(I fully expect a lot of people to be rather venomous after reading this. Go ahead; I have a thick skin.)

It should be a surprise to no-one (read: a previous entry) that I suffer with mental health problems; more specifically depression, anxiety and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder, or winter depression). I’m glad I can talk about it to people who are in my life, and those that can talk about their coping techniques to get through the day. I’m far from unique in my issues, but once again I find myself at the point where I just look at the world and get a little bit angrier at it.

World Mental Health Day is supposed to be a day when we bring mental health to the forefront of the public mind, talking about the stigmas surrounding it and the ways those that suffer with mental issues can get treatment. It’s supposed to be something that just sits in the back of all our minds after we see it, and  for those that are undiagnosed to possibly use it as a crutch to get over the mogul of suffering in silence and actually ask for help. But what I don’t like is seeing everyone trying to celebrate mental health issues, that they’re completely normal to have. Mental disorders are not normal. Mental disorders are anomalies that, were we an animal species, would be taken care of by Darwinism.

What I’m specifically talking about here is the tumblr-centred SJWsphere where everyone is a special snowflake just because they diagnosed themselves on WebMD, or are going to a therapist without having been referred there by a medical professional. It honestly infuriates me, because I know several people who have been diagnosed and are awaiting treatment because their local health services can’t deal with the influx of people who are waiting (I personally had to wait three months just to talk to someone after my evaluation, without being triaged based on severity). In fact what they’re really missing is a solid upbringing and a moral centre that has any gravitational pull beyond the self-centred ‘me too!’ culture that has enveloped some of my generation, some of the generations prior, and most of the generations henceforth. The ones that truly need help are the quiet ones, because in the big picture they’ve made themselves quiet to make sure that nobody will miss them, or they are too incapacitated from said mental health issue to speak up. It is their signals that are lost in that white noise of ignorance and narcissism.

There’s a culture that is rife online, based around everyone having something that is diagnosed, almost always by themselves, or otherwise a diagnosis given under stress by a Doctor that is tired of seeing them every week with the same spoken (but importantly not expressed) ‘symptoms’. Autism is a favourite right now, along with personality disorders when in fact they are not a cry for help, but a self-centred cry for attention. Celebrating one’s mental disorders with #WorldMentalHealthDay is akin to the stupidity of #ShoutYourStatus when someone decided having STIs was worth declaring to the world, or the lulz-induced #PissForEquality.

How long it will take for these people to understand the true ramifications of what they’re doing is anyone’s guess. My litmus test to find the truth would be a simple one, with a harsh honesty said to their face, with no hint of humour or irony.

There is something wrong with you.

If the response is anything other than words equating to ‘I know’, then I’d be more than happy to kick them square back into the tumblrsphere along with their so-called headmates and the alphabet soup of acronyms that make them sound like a well learned individual until it’s realised that each ‘label’ is a testament to their own hollowed-out self worth.

There is something wrong with the way my brain is wired, either through repeated patterns like ants pathfinding through a maze, or through hardwired chemistry and I don’t know which. I think not knowing in this case is better as it means I still feel like I can change it; whether I can change it or not is irrelevant to me personally. Believing I can change it gives me the mental strength to at least push back and try to live a ‘normal’ life. I don’t want anything ‘wrong’ with me to define me, nor should it. Depression and anxiety are a part of me, and like most that suffer I don’t want it to define me; I define me.

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