I Promise I’m Crazier Than You, And That’s Okay

There is a lot of shaming around mental illness, partly because I think there is a lack of understanding about what it is. The most shaming, I think, comes from people who are deep in the bowels of it, who refuse to let go, or who don’t know how to let go.

So, let’s get this out of the way: if you suffer from depression, anxiety, obsessive thinking, drinking, drugging, mania, suicidal thoughts, or anything else that exists in your mind but that you can somehow effectively disguise in at least one facet of your life as something other than an illness, let me tell you: stop. Let go. Be as crazy as you think you are. Let people hate you if that’s what you need. Let things fall apart, and then you can put them back together. I’ve been doing that over and over, and I can tell you: it’s awful. Horrendous. FULL of suffering. 

Also? My life is pretty fucking awesome, so clearly something is working in all this.

So, when you put things back together, don’t forget to leave out the shame of having a mental illness. Maybe you don’t have any shame. Maybe you hate the phrase “mental illness” so much that you keep wincing reading this. If you’re like me, you’re personally offended, not that you’d tell anyone, because you’re hiding your mental illness from everyone anyway.

Also? You have a mental illness. Or maybe you don’t, but I do. MENTAL. ILLNESS.

MENTAL! ILLNESS!

Do you feel appropriately embarrassed on my behalf? Why is it that we as a society think that we have to suffer in silence, when ALL we want is to do the opposite? Do you know HOW many friends you have out there, desperate for you?

For years I went through a myriad of diagnoses with doctors over what it was, besides having a stunningly fucked-up childhood, that would cure me of my woes. I have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, depression, severe anxiety, and have tried all of the drugs for all of the diagnoses. Most of them did not work. I have been on Wellbutrin, Paxil, Lamictal, Lithium, Xanax, Zoloft, Prozac, Lexapro and a few others that I cannot even remember, but they all sound vaguely like STDs. Chlamydia? Gonorrhea? Yeah, I think I’ve tried those too.

There is a time, not very long ago, that I would never, ever tell you any of this. So embarrassing! And then I thought, “Embarrassing for WHO?” Just like I used to not talk about childhood sexual abuse, because I was so ashamed. How fucked up is that? A five year old gets abused, and she’s the one who feels shame? Fucked. Up. A girl is raped and she’s the one who has to hide? Fucked. Up.

Listen, it’s not so different with mental illness. There is NO reason to carry the burden of shame. I don’t know why you have it, but let it go.

So, I am here to tell you: you will feel better, if you take care of yourself, and drop the shame that you’re unfixable, or it’s all hopeless (tricky, since that’s a side effect of the illness). You are really quite boring, if we’re speaking statistically, at least in America (26.2 percent of us!). And if you’re on medication and/or in therapy, you’re much smarter than most people in your situation, because you’re doing something. Maybe tell someone else what your special drug of choice is, without feeling embarrassed or ashamed because THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

Just like there is nothing shameful about having suffered sexual assault or abuse. Okay? It’s a thing that happened, that has absolutely nothing to do with your personal character, strength, intelligence, appearance or your Magic 8 Ball future self.

Let go, and be peaceful, have no shame, and most importantly: take your medication.