Friday, June 29, 2012

We Don't Talk About It. We Just Don't.

We all know it's OK to talk about mental illness. We're (most of us) trying to be culturally sensitive when it comes to depression, bi-polar disorder, schizophrenia, and all of the lesser-known mental and emotional disorders. But here's the thing.  I'm bloody tired of people telling me, with a soulful look in their eye, that they have a mental illness. Yeah, that's right. I'm an asshole like that, and I don't want to hear it.

Here's the other thing you should know about me. I have chronic depression. Judging from friends' and family members' experiences, it's not a serious form of depression. (You should probably also know that two of my family members succumbed to their mental illnesses and committed suicide during my adult life, so I know the difference between moderate and severe depression.) So I don't have a lot of patience for people who go around wearing their mental illnesses (or any illness) like an accessory. It doesn't make you cool or soulful or artistic. To be frank, it just fucking sucks. It sucks more than language can express. Because yeah, I've had bouts of depression severe enough for me to be able to tell you that with absolute conviction.

Here's the other thing. The kind of uncomfortable thing. Against the advice of two doctors and one psychologist, I don't take medication for my depression. I don't want to put up with the side effects and, despite the crushing [sadness doesn't describe it. Screw you, English language] I feel when I'm depressed, some of my bouts of depression have resulting in the most creatively fertile periods of my life. I wrote large portions of my book during and following the prolonged depression that was the result of a suicide in the family. I don't want to toss around stupid and inept phrases like "worth it," but I have decided that there is too much to be potentially lost in seeking relief through Big Pharma.

But since I'm not medicating, I do have to have some pretty serious strategies in place for when I feel a bout of depression coming on. Exercise is big, and not drinking too much, and making a point of going out and doing things and seeing people (especially when all I want to do is spend the day in bed) are so very, very important. Because without the people that I love, and who love me, I really don't know how I'd manage.  My family's support is, of course, utterly, utterly essential. Trent, I know it sucks being married to someone who just wants to sleep and cry. Thank you. My mom is amazing. My Toni ("best friend" is a weak descriptor for you) does not let me get away with bullshit. You are my lifeboat, you three. I love you.

But I also want to say how much my tribe, my community means to me. A couple of years ago, I sort of found my way into the Halifax acting community.  I have made a few absolutely irreplaceable friends. One of them gave me a job last time I was feeling completely adrift, and I have no idea how to let her know how much that changed my world for the better.  Last fall, a bunch of us got together and made a movie, and I am so unbelievably proud of us. This summer, several of them have been helping me edit and workshop a screenplay I wrote during what I like to call The Long Crazy.  One of them lives and works in Vancouver, but as far as I'm concerned, he should be here. I would never have been able to call myself a filmmaker before I met him.

Anyway, you guys, this is for you. I don't know if you read this or not, and by and large, I haven't really been able to tell you what's going on with me, but I need to say thank you. So much thank you. So much love.