On Playing The Cards Your Dealt.

I once, strangely, thought mental illness was largely a myth. I am speaking of mood disorders mainly, I was aware that things like Schizophrenia and Parkinson’s were as real as the shining sun, but the bipolars and Post Traumatic Stress Disorders of the world seemed nothing more than an over hyped fairy-tale.
When I asked a relatively realist-pessimist friend of mine if he believed in depression (as he has his doubts on dieting, toxin theories and male anorexia) he replied that of course he does, that is science. While you can’t realistically believe in god all the way or all the time, you can believe in science.
Naturally it is now the cosmic joke that I find myself in the vicious clutches of GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder) and an increasing bout of diagnosed depression.
Normally I would cock my head and laugh from my gullet at those in similar circumstances, but I have felt it.
This isn’t any sort of bitching piece, merely a half-hearted attempt at an optimism speech. So I would say it is high-time I got to the point.
While this sort of thing can be stigmatized, for one reason or another, it is a disease. It has little or nothing to do with social status, culture, race or gender. A wealthy businessman without a worry in the world can find himself as depressed as a homeless man with nothing left to live for.
Too often in the clutches of depression or anxiety, I have been told one of the two; cheer up or calm down. If only things were so simple. They aren’t , not by a long shot. Your brain fast-tracks you there and you get stuck.
To all the nay-sayers who assume it is a matter of will power and nothing more, ask yourself this: would you want to be miserable or scared, day in day out, without motivation or ability to enjoy anything at all? My bet is you wouldn’t. The fact is, its beyond your control and as all the ads tell us, there is a difference between feeling blue and depression, or getting occasionally worried and an anxiety disorders.
Though, for myself, I have come to some sort of bitter conclusion. While my own brain dysfunction is upsetting, worse is the regimen of hopeless cures I attempt to throw on it. Sooner or later you realise you may be beyond help. You have to hope the mess will sop itself up, a very limp wristed approach, I know….but sometimes the fight is gone.
I liken the appropriate attitude in such circumstances to that of folks born with birth defects….they have little choice but to deal with what has fallen upon them, and they do so with upmost courage and style, so should we, the people, deal with our whacky brains.
There should be no stigma about it, though there is. It is the ultimate test of a friend, if they tell you to snap out of it (post diagnosis) tell them to go fuck themselves, but if they tell you they will be there for you, hang on and don’t let go.