For one, I feel like I have a lot going for me. I have a few friends that suffer from mental illness and anxiety and whatnot, and when I think about helping them, the voice in my own head goes: "you are the worst possible help." And you know, I think that voice is right. Because I have absolutely zero idea what they could be going through right then. I don't know what it's like to not be able to eventually just pick yourself up and be alright. I don't know what it's like to have your worst enemy be your own brain. I don't know what it's like to not belong. At least, not anymore.
Since I discovered my career, cooking as a way to make money, all of the bad feelings and thoughts and voices in my head just stopped. I'm sure I had my own demons and darkness, but not moreso than any other American woman might. Thing is, I've found my purpose, my reason for being, and I was fortunate enough to find that at the fresh age of 21, and haven't felt lost since.
I've felt things like anger, sure, and disdain, even the occasional bout of malaise. But I cannot recall the last time I've felt truly lost or hopeless. I can't remember when I felt so alone, so depressed. The only times I want to kill myself is when I'm bored. Not seriously, mind you; I just get so bored sometimes on my days off that I think to myself "I could just stab myself through the eye and stop with this mind-numbing boredom and
|I also make cookies when I'm bored. It's a better|
alternative to suicide.
But the long and short of it is that I feel very fortunate to have everything I want/need right now. I'm a woman living on her own, paying her bills, with a career. I'm biologically(75%) more white than anything, but I look like a minority, which is even more of a blessing when combined with my success. I mean, I really can't ask for much right now. I have a loving, fulfilling, happy relationship with my boyfriend, too, which is a big plus. It feels truly great to be with someone who has their own thing. I mean, he's got a career, too, and has his own car and friends and apartment and life. It's fucking fantastic to be with a person who has their own shit together.
Anyhow, the point of this whole post is that I choose actively to look at the positive things in my life versus the negative. Because of this choice, I am unable to truly empathize with my friends who suffer from depression, as their choice to be happy is nonexistent. From what I've observed, it's as if someone has taken away their will to be happy. There's some evil cloud above them, taking away their choices, their ability to look up and see that the world is a beautiful place. If I could describe it as having some kind of "beer goggle laser surgery" all the time, I would, but it's only beer goggles if everything you see is awesome. Everything sucks for the people that suffer, and it's not even about what's around them, but what's within.
So this holiday season, I ask my readers to be aware of mental illness. I'm only asking you to be aware because it's nothing you can fix for anyone. Prescribed medication helps, certainly, but the people that take it dislike it, so I've heard. An ex-boyfriend of mine took some kind of anti-depressant for a time and I loved it; he was not only bearable to be around, but actually kind of nice. Unfortunately, my ex hated the way the medication made him feel and the few side effects it had, and stopped taking it. I came to a startling realization that week: prescribed medication like that isn't necessarily for the benefit people taking it, it's for the benefit of the people around the person taking it; and that's kind of sick, in an odd way.
Some medications aren't meant to help you, but to sedate you enough so that you're less awful to those around you.
|Seriously, I'm still doing MySpace selfies. That's how|
happy and blissfully unaware I am.
But be aware of mental illness this season. Don't be a dick and say mean, ignorant things. Be grateful for that which you have. Do good in the world.
Happy holidays from Wanna B Gourmande.