lately a few things have pointed to the same direction.
the fact that i’ve been shamelessly binge watching shameless and the whole ian gallagher thing i’ve seen enough spoilers about, a conversation with my dad, random life occurrences…
everything made me realize how much mental illnesses are misunderstood.
oh my god.
people put down these things so much.
mental illnesses are, as their name suggests, illnesses.
and even so, seeking a doctor for help is the absolute last choice.
people show and admit to having all symptoms of depression, but they don’t go see a psychologist for help, no. because psychologists are for really-nuts-crazy-insane people who maybe tried to kill themselves or set their house on fire.
people wait until the last moment, wait until the biggest damage has been done.
people struggle so much with having to accept the idea that getting help = good.
getting help = not a sign of weakness.
and this is true both for people who need treatment and people around them.
i guess i would be much more less willing of asking for help if i knew how much of a social stigma it carries, amirite????
i mean: it’s like having a broken limb.
what’s the first thing you do when you realize you have a broken limb?
you f*cking go to the hospital.
do you feel bad for that? do you feel weak? no, holycakes.
plus, people just don’t think about how hard it is to have a mental illness.
just because it doesn’t physically show, doesn’t mean it’s not there.
broken limb = oh, that cast looks heavy. it must have hurt a lot when you fell down the stairs. i’m so sorry for you, wait, let me carry you around and fetch you things and help you since you’re not able to move.
depression = oh. what? are you saying you’re not able to move because you feel bad? you can’t physically get out of bed? stop saying bullshit and avoiding your responsibilities, you know we had that thing planned for months, it’s your fault your illness decided to pop up at the wrong moment. what illness, then? you’re just being a drama queen, get up and stop being such a pussy.
having a mental illness is just like having another random illness.
your body is ill. whether it’s your stomach or your brain.
something with your whole being is wrong, and it needs a doctor to get better.
are there any chances your broken limb will readjust itself without the help of a doctor, just because you magically pray upon it and really really really get your heart into it?
99.9% no. 0.1% it will do, but with endlessly greater pain and probably much more side problems.
what with your sick brain?
so why are people so skeptic about psychologists and not-so-much about, let’s say, surgeons?
why the first reaction to someone showing mental illnesses’ symptoms is “get over it”? “put a smile on your face”? “go out with friends”? “everyone has their bad days, everyone feels this way”?
yes, everyone feels the same way if i smash their limbs.
but everyone would go the doctor if i did that and slowly recover and in the end, eventually, “get over it”.
and i would recognize i did something a tad insane and get the help i need. and wouldn’t be ashamed for it, because why the heck would you be???!?
so, stumbling upon posts like this (bless bekah miles’ words!!!!!!!) or pieces like these – makes me realize the world is slowly waking up.
and if i got this, then the world’s one step closer to getting this, and by this i mean ‘its sh*t together’.
you get this too and it will be another small step closer.
(i said it. ooh. sorry, i had to do that. won’t probably be the last on my views.
thank you for reading through this whole thing, but i like you, you already know that. keep being awesome.)
EDIT: UPDATE: surfing on tumblr i discovered that there’s another group of people.
people who think mental illnesses are ‘cute’. people who wish they had one.
to these people i respond only: yeah, as if we all want a broken limb.
what. the. heck.