin Williams was found dead. August 2014. Started out as a tribute to him and his comedic genius. But then it evolved into talking about mental illness. The entry then sat here for a couple weeks. Unfinished. Then for a month. Then a couple months. Oh I’d come back to it. Add some stuff. Delete some stuff. Re-add the original stuff and add more. Delete it all and start over. You get the idea. But I would never dare publish it.
Oh and I had links too! So many links! Links to studies, links from peer-reviewed papers, links showing physical changes in the brain of people with chronic depression, I even had links with results of Functional MRI (fMRI) that showed what a brain in the midst of a severe depressive episode looks like vs a “normal” brain.
But the funny thing (funny/ironic, not funny/ha-ha) about having anxiety is that you are usually too anxious to write about it! And definitely too anxious to publish it! So I suppose I wanted to find link after link so y’all wouldn’t just think to yourselves, “Oh he’s crazy.” “Depression? Yeah that’s not a real thing. Just be happy.” “Anxiety? Why would you be anxious around us, we’re your friends.” Or the ever popular “Happiness is a choice.”
Figured if I had science behind it, you would all be convinced that “mental illness” doesn’t just consist of Alzheimer’s or Parkinsons. It isn’t just some guy hearing voices that tell him to kill people at an airport. Mental illness isn’t just someone talking to herself, convinced the aliens are coming. I suppose I hoped you’d read this entry and if I had enough links to back it up, you wouldn’t think, “Dude. That Bleeding Ink, yeah um, he cray. Wow. Who knew he was that messed up, yikes. Let’s just back away from this friendship.”
But now I realize I don’t need 9 million links. There are a few in this entry, but ultimately, I can’t change anybody’s mind. And that’s ok. It has to be. I can’t vanish the negative bias people have around it. Not by myself. I’m not a scientist working on the latest research into mental illness. I can’t show you that 40 million of us aren’t “crazy” or “just sad.” You either believe it’s a real thing and that I work my ass off every day to function as a stable human being, or you don’t.
It’s depression so bad that some days you can’t even find the energy to go outside. It’s when you develop such awful anxiety after having 2 back-to-back emergency shunt surgeries that you lose 28 lbs in a couple months because you stop eating, because your stomach hurts all the time. Meanwhile, you do that thing people do on social media where you may not flat-out lie in a post, but certainly you are giving just the “highlight reel” of your life. You only post the good stuff. So friends had no idea what you’re dealing with, and so they compliment you on your weight loss. “Yo, you look fantastic, how are you staying so slim??”
Anxiety so bad that you have thoughts that you know, you KNOW, are not logical. But you have them anyway. You have thoughts that you can’t explain to anybody because as soon as you try, it doesn’t make any sense even to you coming out of your own mouth.
“Oh um, you’re wondering whyyyyyyyyy I drove around and around your house, too anxious to stop and knock on the door even tho you’re my metaphorical sisters that I’ve known for years? Oh. Well. See. The thing is….”
And it doesn’t matter what the thing is. Because the “thing” is that unless you’ve experienced this yourself, you’ll never know. And you may have compassion for it, and you may believe this type of mental illness is real. You may know that science says it’s complicated; that environment and your experiences both play roles. A myriad of reasons, not yet fully understood, keep you in that dark place. But you won’t know what it actually feels like. Because your brain’s not broken. So you can empathize, but never really know.
Flip-side of empathy means you’ll never know because you don’t believe it. Your emotions get the better of you and you can’t imagine how your friend, your “brother”, could suddenly create all these scenarios in his head that paralyze him from calling you, or make him drive around and around your house and not pull over and go say hi. And I can understand how it doesn’t help convince you that mental illness is real, whenever you get on social media and see a post or a picture where the person with anxiety somehow has the courage to attend a show with the spouse, or an award ceremony for a relative, but can’t go visit you in the hospital after you had your first child. You see that and hey, what else are you supposed to think?? You get angry. And I don’t blame you. It’s hard to understand what happens in a mind filled with anxiety.
For many people, including this writer, anxiety and depression can be a lifelong companion. Triggered by abuse of some kind, or sudden disability, by the loss of a child, too many trips to the ER due to chronic condition, or by nothing at all. And it more than likely comes and goes. Ebbing and flowing, sometimes kept at bay, completely asymptomatic. Sometimes overwhelming.
And it can be a lonely existence. People won’t understand you. People will think that you’re simply unmotivated or a homebody, when you’re really in the throes of another depressive episode. Or they might see you as irresponsible when actually you’re having a panic attack.
Rather than in class where you’re supposed to be, you might be hiding in some corner of a building someplace, maybe in a bathroom on campus, unable to breathe, freaking out about something that in all likelihood is not happening and won’t happen.
And whereas anxiety will tell you everyone is pointing and laughing at you, secretly talking about you behind your back, depression will tell you there’s no point in doing anything about it. #DepressionLies and tells you no one wants to hear you. It convinces you that even your best friend will get tired of you if you complain too much. Mental illness convinces you not to go outside and get some fresh air, not to reach out to people, don’t make that phone call. The very things you need to do to help yourself are the very things mental illness says you shouldn’t do. *That’s* irony! (And not the Alanis kind.)
Anxiety tells you that if you do make that phone call, you’ll say something completely ridiculous and look like a huge idiot. It whispers –no, it screams!– in your ear, “Say something. Don’t just sit there silent. Oh my god so awkward, you’re such a loser, just hang up.” Your humble writer was so thankful when texting became a thing. Still, I learned at 12 years old it’s difficult to keep friends when you don’t actually call them every once in a while.
