Loading ...My husband and I went to the dog park today where we sat on a bench watching our dog wrestle around with yellow lab mix. The owner of said yellow […]
Original post: A Memorable Sort of Psychosis
My husband and I went to the dog park today where we sat on a bench watching our dog wrestle around with yellow lab mix. The owner of said yellow […]
Original post: A Memorable Sort of Psychosis
I’ve ran into my therapist once in public, at a pot luck, he thought it was awkward, but it didn’t really bother me. Most of the people knew what he did, and while they didn’t knew that I was bipolar, it wasn’t that they didn’t know me, it just had never come up before. They thought I was some normal guy, (okay, not completely normal: I raise chickens in my backyard, but it was a pot luck of other people that do that too.) So to explain to people that I’m actually a few pills away from being in an asylum, but as long as I take my pills I’m a regular old middle class American, I think actually helps people realize that treatment actually works, that the crazy people you see living on the street are just one good prescription and a therapist away from being a productive member of society, and that people like my cousin, (who killed himself on Monday,) could have gone out and gotten treatment and been moderately happy, instead of living with their mother in a double-wide until they were 35… (Seriously, I think the guy did the right thing under the circumstances, although I’m not going to tell his mother that at the funeral, cause she was the one that was trying to convince him that he didn’t need treatment.)
My point is that if you ran into your mechanic in public, they wouldn’t act like it was a big secret that you’d ever had car trouble, in fact you’d probably mention the weird noise it was making this week. I doubt that your dentist would pretend to not know who you were, even if you do drink too much pop and don’t floss. And I invited my real estate agent to a party at my house, and I introduced her to people as, (shame of shame,) my “real estate agent.” You have a problem in your life, you seek out a professional, we do it for every other type of problem, so what is the big deal about mental illnesses that we pretend that they don’t exist and that people don’t need treatment for them?
But I’m crazy, so what do I know…