So this morning I’m sitting here sweetly typing out my firstever, brand spanking new blog post on something sentimental and dear to me that happened this morning and then, BAM! The picture above pops up in my news feed. I type into my friends comment section that I didn’t agree with the crazy people part. Lo and behold immediately someone comments, and I quote:
“Hummmmm, Really Misty? You think sane people kill people? That is a very scary thought.”
Merriam-Webster defines the word “crazy” as: full of cracksor flaws; mad or insane.
Just to be fair they also define the word “people” as: humans making up a group or assembly or linked by a common interest
I suppose, even though I wasn’t going to make my first post about ME, I should tell you I am of the crazy people. Yes. That’s right. I’m diagnosed Bipolar 2 with severe anxiety and panic attacks. I am definitely full of cracks and flaws. I get mad and some people have even accused me of being insane. (Insanely awesome) However I hardly find that having the aforementioned diagnoses interesting. OK. I lie. Psychology and mental illness is interesting. I have made it my life’s mission since being diagnosed to stop the stigma that surrounds me and 1 in 5 Americans. This photo set off my stigma radar big time.
According to NAMI, two-thirds of those with a diagnosable mental illness will NOT seek treatment due to stigma. That’s pretty damn sad don’t you think? (Fuck you whoever came up with this picture/meme) It’s this kind of stuff that totally pisses me off.
(Right now my roommate is staring over my shoulder as I type this accusing me of stirring the shit pot. Really? Well get me a bigger pot dude. I’m gonna stir till my arms fall off.)
Did you know that suicide is the third leading cause of death in adolescents and teenagers? Did you know that one of the top causes is fear of ridicule for seeking help for possible mental problems. Eight out of ten teens try to seek help immediately before committing suicide. People aged 65 and older are at the most risk for suicide attempts in the adult community. Probably because of the STIGMA of seeking help for what was deemed in their time as being weak. I call bullshit. We aren’t weak.
So if I’m an advocate for stopping the stigma against mental illness then why am I offended by the term “crazy”? I’m not. I call myself crazy to my psychiatrist. She says there is no such thing as the word crazy, but then again Merriam-Webster has proved her wrong. So much for that $125 I spend each month for her advice. No really though. I’m not offended by this photo and it’s wording so much for myself as I am for those that aren’t accepting of their mental illness. I advocate for those that are scared. Hiding in the wings, struggling with the fear of what is wrong with them. Nothing is wrong with them. They just haven’t been given the go ahead to accept themselves, much less a label. A label given to them by ignorant people.
Ok, Ok. So maybe some, alright, a lot of people aren’t going to agree with me, but not everyone with mental illness hides in a tower overlooking hundreds of people with a rifle and opens fire. Sure, did ole boy up there have a mental illness? Probably. I bet I could look him up and read all kinds of articles on what was wrong with him. Does that picture say that though? No. It groups us all together. Which I totally disagree with.
So, without further ado, here is my very own first blog post and thank God someone decided to post that this morning and then someone else decided to leave their own ignorant remark without backing it up with theory or thought. I thank you woman I don’t know. Thank you for giving me a reason to hold my hands on my hips and stomp my feet and stir the shit pot for one more day.