in addition to the flowers, may brings many things to our conscious’ surface…
it’s also mental health awareness month.
i question the need for such a thing. of course, my mental health isn’t the soundest. anxiety and depression association of america made a list of facts and statistics regarding the most common types of mental disorders.
i’ve been seeing this therapist, and i love her. she is amazing. but she can only do much to help me. she can only offer so much counsel… can only hear so much of my story… can only contribute so much to an attempt at recovery.
if i’m not willing to make the effort… to do the homework she’s assigned, tasks that are not difficult things, yall… read a pamphlet. walk for twenty minutes one day a week… write little notes to myself of positive affirmations… recognize when my thoughts are tanking and change their course… if i’m too reluctant or too disinterested in doing the work… then what good does visiting with her do? i’m wasting her time. i’m wasting mine.
i’ve told her the ugliest stuff… things i’ve never told anyone… and she still thinks i’m awesome, which i love. but my thoughts have been circling around the knowledge that i’m not learning from my mistakes. that i’m still making the wrong choices, even though i know better.
my brain is categorizing all the ways my mind is damaged. wikipedia’s got a comprehensive list of all the mental disorders, and i’m sure were i to read the symptoms of each, i could say i’m plagued by the majority of them. the mental anguish from which i suffer could be caused by a genetic predisposition. it could be because i incurred trauma during birth, resulting in that mild case of cerebral palsy which has necessitated a handful of medical procedures and treatments and disrupted, to a minimal degree, my brain’s ability to command my thoughts and actions.
but i honestly believe the bulk of it is that i’ve spent too much time by myself… from the time i was to eight to now. i never really learned how to interact with others. i never learned how to get out of my head… because that was the only place i had to go in my childhood and adolescence, and whenever i try to venture out of it, i’m awkward and clumsy, and so like the hermit, i scurry back inside.
what i want to say… what i really, really want to say is we’re all a little bit crazy in our own ways. and dedicating a month to recognizing the crazy in hopes that the recognition could inspire others to care… designating a month to all the ways a person can be classified as crazy… how does that help a person cope? because i promise you, the last thing i need to be doing is looking at information about histrionic, narcissistic and dependent personality disorders.
the last thing i want ANYONE doing is finding ways to label someone. part of the reason my mind is what it is is because too many people labeled me too many things in my childhood, and so often. i can’t peel them off. they’re tattooes.
sometimes i think i’m a lot less messed up than i feel like i am (like when i am visiting with her or spending time with my friends). and others, i feel like i’m too messed up to be a part of this world (like today). but i also think everybody has days where they might feel like that, even if it’s just for a second. EVERYBODY.
i’m not trying to sound like i’m belittling the importance of this. i swear i’m not. there are most assuredly people in need of the help specialists can provide. it’s just that i’d rather focus on the flowers and the fun. because ultimately, that’s how you cope with this shit. thinking about it doesn’t do any good. distracting me with things like frog jumping and dancing like a chicken… laughter really is the best medicine, yall. that and the good times friends can provide… like when you’re celebrating may the fourth be with you and cinco de mayo. just be good to each other, dammit. i feel like if we were to do that, if we focused on the GOOD in people rather than in what makes them BAD, the world would be a much better place.