Life tries to break you. And often it succeeds. But it’s the relationships we make, that allow us to pick up those shattered pieces and put them back together again.
Had the person I was been deleted and written over by this callous, often angry man, who hid in his house drinking too much when not wearing a uniform and being an asshole to the world at large?
Nobody will ever be able to understand the specific stories you tell like you can, not even me, because none of us has seen it through your eyes, but those of us who’ve felt the same fear, the same moral injuries, or the same sudden losses and threats to our own mortality like you have don’t need to.
The reason there’s so much stigma surrounding most mental health issues is that people who’ve never dealt with it themselves cannot understand it like they could a heart attack, or the loss of a limb, even though they may never have personally experienced those, either.
There is a false assumption that someone suffering this, or again any mental health issue, will show it on their face like a rash (that spells “nutbar” across their forehead, maybe?) or in their general, casually observed behaviour.
We carry our own stigmas with us and apply them even as we feel their sting and reel away from it. We are our own, sharpest, pointy sticks of doom.
In Canada, yesterday was #BellLetsTalk day, an event one of our larger telecommunications companies began some years ago to advance the awareness of mental health issues and reduce the stigmas surrounding them. It’s actually rather brilliantly done, too, considering how it uses various social media platforms to offer a distinct reward for those who do … Continue reading We Need to Talk About Mental Health
After my mother had passed, and already struggling with my injury worse than I ever had before, I remember sitting right here, at this very desk, and, wracked with big, heaving, sobs while the sun still shone outside my window, Googling “if I kill myself will I still go to heaven?”
The onus is ours to be prudent consumers, to advocate for ourselves as much as we can without losing sight of the contribution of others we trust, and to be our very own educated healthcare professionals.
Can I be cured? There’s a question and a half, and one without an easy answer. I recall once telling my doctor that I was sure this would never go away, that I was never going to not have PTSD, and the look she gave me (she always has trouble keeping a professionally straight face with me) was one of shock with an equal measure of wor