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Self inflicted isolation.

Tom dinning

Registrant*
Good morning everyone.
Its the end of Mental Health Week here in Australia.
Its been a great week for the wackos, loonies, crazies, nut cases and anyone two planks short of a picket fence.
There have been parties, parodies, fund raising, awareness campaigns, call-ins, send-out and live-ins.
In fact, its been a frenzy of activity, much like a dress-up party at a psychiatric ward. Why, the Cookoo's Nest has nothing on this place.
People have been able to have a joke at the expense of the mentally unhealthy without fear of recrimination or retribution. How nice for them. Every person claiming to be in some way recognisable has declared their love for mental health. A few of them even looked up an appropriate diagnosis in DSM 4 (one that matched their star sign no less) and declared themselves one of us.

Or should I say one of them.

Now the week is over, there is a disquieting lull in the conversation. I was expecting the world to be different this morning. But alas, I fear not. I'm still the same old crazy fart who rants and raves and uses obscenities to punctuate his verbosity. I still pop the same old pills and take a wide birth around the local bottle shop. I still figure that being asleep is better than being conscious and I can't figure out most of the world beyond a subliminal and non-emotional level. Everyone wants to know how my bad ticker is but lets not mention the Brain. ****, no. We don't talk about mental illness on a regular, day to day, band-ade in the second drawer on the right, have you taken your anti-biotics sort of way.

We hedge. I've never heard anyone tell a cancer or heart patient to "get over it". I don't here people whispering in the corners about people who have broken limbs or a bunion. Everyone want to visit you on your sick bed but doesn't want to know you're at home when depression grabs you by the balls and swings you in a loop.
Try telling them about it.

"I have depression."
"Oh, I have an appointment elsewhere".

"I'm a psychopath."
"****! I'm out of here"

"I have an addiction".
"What? Sex?. That must be fun?"

"My child has autism"
"Can't you control him?"

"My doctor told me I have Genito-Pelvic Pain/Penetration Disorder"
"Don't you like sex?"

"I'm obsessive compulsive"
"Aren't we all?"

And the best of all: "He's a bit weird, you know. It runs in the family."
So does hair colour, nose shape and left/right handedness but who's hiding that?"

I was once told that one of the best ways of dealing with psychosis or mental illness or whatever you want to call it is to talk to someone about it. Trouble is, the ones who listen are doctors and other loonies like myself. And Christine, of course, who, by the way, is obsessive compulsive so I guess she doesn't count as a full picket fence.

So, now the week is over, its back to talking to the doctor and the therapy group and the councillor and when someone calls me and asks me out for lunch I will continue to tell them I have a broken leg or dysentery or ebola and can't make it today and return to my usual position of sitting in a quiet corner of a dark room talking to myself or writing on OPF.

As my contribution to mental health week I declare myself Normal. And its killing me.

Can someone come and mow my lawn?


_DSC0050 by thedingo0099, on Flickr​
 

Asher Kelman

OPF Owner/Editor-in-Chief
...........
As my contribution to mental health week I declare myself Normal. And its killing me.

Can someone come and mow my lawn?


_DSC0050 by thedingo0099, on Flickr​



It's funny you ask about mowing the lawn. I've been thinking of replacing it with no water requiring landscape so as to save on the labor and water bill.

Your picture upset me. Not you mood - I'm actually relied that you appear intact. what i do not like is the missing part of the sole of one shoe and your head covering some of the picture frame. That's how obsessive i can be. i like to see either the whole of a great thing or else only a select sub-part. There's too much of you to now see you entirely, head to toe.

The nice thing about your malady is that it does allow you, like the breast-stroke swimmer, to come up for air after each time you're submerged and are running on stored oxygen.

I have other friends who do not pop up so easily. One fellow got a throat cancer that finished him after months of repeated surgeries. Another friend is in a nursing home with full time care and he almost never even recognizes his wife, never mind whether or not she is in a good mood today. One more fellow has pancreatic cancer and then there's the talented artist and physician friend of mine who has Parkinsonism so severe that he has dropped out of all social life.

So cyclothymic illness, while debilitating does have up times when one can be very productive and happy as a lark.

So there are blessings to be had still, after all and that's what you have to rely on!

Asher
 

Tom dinning

Registrant*
Now that's an optimistic point of view, Asher. Very 'doctor' of you. I'm feeling better already.
Did you notice I didn't have any socks on? Crazies don't wear socks. In fact the really weird ones don't wear shoes when they go shopping. There are signs at the entry to shopping malls 'No shoes, no entry'.
I can also see how life controlling your obsessions are. I'll tell Christine. I'm sure she'll be reassured by your empathy.
Yeah, you're so right. Us crazies shouldn't really complain. After all, we look normal enough and there are people out there with real illnesses like cancer and dementia. What's an occasional mood swing when it comes down to something real serious. After all, as you say, tomorrow I'll feel great.
And if tomorrow never comes or your prediction doesn't pan out who will give a ****. Everyone left behind will feel the pain of trying to understand someone so selfish.

All you have said is the truth. Unfortunately it's not the truth for people with a mental illness. Your truth is exactly what people with mental illness are constantly battling. An unrealistic comparison with the so called 'real' illnesses and an attitude that, in the end 'you'll be alright, Jack'.
When you get a chance, have a browse through DMV and see if you can find something in there that would suit you. Or maybe you can visit your local school and teach some children with mental disorders. They'll be sitting right next to your grand children, trying desperately to make sense of the world while the other kids in the class keep their distance and the teacher sees the kid as a 'problem'. There's also the Men's Shed where a whole range of blokes escape the real world and find peace within themselves - or not. And while you're at it, have a look down the suicide list to see if there is anyone you know. Maybe one or two of them had your beloved cyclothymic malady. Some might also have been looking for a longer rope.
Don't patronize, my friend. It doesn't suit the occasion
 

Asher Kelman

OPF Owner/Editor-in-Chief
Now that's an optimistic point of view, Asher. Very 'doctor' of you. I'm feeling better already.
Did you notice I didn't have any socks on? Crazies don't wear socks. In fact the really weird ones don't wear shoes when they go shopping. There are signs at the entry to shopping malls 'No shoes, no entry'.
I can also see how life controlling your obsessions are. I'll tell Christine. I'm sure she'll be reassured by your empathy.
Yeah, you're so right. Us crazies shouldn't really complain. After all, we look normal enough and there are people out there with real illnesses like cancer and dementia. What's an occasional mood swing when it comes down to something real serious. After all, as you say, tomorrow I'll feel great.
And if tomorrow never comes or your prediction doesn't pan out who will give a ****. Everyone left behind will feel the pain of trying to understand someone so selfish.

All you have said is the truth. Unfortunately it's not the truth for people with a mental illness. Your truth is exactly what people with mental illness are constantly battling. An unrealistic comparison with the so called 'real' illnesses and an attitude that, in the end 'you'll be alright, Jack'.
When you get a chance, have a browse through DMV and see if you can find something in there that would suit you. Or maybe you can visit your local school and teach some children with mental disorders. They'll be sitting right next to your grand children, trying desperately to make sense of the world while the other kids in the class keep their distance and the teacher sees the kid as a 'problem'. There's also the Men's Shed where a whole range of blokes escape the real world and find peace within themselves - or not. And while you're at it, have a look down the suicide list to see if there is anyone you know. Maybe one or two of them had your beloved cyclothymic malady. Some might also have been looking for a longer rope.
Don't patronize, my friend. It doesn't suit the occasion

I don't think you understand Tom. I did not respond as a doctor. Rather I row the same boat as yours. Socks? I wear them over my eyes to sleep!

Asher
 
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