Dear diary
One of the things I have learned through my struggle with depression is how silly people can be about mental health. We can talk about having healthy teeth, healthy breasts, healthy feet, healthy skin, and people will go to their doctors if they observe symptoms that indicate illnesses of those parts of themselves. But mental health? Only crazy people have to check on their mental health. Because, you know, the majority of us are unquestionably healthy, and therefore don't need to even assess for symptoms. Because crazy is so obvious. And, you know, there's crazy and not crazy. I have friends who struggle to understand my mental illness. Some tell me I just need to buck up, or go let loose, or some similar brilliant strategy for "feeling better." Some say they don't understand, but they believe that it is a struggle for me, and they continue to try to understand. Some commisserate and compare medications with me. The most frustrating to me are the friends who "try" to understand, but in their heads think that I might be using this depression thing as a crutch to explain bad days. And heaven forbid I suggest they or another loved one might be a little depressed. Because, you know, they don't sit and cry for hours. And all those other symptoms that I have explained to them apparently apply to the crutch category. Are those friends really trying to understand? Or are they just wishing I would change the subject? Because, you know, mental health is an uncomfortable subject. So it must not exist. If only that worked for bills.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary
Teen FictionA teenage girl goes through some rough patches in her life and has no one to talk to so instead she writes… in her diary. Her diary is like an escape from the rest of the world. While she writes page after page she figures out that her diary is the...
