A Toronto Poet's Work In Action

(This is a reply to the story I re-blogged that can be found underneath this)

I know this story. It’s close to my own in many ways, minus a few diagnosis I haven’t sought to accept, as in: I know I have dyscalculia, it’s jut not diagnosed. HELLO to the reason I gave up math! I was never anorexic, but bulimia does creep up on me every now and then. With a father who’s a dentist, I try and keep that under wraps. Also, never diagnosed ADHD, but man I might as well be. I always have to occupy my mind and body while awake. Cue: drinking tea, chewing gum, doodling, writing, typography, playing with my hair, playing with jewelry, making jewelry, passing notes in class, asking too many questions in class, and honestly this list never ends. 

Not sure what tubal ligation is, but now I’m scarred. I hope that’s not in my future!

I can’t count the different combination of drugs I’ve been on, or the many maaannny different kinds of drugs that those combinations consist of. 

I also have a slew of unrelated learning disabilities. Too many to even keep track of. One has to do with the inability to have a clear conception of time. One has to do with inability to accurately perceive space. One is a scanning disability (I can’t tell you how many times I’ve missed sections on tests or answered the wrong questions because I read something wrong or missed it entirely. Actually, it’s worse then this). One is a spelling disability. One is a grammar disability. Oh, have I mentioned I’m an english major!?

Despite all that, I’m a B+ to A student. My professors are always a little sad when they can’t give me A’s or A pluses, because I know the material better then most of the A students, or at least as good as them. 

On top of all that, I have friends who also deal with all these issues. Best friends. Too many of them. This week five friends I’m incredibly close to are going through major depressive episodes. At least one of them is suicidal. On top of that there have been two deaths in the family.

My Aunt’s in mourning. I was holding her hand a few days ago, comforting her, and talking about sleep medications. I asked her how she was, she asked me how I was. My response: “I’m fine. How are you.Your brother just died, lets talk about you. You know you can talk to me. I’m good at depression.” And my grieving aunt, face torn with wrinkles, bones frail, under-eyes black, laughs, asks her newly widowed sister in law if she heard me. My aunt agrees to my statement, still laughing: “Yes Shawna, you’re good at depression.”

I’m a full time student. I should be graduating, but I’m still technically in my second year. I’m a writer, working to get into a highly competitive program I should have already been accepted to, but I’m not accepted. No, my episodes last year made it so I could only complete two courses. Two out of five. I did at least three courses worth of work, and essays, but that matters not.

I’m afraid to go certain places in my university because I know how many people think I’m crazy. All of 2011 I was episodic, which is the worst my bipolar one has ever has been. I’ve lost a lot a friends that way, and there are homes people won’t let me in side of. I have friends I still love and love me that live inside some of those homes, but they might as well be countries away. 

But I’m beautiful, and compassionate. I’m a story teller and a poet. I’m an unlicensed therapist, which all my friends know. They all say I’m better then the ones they pay for. 

And, I’m happy. I’m loved. I’m lucky. I’m have too many friends to count, and make friends easily. I’m finicky. I’m free. I’m disorderly but always get things done. I’m passionate, more so then can be guessed. 

And hey, whoever may be reading this: that word, “mental illness”, it needs to be changed, scratched out. We are not sick or cured, we just likely struggle more then most of  those other kids in your lecture hall. And those who had the most profound influence on the world; scholars today say if they were alive they’d be medicated too.

All these disorders make people reach further, and become some of the greatest human beings to ever live. Don’t run away from us. Embrace us. 

 riceballinafruitsbasket:

I’m diagnosed with a variety of psychiatric conditions: Bipolar I Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, ADHD, and a learning disability called Dyscalculia. As a teenager I battled Anorexia Nervosa. I’ve been hospitalized on a psychiatric ward three times since the age of 14, tried over thirty…

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