sharpestrose:

monstersinthecosmos:

wicked-felina:

On functional depression and anxiety

I keep seeing an inability to function posited on this site as the
absolute nadir, the holy grail of depression, as if mental health
problems are only real if you are in bed, refusing to shower and
forgetting to eat.

I think this means that those of us who are
‘functional’ are often seen as suffering less, or that we have not truly
hit rock bottom. A large part of this may be that a sizeable portion of the
Tumblr demographic is quite young and composed of people who have not
yet had to fend for themselves.

The fact is, for many of us,
the terrifying threat of poverty simply has to come first before
getting better in any way or allowing ourselves to address issues. I
have wished in the past so much that I could just stay in bed for two
weeks and sort out my head, cry, have a meltdown, and perhaps go some
time without showering.

I’m not depressed now, but my
generalised anxiety makes working an ordeal every single day (lmao my
brain doesn’t rest from work anxiety over the weekend, I’m afraid).

But
there are bills to pay, and some of us have kids to feed, pets to look
after, and no sick pay or vacation days at our disposal. So even if you
have lain awake all night in existential dread, even if you have to
stick your headphones in and turn your music up every morning because
you can feel a panic attack coming on when you are on the train to work
or college, and when one small bit of criticism from your boss means
that you cry in the bathroom and have learnt how to splash water on your
face to stop the telltale signs of your misery manifesting themselves
in the office, you go on. You have no choice, none whatsoever.

So
my point is this – even falling, even being depressed, is mired in
classism to the point that not functioning is some kind of weird
privilege. And don’t get me wrong – if you can’t function, it’s hardly something great. It’s terrible and crushing and damaging. Even those of us who are
‘functional’ can’t go on and almost always end up having some sort of
meltdown. But please don’t think that it’s any easier for the functional
ones – it’s often exactly the opposite. It’s torture because it’s relentless. Bills and responsibilities don’t give a shit about your mental health, so if you have a good support network and your finances don’t rely on you turning up to your job every single working day, be grateful for that.

I could write such a fucking essay about this but you are SO right that it is about classism and privilege and I used to get so sick of people telling me I didn’t have it that bad if I could still function. (I say used to because BUH-BYE I don’t tolerate that shit in my life anymore LOL.)

There’s such a long term effect from this, too, it mangles you so bad. When I was in college, there were so many days that the only reason I scraped the energy together to go to class was because my anxiety about disappointing my professors or having to deal with flunking out was WORSE than the anxiety of whatever was making me want to stay home, and it was a conscious effort on my part to always try to focus on the thing that felt worse and use it as motivation. Same goes with going to work, even when I’m anxious or depressed, because the anxiety over being homeless is WORSE. 

And it’s… not healthy? To pit anxieties and triggers against each other like that? And go with the easier path? It just means you’re constantly anxious without actually coping with anything lmfao. 

I mean I know the economy is in the toilet and so many people are still relying on their parents for longer than we were intended to, as well as the complication that Tumblr’s conversations are often driven by the impulse to woobify mental illness, but this is so fuckin real yall. 

I I used to get so sick of people telling me I didn’t have it that bad if I could still function. (I say used to because BUH-BYE I don’t tolerate that shit in my life anymore LOL.)

Oh man I’m jealous. I don’t have a choice of cutting it out of my life, because it’s my mother who says that to me about myself (and about friends who have been hospitalised!! HOW SICK DO YOU HAVE TO BE BEFORE IT’S REAL AUGH) – “You aren’t trying to stab members of your family, or ranting incoherently on the street to strangers. That’s mental illness. You don’t have that.”

It’s immensely upsetting and frustrating. Trying to have a life when you’re crazy is so hard but the more invisible you make your sickness in order to survive the less real anyone will acknowledge it is. Covering a bullet wound with a bandaid doesn’t make the bullet wound magically not exist anymore!