07/24/2011

This guy I work with gave me a long, extensive lecture on mental health on Friday.  This was because I made an offhand comment about an article in a magazine, something to the effect of, “I love me some mental illness!”  The article was about maintaining relationships with people who have mental illnesses, and I am genuinely interested in the subject—psychology has always been something of a pet interest of mine.  It was no more callous than anything else I say, really, so I felt the lecture was not justified.

The gist of this excessive lecture was that I could not possibly understand anything about mental illness.  He went on and on about friends of his with various psychological and psychiatric disorders, telling me about the profound effect that these disorders can have on one’s life.  It was interesting, because a lot of his information was incorrect and ignorant, but then, I couldn’t possibly know that.  Until I experience mental illness, he said, I shouldn’t be so glib about it.

I really wish people would just–pardon the expression–mind their own fucking business.  How foolish would he feel if he knew even the slightest thing about me?  Or about my friends and family, for that matter?  Lecturing me on the impact of mental illness as if I’ve never experienced that impact…it took all of my self-control not to laugh in his face…or punch him in it.

I’ll be as glib as I like, thanks.  I’ve had enough experience with mental illness to last me a lifetime. 

There’s my family, in which you can find depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety, alcoholism, drug abuse, suicide attempts, hypochondriasis, a plethora of personality disorders, gender confusion (although I don’t consider that a disorder…some people do) schizophrenia (unconfirmed, just suspected in my paternal grandmother), and republicanism (just kidding). 

Then there’s my friends, where you can find depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety, OCD, self-harm, 3 different eating disorders, drug abuse, alcoholism, personality disorders, and suicide attempts.  Luckily, no republicanism.

And, of course, there’s me. 

But I’ve never experience mental illness.  I couldn’t possibly understand how debilitating these conditions can be. 

It just pissed me off, so much so that I’m still seething about it two days later.  Who the fuck does he think he is? 

Ugh.