The Feel Of Free

“Depression in the clinical sense is a really hard thing for people to empathize with. There’s this bootstraps approach, like, “Why don’t you get out of bed and get a job! It’s all up to you.” But that isn’t for everyone. There is a time when you realize: “Whoa, you’re sick just as if your leg was rotting off.” David Foster Wallace is a hero of mine, and I read an interview with his wife where she said that everyone was shocked when he killed himself, but if he had pancreatic cancer, no one would have been shocked. The guy was not well. I know a lot of people that have been afflicted by anxiety and debilitating depression. It takes this momentum: If you’re not pushing the boulder up the hill, it’s rolling down on you.” — Craig Finn 

I’m not even going to put this in the tags, because this is something really important to me and I’m not going to hide it in a place where people might not even see it or will ignore or Karp will cut me off. 

People who believe that the bootstraps approach is realistic in all cases of depression are delusional, narrow-minded morons. Get out of bed and get a job - wow, what a thoughtful thing for you to say! People don’t realize that not only does depression have lasting emotional effects, it has serious physical effects as well. My stomach problems can be 100% attributed to my depression and anxiety - I have tried numerous diets, attempting to cut out foods to see which would affect my body in what way, and no matter what I ate, no matter if I cut out meat and dairy, my stomach was still a mess. I read an article in the NY Times about a year ago that discussed Charles Darwin’s depression and how he faced numerous stomach problems because of it. When depressed, people are often achy, experience migraines, etc. 

Also, the whole “it’s all in your head!” argument is completely irrelevant. If I punched you in the diaphragm and you were in massive amounts of pain, guess what? The pain would ALL COME FROM THE SIGNALS IN YOUR BRAIN TELLING YOU THAT YOU GOT PUNCHED IN THE FUCKING DIAPHRAGM. SO THAT’S ALL IN YOUR HEAD TOO, ASSHOLE. 

Craig Finn makes that remark about pushing a boulder up a hill, and that’s a very accurate metaphor for depression. To fight depression and anxiety, you have to constantly work work work, and all that work is absolutely exhausting. Often I was too exhausted to go to school because I spent so much time trying to sort out and deal with my numerous emotional issues - which, of course, is the lovely Catch-22 about depression. You work so hard to fight it that it sucks the life out of you, you stop to take a breath, and then suddenly everything, all the progress you’ve made, comes crashing back and topples you. 

I have never understood why there’s such a social stigma around depression, anxiety, and every other mental illness - I legitimately have no idea why a good number of people are quick to dismiss such afflictions and believe that they’re all false or trivial or what have you. 

(Source: youdsay)

i don’t make my schedule flexible. i don’t do meetings before 10am. i don’t explain why. i’m not available to work on weekends. sometimes i won’t get shit done on time. i don’t go out to drinks with my classmates. i don’t get personal with them. i’m not that friendly. i don’t like small talk. i do the work and i leave. i don’t explain why. 

the reason is to protect myself. 

depression is not something that comes out only when i have a breakdown. it’s something that sits on my back 24/7. all the time. that affects my work in ways able-minded people don’t understand and are usually intolerant of. 

i surf the net in class not because i don’t give a fuck about the material, but because i literally cannot focus on things for consecutive minutes. i need to be doing several things in order to absorb what’s happening in one. i need to focus, then break it, then focus, then break it, over and over because my brain can’t sustain a long period of paying attention. i used to think this was adhd before a therapist informed me it was common among people with depression. when i’m studying or doing readings, it’s shitty because i can barely read a page continually without needing to break off and come back. i end up going paragraph by paragraph sometimes. 

i don’t do weekends and early mornings because they’re scheduled for me. because when i didn’t schedule myself in, i would repeatedly overwork myself, overload my schedule, then have a huge breakdown and crash into panic attacks and suicidality. after my first suicide scare, i had to reduce my courseload to be able to function, i had to schedule 10-11 hours for sleep every night, to balance work and class and capoeira training and time with friends. i had to be uncompromising about it, even when classmates were rude and got pissy because i wouldn’t change my schedule to suit theirs. your schedule probably won’t escalate to a life or death situation. mine easily can.

sometimes i can’t do work because the depression paralyzes me, or because the anxiety freezes me in a loop of “FUCK i’m not getting any work done” “FUCK i’m not going to get any work done” #panic #panic “FUCK i’m panicking and therefore i’m not going to get any work done” and then i don’t meet deadlines and people think i’m lazy.

thing is, i am not obliged to explain ANY of this to my colleagues and classmates. especially when their response is most likely going to be ableist and minimizing to my experience. i am not obliged to flay my life open just to justify the accommodations i need, just so other people can sign off on my decisions. fuck peer approval. if you don’t affect my grades, i am fresh outta fucks. 

so i notify my professors, i notify when i can’t get shit done on time, i negotiate extensions and my registration with the disabilities center protects me in ways i know my classmates won’t, in ways i wouldn’t be able to. they advocate for me. and now if i’m having a rough week, i let myself have the rough week, and i get back to work when i can. 

i don’t identify as disabled, but i officially have a psychological disability and i’ll stay a bitch because society is fucking ableist and i do whatever the fuck is necessary to keep me alive and functioning. 

i regret nothing. 

youarenotyou:

“I was so scared to give up depression, fearing that somehow the worst part of me was actually all of me.”

