Taking time from artisanal captioning to write this out of ethics. But for those who care about Bell’s initiative to raise awareness for mental health, there’s countless ways you can engage, whether you’ve had any history of mental illness or are someone who cares about the well-being of another’s mental health. Oh right before I even attempt anything, let me clear up that I am not professionally certified to provide any mental health support, but if you think reading my historical pain will help you feel less alone, good. Regardless effectiveness I’m restraining the slang for topical sensitivity’s sake.
It’s been closer to 4.5 years since a very kind person determined I have severe depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder. I specify [have] and not [had] cause I totally still have it. It’s just the crazy pills sigh sorry—it’s just the anti-depressants at max dose, chill pills have kept my marbles contained. But it’s there, and I feel it manifest in all its subtle to not-so-subtle ways that makes me—and I know whoever knows, relates—go [$#!7, here we go again]. And whenever I privately think of the first two thirds of 2018, I panic a little. That’s how mentally bad 2018 was, forget the physical facts like the ceiling leaking directly above my pillow through the winter into summer or the amount of sweat lost and physical brain damage done cause the mental pain became practically telekinetic. 2018 was so personally bad that even 2020—universally bad—then 2021—which was “oh-so-you-think-2020-universally-bad”—couldn’t top my 2018 bad times.
That’s how bad a time mental illness is. The world could be on fire, but if you’re on fire, you’re gonna feel it more.
Now imagine 2020-1 without my drugs. All my life I reckoned with how to scrape strength as an Asian-[North]American in a society that put me on edge of where racism would emerge its fugly head out of next, and how much is in the past and really in my head. Then—y’know, the last two+ years which confirmed right away that all my worst fears about humanity were very much there and trigger-happy waiting for an excuse to hate groups of people they had always concluded privately they should hate. Without my drugs—My Meds—I’m almost definitely dead by now. Either I’d have gotten killed in combat with bigots outnumbering me, or I might have just done it myself cause all this hate is too much. I say this almost recklessly casually cause even in August 2018, a while off from the “so are you actually good or pure evil” pop quiz apocalypse of civilization, I had already declared to the kind person “I can’t live like this anymore”.
That’s the difference mental health makes. It’s the difference between feeling virtually hopeless even when times are “normal” [all the problems in the world still qualified as such] and feeling mentally equipped enough to telekinetically push through when times are blatantly cartoon-fucked.
Do I still wanna mess a [multitude of] racist[s] up whenever I learn of another anti-Asian attack? Racist-Face-Fucking Yeah, which is likely why I’d make a counterproductive community activist. Do I get existential about how way-too-many and I selectively feel fury on what connects more personally? I do, and I know that’s another reason why inter-minority coalition is needed more. But maybe it’s because oppressed groups have been conditioned to feel alone that they don’t come together, which only makes the anger of each group more internalized, which leads to lashing out at different groups, hence race wars, all orchestrated by the people up top who would love to wipe out those who are “different” or happily sit back and watch the different groups of “different” tear each other apart. White supremacy, everyone—and their parallel counterparts.
Right yeah, this is why I’m not real BellLetsTalk. Do I think Russia will really invade Ukraine? Regardless, if you’re stressed for example by that, then it’s certain someone else is stressed about that, and talking helps. I know I’m stressed about how we’ve reached the logical extreme of the current entitlement era, in that humanity—although more practically-advanced than ever—is hilariously unequipped mentally to band together enough to defeat deadly germs. All this cause too many decency-degenerates would rather profit off co-opting division, hate, misinformation, and all-around nihilism whether they’re too cowardly or not to admit it [they are], selling it as “freedom”. Freedom to kill in the name of yourself or whoever your political/media god is. Holy shit, okay, this publishing’s gonna need a disclaimer. Aight I’ve had my fix of mic dropping bad guys; What Am I Talking About Ultimately?
Look if you unfortunately know me at all for real, none of this is new….. Thing is I didn’t take the time last year—whatever my excuse was—to do something that would give me peace of mind on a national day dedicated to mental health awareness. I’m no spokesperson and even if I could be one, I don’t trust myself that you’ll feel any more hopeful after I’m done talking. The most I remember doing last year was text #BellLetsTalk to see what would happen but I’m with Fido so nothing happened.
But problems in my brain and yours if applicable are gonna be there tomorrow. Still, engaging today isn’t a copout in giving brief attention for the illusion of awareness. It matters—every outlet and event that brings awareness to [one of] the only group[s] of diseases deemed imaginary by those who can’t directly feel its effects. But I want any of you 400,000 readers give or take to understand that you don’t have just today to talk to someone or ask for help. Anyone who stops caring to listen after today can mistake drinking CLR for wine.
And yeah, asking for help is the worst part. No point dreading the notion, it really is the absolute worst part, it sucks ice cubes. It’s miserable. It’s every dark sequel on bad trip shrooms.
But that would mean asking for help got you through the worst part. Then it’s no longer a question whether it could get better. So reach out; assholes are outnumbered; someone who cares Will answer.
OPEN DOOM CRESCENDO 