Crazy Rant
So, in keeping with the season I thought I'd share some thoughts. As anyone reading this who actually knows me personally or, indeed, has read this journal in times past knows I am mentally ill. On the off chance you didn't know that here's the score. Between my mothers drinking problem, my scumbag piece of shit old man's pedophilia/inability to refrain from hitting or talking shit to and about anyone smaller and weaker than him when he was in a bad mood which was pretty much all the fucking time problem and what I am increasingly prone to suspect was a raging case of bipolarity on one side of the family and flat our chronic depression or post-war syndrome on the other (the old bastard served in the navy in WWII and did most of his time in the Pacific. Do the math.) I am a bit of a train wreck north of the neck. In point of fact I've been diagnosed with a number of mental illnesses that are covered by the Americans With Disabilities Act. I could probably, if I really wanted to flush my self respect right down the shitter apply for SSI and spend the next 30 years living on the government tit. Assuming I didn't eat my pistol before the end of the first year.
This time of year is especially bad for me. And I have to be honest. I haven't kept it together anywhere NEAR as well as I have in times past. Frankly, I've been a bit of a prick and I'm deeply sorry that my girls have had to put up with it. My baseline bipolar "valleys" get significantly deeper and suicide is much more on my mind. In point of fact I've given it serious-and I mean composing my final thoughts and picking out where I'd go to do it so the girls didn't get stuck with painting over the gooey mess that used to be their husbands brains- thought these past 6 weeks than I have in the entire previous YEAR. And I'm not alone. Last year 8.3 MILLION human being gave real serious thought to doing themselves in. Granted, it's a myth that the rates spike this time of year but it doesn't change matters any. This is a hard, often very lonely and painful time for a lot of people. And Gods help me, for all the hard work and endless love and support of my girls and my family I'm one of them.
So why am I taking this giant, steaming dump in your holiday punchbowl? Despite what you may think it isn't in the hopes I'll come home to find the guns hidden. It's because certain well intentioned people just don't get it.
Here's the deal. If you go to your employer and explain to them that you need special accommodation under the ADA due to mental illness you will be lighting a very short fucking fuse indeed on your career. Sure, they can't fire you for being sick. But they can't fire you for being gay either and it happens. If you're in a wheelchair or blind or missing a limb people treat you with a certain sympathy and accomodation and often respect for not letting the speed bump life put in your way stop you from being out in the world trying to be a fully functioning member of society. If you're mentally ill and people get wind of it they fucking SHUN YOU.
Here's the deal good readers. I am a lot of things. Most of them I'm very proud of. Ok, some I'm fucking mystified by. I'm a devoted and loving husband. I'm a passingly good writer. I'm a good, loyal friend and a bad fucking person to make an enemy of. I'm a cracker of jokes, a teller of stories and lots of people seem to find me charming and fun as hell to be around. I am a survivor of a pretty nightmarish past . I have been kicked in the nuts by life so many times and gotten back up I've lost count. I am a hard worker at whatever job I do and a great salesman. One of the best in fact. And I am so sick between the ears through no fault of my own that I know for an iron clad FACT that nobody close to me will be surprised if they get the call "We found his body. It looks self inflicted."
Now, I'm ok with the people I love knowing I'm ill. But that's my family and my friends. The last fucking thing I need my boss knowing is that he hired someone who carries a knife and frequently thinks of hurting himself. You tell the people you work for that you're ill and everything you do gets filtered through that. Every joke, every expression or gesture or offhand remark that would otherwise get blown off gets colored by the knowledge that you're sick. And it has fucked my ability to provide for my family at least as often as my inability to always know when the jokes I'm cracking are appropriate or not.
I live in fear every day people. I go to work day in day out asking myself "Is this the day it all blows up in my face? Do I get to go home for the umpteenth time and tell my wives and my in-laws and my clan that Mr. Provider is out looking for work AGAIN?" . It's hard as hell and stresses me out more than I sometimes let on. And I really don't need my employer knowing whats going on. I don't need to be told -and mind you I've heard all these before-
"well just get over it."
"So? Don't be sad."
"Just take something for it."
"I'm sorry but we can't have you here. There's too great a liability for the company."
So do me a favor. Don't go telling me to just spontaneously out myself ok? I've tried it and more times than not it blows up in my face and I'm out looking for work. AGAIN. Fuck. If you're reading this and you're family or clan or if somebody just reposted it and you happen to know someone who ISN"T me who is also mentally ill don't push for them to come out. There is a stigma to it that is at least as bad as having AIDS back in the 80's. People seriously think crazy is catching and they will fucking throw rocks at those they beilieve have it. I know. I've been there. The government regs are zero protection.
Just be there for the people in your life who are sick. Don't shun us. Don't see us first and foremost as a disease. We're human beings and all most of us want is get through life as functional, contributing members of society. Have our backs when we have our flare ups but don't pity us. We're not cripples. We don't fucking WANT your pity. Most of us are stronger than most of YOU will ever be because we're doing all the shit you do and we're doing it with an extra burden you should hit your knees and thank whatever God you worship you don't have direct experience with. And I'm sorry but working with us isn't the same as being one of us. I work with autistic kids and I'm damned good with them. Doesn't mean I see the world as they do.
