You Gotta Go There To Come Back

Mar 24, 2008 - 19:36 PM PST

The following quotation has been [shamelessly adapted] to suit my expressive and creative needs in writing this post. To read the original, which is pretty good on its own without my manipulation, see the footnote.

"'I'm a writer. Please don't do anything to harm my brain.' The psychiatrist said, 'If you had a kidney disease, you wouldn't hesitate to take medication for it - why are you hesitating with this?' But, see, that only shows how ignorant he was about my family; a [Peeples] might very well not medicate a kidney disease, seeing that we're a family who regard any sickness as a sign of personal, ethical, moral failure."

The issue of illness looms large in my personal history (not to mention ancestral history too), and keeps right on looming into my future. It's there like a big black obelisk, simultaneously worshipped and feared for absolutely no good reason. Cancer, alcoholism, drug addiction, various genetic maladies - these are all universally recognized (and, to me, respectably and resolutely accepted) by anyone within a bloodline or two from me. What has been of particular fascination to me lately is mental illness.

Maybe it's inspired by Britney-Watch 2008. Maybe seeing someone else, someone prominent, in obvious pain and confusion, and seeing so many people collectively misunderstand it, is really scary to me. I'm sure there are plenty of honest, sympathetic, competent people out there who understand what's wrong with poor ol' Britney, and God-willing she will find those people. But somehow - and this cynicism, as well, is endemic to my family - I get the feeling that the vast majority of people watching "E! News Special: Britney In Crisis" are just shaking their heads and saying, "Oh, well, bless her heart, that girl is such a mess."

I think there is a slight shift in perspective on our own mental illnesses that makes me very different from the rest of my family. When I want to, I'm able to step back from myself and say, "this is not that big a deal." When I want to, I can mention to a close friend that "yeah, my therapist said something similar to that advice." I feel like that is evidence of having at least a fair amount of control on the demons of depression and anxiety (my mental illness ID badge), rather than the other way round.

On the other hand, I come by my cynicism honestly. No one in my family goes to a therapist without a lot of pretty forceful pushing. Even from parents to children, it's obviously not something they are proud of, or at least are willing to encourage their kids to "give it a try." So it's hardly any wonder that I really did - and if I'm totally honest, and who wouldn't be on a blog, I still do - have to work up quite a bit of nerve to go to the appointments, take the pills, and refill the prescriptions. There really is a sense of having failed at something.

I have to tell you, though, that having lived most of my life in the unmedicated, untreated alternative, I most definitely prefer this particular present. In no sense do I greet the morning sun with open arms and embrace a new day, or any other shit like that (there ain't a pill big enough, my friends). But what I do have is the ability - and the support - to actually take care of the illness. Don't let the name fool you; antidepressants do not fight off depression, or anything like that. What they do is clear the air enough for you to deal with your shit; the catch being that you have to want to deal with your shit.

So I still have plenty of things in my life that get to me: my job, my money, my relationships, my weight, my hair color...but I count on having that different perspective than the one I grew up with. It took me 27 years to get it, it's working really well for me, and if it means fighting with my mother every now and then, I'll take it. I can deal with my shit.


title taken from - "I'm Alright," Stereophonics