—

Elizabeth Wurtzel  (via lavandula)

SHARING TIME

so. i’m terrified to be okay. i don’t know what will be left of me without all the twisted hurt and darkness. i don’t know if i’ll be able to write. i have no idea what i look like without the depression, the suicidality, the anxiety. what if i’m boring? what if what makes me me is inextricably linked to those parts of me?

ugh.

(Source: sinkingseas)

youarenotyou:

fuckyeahdostoevsky:

You’re just a pawn.: let’s unpack “special snowflakes”.

youarenotyou:

[tw: this conversation addresses dismissive & oppressive behavior, including ableism, cissexism and gender binarism.]

Okay. So “special snowflake” is generally used to insult people who are perceived as going to great lengths to be seen as unique individuals, right? It’s…

Adding my thoughts to the “special snowflake” debate.  My problem with “special snowflakes” is that they INSIST on letting everyone know just how special they are.  I know many people who play video games but also like wearing high heels, or play sports and have friends who are guys or like death metal or whatever we’re defining as “not being an average girl.”  But unless it’s brought up in conversation, they don’t feel the need to tell you that they play video games/play sports/like death metal/are not an average girl.  Special snowflakes make sure you know that they aren’t average, and they want you to be proud of them for it.  And (I know, this is where it’s going to get offensive) I feel the same way about people who have a mental disorder, diagnosed or not.  There are many people who legitimately have something; I don’t argue against this nor do I doubt it.  I do think, however, that a lot of the people who make sure you know that they have depression, or bipolar disorder or whatever, without any reason are trying to differentiate themselves from the “norm.”  It’s different if you tell people to explain your behaviours or help people better understand what you’re going through.  This isn’t what I’m talking about.  The people I’m talking about are the people who wear it as a badge of specialness and expect people to treat them as special because of it.  These are the people who put it in their “About Me” on Tumblr, so that everyone sees it and acknowledges them as special.  Frankly, I have never met a person truly struggling with a mental illness who openly tells strangers about their experience.  Most people I know want to sweep it under the rug and pretend to be fine, and have a difficult time telling those around them what they’re going through, even if they desperately want to.  This is what the term “special snowflake” refers to.  Absolutely everyone can be a special snowflake because everyone has something “unique” about them.  As far as I’m considered, normalcy doesn’t exist.  It’s like the idea of perfection; it is a social construct so we know what to judge ourselves against, but nobody is that thing (by definition of the concept).  So even if you are a white, heterosexual, cisgendered, neurotypical, physically abled, Christian, upper-middle class man, you are a “special snowflake” if you insist on everyone knowing that you are.

People should introduce themselves as people, not as a collection of labels.  “Special snowflakes” don’t know who they are outside of those labels that they’ve chosen for themselves.  That’s what makes them special snowflakes. 

Does that make sense?

Sweet mother of god, shut the fuck up. Yes I know that you think I’m a special snowflake seeing as how you called me that a week ago. Seriously this is the most passive aggressive jab at me that I have ever seen on the whole internet. Yes, I do tell people I am bipolar because it’s part of my fucking goddamn identity. I refuse to be fucking shamed or silenced and pretend I’m neurotypical. Maybe the reason you have never met someone who was open about their MI is because you’re so clearly and openly an ableist douchebag. I also tell people I play video games because it’s my fucking hobby, which men are never criticized for doing because it’s fucking expected.

“Labels” are how people who don’t fit into social norms assert their identities because otherwise labels ARE FORCED UPON US. *You* don’t see it because it’s not applicable to you because your “labels” are the default. FFS, stop fucking replying to my posts with this nauseating bullshit.

um, the italicized + bolded part? who the fuck is this horrible person? oh dear heavens, i really didn’t want to get involved in this discussion but i’m fucking livid. you’re basically saying, most people are ashamed of their mental illnesses and hide it, AND I LIKE IT LIKE THAT BECAUSE IF YOU BRING IT UP, YOU JUST WANT PREFERENTIAL TREATMENT. 

you are an ableist asshole. 

i talk about my depression all the fucking time, just like i talk about how i play capoeira and how i’m nigerian and how i like my cats and my kitchen. i also talk about it because that silence you’re referring to, that silence you’d prefer we keep about what we live with, IT FUCKING KILLS PEOPLE. and it would have killed me.

i talk about it to help myself, but according to this nonsensical being, i should only talk about it to help others understand. god forbid i do it for my own reasons. BREAK THE SILENCE TO MAKE OTHER PEOPLE MORE COMFORTABLE, Y’ALL, DON’T DO IT FOR YOURSELF. because then you just wanna be different and special and get treated differently. 

i’m done. i second the bolded shut the fuck up bit.

not entering this convo with someone like this again. because when i rain down curses from Amadioha on them, someone will come and blame me for their misfortunes in life. 

nonsense. 

youarenotyou:

thisisnotpsychology:

““The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.””

—

David Foster Wallace (via chvnx, awayfromlight)

(via astronauts-deactivated20110530)

Will always reblog DFW quotes.