Be our friends.
Be our family.
Be there for us when it hits the wall.
Judge us on who we are. Husbands, wives, friends, co-workers. Not on the fact that we're sick. If you had cancer would you want someone to see you as nothing more or less than a cancer patient? Didn't think so.
And when we stay "Step back, I need to handle this myself." Please. FUCKING RESPECT IT.
This time of year is especially bad for me. And I have to be honest. I haven't kept it together anywhere NEAR as well as I have in times past. Frankly, I've been a bit of a prick and I'm deeply sorry that my girls have had to put up with it. My baseline bipolar "valleys" get significantly deeper and suicide is much more on my mind. In point of fact I've given it serious-and I mean composing my final thoughts and picking out where I'd go to do it so the girls didn't get stuck with painting over the gooey mess that used to be their husbands brains- thought these past 6 weeks than I have in the entire previous YEAR. And I'm not alone. Last year 8.3 MILLION human being gave real serious thought to doing themselves in. Granted, it's a myth that the rates spike this time of year but it doesn't change matters any. This is a hard, often very lonely and painful time for a lot of people. And Gods help me, for all the hard work and endless love and support of my girls and my family I'm one of them.
So why am I taking this giant, steaming dump in your holiday punchbowl? Despite what you may think it isn't in the hopes I'll come home to find the guns hidden. It's because certain well intentioned people just don't get it.
Here's the deal. If you go to your employer and explain to them that you need special accommodation under the ADA due to mental illness you will be lighting a very short fucking fuse indeed on your career. Sure, they can't fire you for being sick. But they can't fire you for being gay either and it happens. If you're in a wheelchair or blind or missing a limb people treat you with a certain sympathy and accomodation and often respect for not letting the speed bump life put in your way stop you from being out in the world trying to be a fully functioning member of society. If you're mentally ill and people get wind of it they fucking SHUN YOU.
Here's the deal good readers. I am a lot of things. Most of them I'm very proud of. Ok, some I'm fucking mystified by. I'm a devoted and loving husband. I'm a passingly good writer. I'm a good, loyal friend and a bad fucking person to make an enemy of. I'm a cracker of jokes, a teller of stories and lots of people seem to find me charming and fun as hell to be around. I am a survivor of a pretty nightmarish past . I have been kicked in the nuts by life so many times and gotten back up I've lost count. I am a hard worker at whatever job I do and a great salesman. One of the best in fact. And I am so sick between the ears through no fault of my own that I know for an iron clad FACT that nobody close to me will be surprised if they get the call "We found his body. It looks self inflicted."
Now, I'm ok with the people I love knowing I'm ill. But that's my family and my friends. The last fucking thing I need my boss knowing is that he hired someone who carries a knife and frequently thinks of hurting himself. You tell the people you work for that you're ill and everything you do gets filtered through that. Every joke, every expression or gesture or offhand remark that would otherwise get blown off gets colored by the knowledge that you're sick. And it has fucked my ability to provide for my family at least as often as my inability to always know when the jokes I'm cracking are appropriate or not.
I live in fear every day people. I go to work day in day out asking myself "Is this the day it all blows up in my face? Do I get to go home for the umpteenth time and tell my wives and my in-laws and my clan that Mr. Provider is out looking for work AGAIN?" . It's hard as hell and stresses me out more than I sometimes let on. And I really don't need my employer knowing whats going on. I don't need to be told -and mind you I've heard all these before-
"well just get over it."
"So? Don't be sad."
"Just take something for it."
"I'm sorry but we can't have you here. There's too great a liability for the company."
So do me a favor. Don't go telling me to just spontaneously out myself ok? I've tried it and more times than not it blows up in my face and I'm out looking for work. AGAIN. Fuck. If you're reading this and you're family or clan or if somebody just reposted it and you happen to know someone who ISN"T me who is also mentally ill don't push for them to come out. There is a stigma to it that is at least as bad as having AIDS back in the 80's. People seriously think crazy is catching and they will fucking throw rocks at those they beilieve have it. I know. I've been there. The government regs are zero protection.
Just be there for the people in your life who are sick. Don't shun us. Don't see us first and foremost as a disease. We're human beings and all most of us want is get through life as functional, contributing members of society. Have our backs when we have our flare ups but don't pity us. We're not cripples. We don't fucking WANT your pity. Most of us are stronger than most of YOU will ever be because we're doing all the shit you do and we're doing it with an extra burden you should hit your knees and thank whatever God you worship you don't have direct experience with. And I'm sorry but working with us isn't the same as being one of us. I work with autistic kids and I'm damned good with them. Doesn't mean I see the world as they do.
Be our friends.
Be our family.
Be there for us when it hits the wall.
Judge us on who we are. Husbands, wives, friends, co-workers. Not on the fact that we're sick. If you had cancer would you want someone to see you as nothing more or less than a cancer patient? Didn't think so.
And when we stay "Step back, I need to handle this myself." Please. FUCKING RESPECT IT.