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Feb. 4th, 2016 01:54 pmThis past Summer, I was at a workshop event with a friend when one of the attendees made a joke about how a technique being demonstrated triggered his OCD. The facilitator carefully suggested that that kind of joke might be insensitive to people who are, in fact, obsessive-compulsive. Thinking about it later, I wondered whether I should think consciously about how I and others use terms related to mental illness. Though I appreciated the consideration shown at that semi-public event, it seemed like such a small thing in the context of wider life. Was it worth making a change, or mentioning it to others?
This past January, I was lying in my bed here in Syracuse, trying to find energy and motivation to brush my teeth, or shower, or just get dressed. I'd spent most of the prior month in Evanston, failing to muster the will to do the work I was supposed to doing for school. Attempts to do so led to me doing everything else imaginable until finally there was no other way to avoid it than just going to bed. In Syracuse, there were fewer options for distraction; just me in my apartment. I was sleeping 15 hours a day, crawling out of bed to scoop ice cream out of a carton with the dirty spoons I couldn't manage to wash. I had time, but lacked the energy, the mental coordination, to contextualize what I was experiencing.
These past few days, I thought of that workshop and did a little of that contextualization. It's not just about directly trivializing people, though that's significant too. It also creates a conceptual framework in which serious discussion is difficult. A level of dysfunction that makes getting out of bed in the morning a major accomplishment is often a cliche about a rough day at work. After a day of strenuous exertion, sore muscles and joints wouldn't have led me to joke about how I must have broken bones. But jokes about being mentally incapable of dealing with life flow much more freely. It puts the listener in a difficult position too; how do you respond seriously to expressions that are so rarely serious? It combines with--or perhaps is part of--the stigma that makes mental illness difficult and complicated to talk about. Physical disabilities naturally elicit sympathy and assistance. Mental disability is more complicated. It's not clear just what mental illness and injury really are. In speaking about them, I feel like I put a listener in an awkward position, without an easy way to respond. These are things I will think about, and possibly incorporate into my world view. I am grateful, as always, for continuing opportunities for transformative experience.
---
I am moving back to the Midwest. I have taken a leave of absence from the university. The truck is rented, I am half packed, and Danae is making room for me at her condo. I'm doing this for many reasons and I have a great deal to process. The most important reason, though, is preservation of my health. My worsening mental health threatened to spill onto my physical health. I've never self-injured by cutting. When I was in horrible levels of stress at the end of my relationship with my ex, it was hitting my head against handy fixed objects. It's a bad situation to stay in, and I might be there again if I stay. I've seen it coming. I'm going to go to where I have an in-person support network and start putting my brain together. Hopefully find therapy, if that's possible without health insurance. I have a lot to figure out. In the meantime, things have been much better for me since I put in my leave request last week and haven't been dealing with the school-related stressors.
I'm sorry to those who invested so deeply and personally in my success here. Maybe I'm not obligated to provide an explanation, but I certainly feel like I am. This afternoon though, I'm going to go walk Lily the black lab again. When I come into the house, her excitement is boundless. She runs in frantic circles, barking, stopping to jump straight up in the air, barrel into my chest and knock me over, or run frenetically to the front door and back. Me arriving at the house to take her for a walk is the greatest, most wonderful thing thing that could ever exist. If I can make another living being that happy, I must be doing something right.
This past January, I was lying in my bed here in Syracuse, trying to find energy and motivation to brush my teeth, or shower, or just get dressed. I'd spent most of the prior month in Evanston, failing to muster the will to do the work I was supposed to doing for school. Attempts to do so led to me doing everything else imaginable until finally there was no other way to avoid it than just going to bed. In Syracuse, there were fewer options for distraction; just me in my apartment. I was sleeping 15 hours a day, crawling out of bed to scoop ice cream out of a carton with the dirty spoons I couldn't manage to wash. I had time, but lacked the energy, the mental coordination, to contextualize what I was experiencing.
These past few days, I thought of that workshop and did a little of that contextualization. It's not just about directly trivializing people, though that's significant too. It also creates a conceptual framework in which serious discussion is difficult. A level of dysfunction that makes getting out of bed in the morning a major accomplishment is often a cliche about a rough day at work. After a day of strenuous exertion, sore muscles and joints wouldn't have led me to joke about how I must have broken bones. But jokes about being mentally incapable of dealing with life flow much more freely. It puts the listener in a difficult position too; how do you respond seriously to expressions that are so rarely serious? It combines with--or perhaps is part of--the stigma that makes mental illness difficult and complicated to talk about. Physical disabilities naturally elicit sympathy and assistance. Mental disability is more complicated. It's not clear just what mental illness and injury really are. In speaking about them, I feel like I put a listener in an awkward position, without an easy way to respond. These are things I will think about, and possibly incorporate into my world view. I am grateful, as always, for continuing opportunities for transformative experience.
---
I am moving back to the Midwest. I have taken a leave of absence from the university. The truck is rented, I am half packed, and Danae is making room for me at her condo. I'm doing this for many reasons and I have a great deal to process. The most important reason, though, is preservation of my health. My worsening mental health threatened to spill onto my physical health. I've never self-injured by cutting. When I was in horrible levels of stress at the end of my relationship with my ex, it was hitting my head against handy fixed objects. It's a bad situation to stay in, and I might be there again if I stay. I've seen it coming. I'm going to go to where I have an in-person support network and start putting my brain together. Hopefully find therapy, if that's possible without health insurance. I have a lot to figure out. In the meantime, things have been much better for me since I put in my leave request last week and haven't been dealing with the school-related stressors.
I'm sorry to those who invested so deeply and personally in my success here. Maybe I'm not obligated to provide an explanation, but I certainly feel like I am. This afternoon though, I'm going to go walk Lily the black lab again. When I come into the house, her excitement is boundless. She runs in frantic circles, barking, stopping to jump straight up in the air, barrel into my chest and knock me over, or run frenetically to the front door and back. Me arriving at the house to take her for a walk is the greatest, most wonderful thing thing that could ever exist. If I can make another living being that happy, I must be doing something right.