So to those that have stayed, thank you. My loving wife, who knows it’s real, who has literally helped me breathe on the really bad days, thank you. My family. The friends that check in when they notice that I’m isolating again. Thank you. Thank you for staying.
And to the ones that have left, I don’t blame you. Really.
And thank you, General, for being the bad-ass you always were and will always be.
If you are having a mental health crisis and need someone to talk to, please contact the Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text HOME to 741741
#EndTheSilence #EndTheStigma #AFSP #NSPW
#TalkingAboutIt #NotAshamed #320changesdirection #IAmTheChange #IKeptLiving
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Pffft a choice. Like that feeling of dread and nausea I had earlier today was because I got on the wrong side of the happy train! Lord!😐
xo, another broken brain! Lol!!
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This is fucking amazing. So many times I have that same litany: Cheer up. You have your health (um not. My brain is broken). This from family. From Dr.’s: oh let me give you this pill. Take one every four hours and you’ll be fine. Except it screwed me up worse. Made my paranoia explode. Made my anxiety feel like def con five. From friends: get therapy- get help get normal or we’re not your friends anymore. So done with this shit.
Thank you for writing this.
Reblogged this on Red Ink Ramblings and commented:
I haven’t been able to write, because the shit going on in my head the past few weeks has had me in a state of numb existing. But it’s getting better. In the meantime, however, this post says so much that needs to be said. It’s long, but it’s worth the read.
This was wonderful. ❤
My inner anxiety voice: "Don't comment that. That's stupid. This is a serious subject. You're calling mental illness awareness 'wonderful'? Seriously?
Me: "That's not what I meant. He'll get that."
Inner anxiety voice: "But, taken a face-value, can you argue that those words in that order aren't inappropriate? No."
Me: "It'll be fine."
Anxiety: "No it won't."
Me: "Fuck you."
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Lol 😅 Yes I understand completely. Second guessing everything you say is a particular talent of mine. ☺️ I’m glad you related and enjoyed this entry.
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You write “…but ultimately, I can’t change anybody’s mind. And that’s ok. It has to be. I can’t vanish the negative bias people have around it. Not by myself”………”You either believe it’s a real thing and that I work my ass off every day to function as a stable human being, or you don’t”
What YOU can do is this…. you can write (and you write very well), you can post, and you can educate on any level that you are comfortable doing. And you CAN, actually, change some people’s minds. By what you do and write, you CAN. Possibly. Help someone, or motivate them to seek help elsewhere. And that possibiliy should keep you motivated.
You are right! You cannot, and should not attempt to do it all. You do it one article for groups like this (or in other media), or you do it one person, one family at time. That’s the way I approach it in my work in Guatemala… and you know what? Sometimes you hit the jackpot and affect a whole bunch of people, and you do your work over time (Guatemala started in 2002)…. and you realize “Holy Crap, I’ve affected a lot of people!!”
Keep on doing what you’re doing. One person, one day at a time. This is an outstanding article. It’s working. You can tell just by reading these responses. Write more!
I can tell the time, care, and love that went into this post. Thank you for speaking it, thank you for sharing.
Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed it.
I can see the weeks and months (and years) that went into this essay. As a fellow tribe member, thank you for giving firm to so many of the villains that hoard premium space in our brains every day.
The virtual world is a haven in many ways, as you mentioned, a haven that allows us to pick the face we want to share. I suppose I knew that, but you depicted this gift/curse accurately, and I hear the gentle reminder not to let the virtual world deform the actual me, or the me that others see.
As a guy, my efforts to ensure I’m seen as a “guy’s guy” often leave me hiding from the world for weeks at a time when I’m less than the persona I think I’m supposed to be.
Well… this has clearly become a long and rambling comment. But I hope you see this as a testament to the strength of ur message (rather than my tendency to ramble after a prolonged and isolated funk) a message that, for awhile at least, reminds me it’s ok to be crazy.
Thank you and hope u keep writing
a thousand yeses
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Love this, love you. I struggle as well.
I know you do ❤️ I’m glad you can relate. ❤️
I love this. I have dealt with ptsd, anxiety and depression practically my whole life, and was so used to people saying “you have depression, you’re not mentally ill” that I actually said this to my classmates in a peer program several years ago. I have been in either group or individual therapy practically my entire adult life, and it’s taken me a long time to deal with all the labels people put on my struggles. For a long time I focused solely on my physical disability, and ignored what it was doing to me mentally. It sucks having to deal with all of what I’ve been through, but I like myself most of the time, and I think I’d be a different person if I hadn’t gone through what I have. I’ve met some of the most incredible people who have had similar struggles, and I don’t know what I’d do without some of them, so for that I’m forever grateful.
Words cannot express how powerful your post is. You’ve perfectly captured the frustration I’ve felt in almost every relationship in my life. Always keep fighting for yourself. Your tribe is with you. 💙
Thank you, so happy you enjoyed it. 💙
The only reason I am a functional human being is because I take a pill every morning and sometimes at night. Without said pill, I cannot get out of bed and I cannot function. PERIOD.
It’s incredibly fun being a devout Christian and suffering from anxiety/depression because I get asked if I’ve prayed about or if I’ve tried meditation.
NO!!!! I TOTALLY DIDN’T THINK OF THAT!!!! HOW WONDERFUL OF YOU TO SUGGEST IT!!!!
I’m so sorry you’re surrounded by people who think that way. It’s infuriating. 😕
Thankfully, I’m part of a church that understands now and who loves me through it.
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