And for my next trick...!

I don't have a next trick.

Dear readers,

May I say how privileged I feel that people actually read this? No, seriously. The fact that people would find what I write interesting enough to fit into their already hectic schedules means a lot. Everything we take in is designed to be fast and easy - news posts, tweets, television commercials. The reason it's all tailored to be fast and easy on the uptake is because we all lead really fucking busy lives. People juggle jobs that barely pay rent, families, pets, friends, loved ones, illness. We are not our grandparents' generation. We do not have the same job for 25 years. We do not have the optimism that marriage is forever and that our partner will stick with us through everything. We have mutiple careers, multiple partners, and true community feels sometimes as though it's a thing of the past.

So, the idea that with all that going on, someone would be interested in reading my rants is quite inspiring and humbling.

I've been pretty flippant about mental health and addictions in my blog. I make inappropriate jokes, I try to make light of things. I tell myself that I do this because I want to destigmatize some of the scary topics out there: mental illness, addiction, suicide - I haven't begun to broach the really socially awkward subjects like, I don't know, child pornography and euthanasia. What can I say - I write about what I know.

The thing is - what DO I know? I speak about my struggles (sometimes seriously, sometimes in jest) but I can't generalize my struggles with others'. My experiences are mine - but not necessarily the experience with others who have the same diagnosis, a similar family history, the same prescription.

Perhaps it is because of the particular degree I took in university, the learning I've done on my own, the personal experiences I've had - I've felt pretty outspoken about some of the more taboo subjects that I talk about in my writing. I've never felt judged, misunderstood, or marginalized because of my experiences. My group of friends and loved ones are well-educated, tolerant, experienced. I have been lucky. As for having to work while going through mental health problems, I've been VERY lucky. After all, there isn't much marginalization of a mentally ill employee when you work in the mental health profession. Sure, it can be hard, but it's like getting MRSA when you work as a nurse - people fucking get it.

What am I trying to say? I'm starting to understand what it's like to actually be read and judged based on a diagnosis, on a medical history, and on the stories I have told. In this particular case, it was out of nothing but kindness and concern, but I think I have experienced something I've only read about and seen in proxy based on my social work (lucky me). I haven't been careful about sharing the stories I have, and for that, I have risked being defined because of them.

I won't go into details because they aren't important. In any way. I'm just going to say that what I feel tonight is probably 1/100th of what most people with mental health problems or addictions feel. And if I had felt all of that, I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror, which would be a shame, because I am human, and I am beautiful. Right now, I feel dirty, ashamed, and above all, messed up beyond belief. I initially didn't want to blog about feelings that sad and personal, but on the other hand, I've been pretty nonchalant about sharing everything else. It's just not real if I don't include the shit. And let me tell you - the shit ain't pretty.

Going to bed, but looking forward to a new day -

PS