Mental Health commercials
Damn mental health commercial is making me crazy! I've seen two so far and both times it upset me.
They have a scenario at work where two people are talking about someone else. One, it's "so and so has anxiety" and the other is depression. Three or four times they glitch repeat a scene where one tells the other the gossip, and the other says something flippant in the normal way. Then in the final scene, they say something touching and caring. "that can be tough, I'll give him a call/look in on her" is the answer and I burst into tears and fury.
They never will. They don't want to care, it's too much work. They might have to actually lift a finger to help someone who's crazy!
Here's what I think people think about crazy. I think they consider us lost causes. I include myself here because the stuff they're addressing in the commercials is me. Depression, anxiety, and I'm sure they'll address adhd, and so on. Yeah, so I use my doctor free status to bolster myself "I'm not crazy, my last shrink said so and I've been out of that system for thirty years." Even so, I know I'm considered a mental case. Have been since age 8 and nobody's ever revised it except to lable me an artist, which is just a nice way to say "yeah, you're nuts."
Nutty people are worthless, you see. They're extra work, unlikely ever to thrive or succeed, and often not even manage on their own, and they are depressing and scary. I think people don't expect "crazies" to ever amount to anything so they're not worth investing emotion, time, labour or money, except to get their bodies off the sidewalk where they litter the city looking miserable and poor.
Who would know if any of them had insight that solves problems? Who would know if one of them had the capacity to love an unloveable? Who would know if one of them had creative beauty in him?
So, well, these commercials are nice but I have no faith in people that way. You can slam charity and compassion messages in their face 24/7 and they'll still pass the buck to some less busy person out there somewhere. Not that there is one, but they'll pretend it and the few people actually working with those less socially endowed will continue so overworked they can't do the job right.
Imagine if they put their money into hiring counsellors instead of commercials and actually provided real services vs streamlining the medication deliver process which is all they're going to do ultimately? No really, you don't think they really expect people to reach out and solve some of the problems of the mentally ill by actually giving a fuck about them, do you? No, the idea is going to be to recruit more community members to the cause of drugging more people for yet more petty reasons!!
Laughing at a funny movie and the people around you noticed? You have giggle outburst disorder. Crying because you're lonely? Well, that's depression and if you don't take antidepressants for it then you're not seeking help. Antidepressants is such an outrageous term for these things. They work by depressing the emotional system. It feels like being at the final stage of depression where you can't feel anymore and just don't give a damn, and then to ensure you don't have the energy for suicide, it also makes you lethargic and stupid.
What I always thought they wanted from me, to let me participate in the world, with a job, friends, etcc., is to turn myself into a Down's Syndrome baby (like they thought I was at birth). Utterly stupid, slow enough to outrace at anything, eager to please others, and unable to complain or wantanything else except whatever they toss at me that nobody else wants. Eat what is handed to me, without caring if it's good for me. Die when the whole thing crumbles to disease at age 60. Only I won't die. I can't die. I'm here for a very special punishment I don't even understand and I don't get to die till I'm over a century old. I can get sick enough to be worse than dead, but I can't actually check out early. I don't know who set this punishment, or why, or what it's good for, but I know that's my fate, the experience I'm here for.
Days like this I wish I had more industry to keep my brain busy. It's been all morning I can't get off this topic in my head. I've got a knitting project I just restarted, and a last Lovely Box to paint, since nobody wants them, I'm going to stop. I'll find other things to print and paint but at some point I'm just going to feel bad wasting material. Blah. shitty day. Time to smoke enough THC to drug me like those antidepressants are supposed to do.
They have a scenario at work where two people are talking about someone else. One, it's "so and so has anxiety" and the other is depression. Three or four times they glitch repeat a scene where one tells the other the gossip, and the other says something flippant in the normal way. Then in the final scene, they say something touching and caring. "that can be tough, I'll give him a call/look in on her" is the answer and I burst into tears and fury.
They never will. They don't want to care, it's too much work. They might have to actually lift a finger to help someone who's crazy!
Here's what I think people think about crazy. I think they consider us lost causes. I include myself here because the stuff they're addressing in the commercials is me. Depression, anxiety, and I'm sure they'll address adhd, and so on. Yeah, so I use my doctor free status to bolster myself "I'm not crazy, my last shrink said so and I've been out of that system for thirty years." Even so, I know I'm considered a mental case. Have been since age 8 and nobody's ever revised it except to lable me an artist, which is just a nice way to say "yeah, you're nuts."
Nutty people are worthless, you see. They're extra work, unlikely ever to thrive or succeed, and often not even manage on their own, and they are depressing and scary. I think people don't expect "crazies" to ever amount to anything so they're not worth investing emotion, time, labour or money, except to get their bodies off the sidewalk where they litter the city looking miserable and poor.
Who would know if any of them had insight that solves problems? Who would know if one of them had the capacity to love an unloveable? Who would know if one of them had creative beauty in him?
So, well, these commercials are nice but I have no faith in people that way. You can slam charity and compassion messages in their face 24/7 and they'll still pass the buck to some less busy person out there somewhere. Not that there is one, but they'll pretend it and the few people actually working with those less socially endowed will continue so overworked they can't do the job right.
Imagine if they put their money into hiring counsellors instead of commercials and actually provided real services vs streamlining the medication deliver process which is all they're going to do ultimately? No really, you don't think they really expect people to reach out and solve some of the problems of the mentally ill by actually giving a fuck about them, do you? No, the idea is going to be to recruit more community members to the cause of drugging more people for yet more petty reasons!!
Laughing at a funny movie and the people around you noticed? You have giggle outburst disorder. Crying because you're lonely? Well, that's depression and if you don't take antidepressants for it then you're not seeking help. Antidepressants is such an outrageous term for these things. They work by depressing the emotional system. It feels like being at the final stage of depression where you can't feel anymore and just don't give a damn, and then to ensure you don't have the energy for suicide, it also makes you lethargic and stupid.
What I always thought they wanted from me, to let me participate in the world, with a job, friends, etcc., is to turn myself into a Down's Syndrome baby (like they thought I was at birth). Utterly stupid, slow enough to outrace at anything, eager to please others, and unable to complain or wantanything else except whatever they toss at me that nobody else wants. Eat what is handed to me, without caring if it's good for me. Die when the whole thing crumbles to disease at age 60. Only I won't die. I can't die. I'm here for a very special punishment I don't even understand and I don't get to die till I'm over a century old. I can get sick enough to be worse than dead, but I can't actually check out early. I don't know who set this punishment, or why, or what it's good for, but I know that's my fate, the experience I'm here for.
Days like this I wish I had more industry to keep my brain busy. It's been all morning I can't get off this topic in my head. I've got a knitting project I just restarted, and a last Lovely Box to paint, since nobody wants them, I'm going to stop. I'll find other things to print and paint but at some point I'm just going to feel bad wasting material. Blah. shitty day. Time to smoke enough THC to drug me like those antidepressants are supposed to do.