Can I ask for a moment of your time? You are a passerby on the street, perhaps a distant acquaintance, or maybe even a longtime friend. Here I am, asking for 10 minutes out of your day to discuss how much of a miracle we all are. If we seriously consider what it means to exist, despite, I believe many of our worries will simply be shed off of our souls. Despite the hell we've walked through, despite the knife death sometimes holds at our throats, despite what is essentially everything around us always trying to set us back.
Today marks exactly 11 months since I wrote "The Right Diagnosis", a piece where I documented the issues with having a diagnosis without a suitable treatment. Again and again, I learn that a diagnosis, although medically relevant, has no significant bearing on one's life whatsoever. A diagnosis does not necessarily breed action, nor does it… Continue reading We Don’t Know What We Don’t Know
When I bring my car into the shop and my headlight's broken, my side view mirror swivels a cool 180 degrees on its own, the tires need rotating, and my oil needs changing, I don't need my technician to sit me down and say, "well your headlights need replacing." Correct, I can't see at night.… Continue reading The Right Diagnosis
Amidst the explosion of readership and shares, I decided to respond to some of the comments and share some personal stories of those who struggled at Truman.
I think this may clear up some of the things that I had stated in the original letter. Although I have left the university, I am still actively trying to support efforts to reform the policy as well as student mindset.
Just as mental illness has no single cause, there is no single person or variable we can point fingers at. This must be a collective effort from students and family, faculty, administrators, and alumni alike.
I'm just hoping that action can be taken sooner, rather than later.
Please also read: re: A Mental Prison To the reader: I wrote the majority of this essay before I left the university after my Spring 2018 semester. I was asked my opinion on how the school could better address the existing and largely ignored stresses of being a student at Truman State University. However, as… Continue reading A Mental Prison
Earlier this year, on August 19th, I sat on a barstool in my apartment with a towel wrapped around my waist and another draped over my shoulders. Water from my hair dripping down my face and hands trembling, I slowly uncapped the handle of rum and bottle of sleeping pills that I had set down in front of me. As I cried silently into my worn t-shirt, I felt the overwhelming weight of the world crashing down on me once again: the disappointment, the fear and helplessness, the feelings of worthlessness, the feeling of losing everything, all of it an insurmountable tsunami that had inevitably hit me again and again before.
After seeing a seemingly endless number of therapists and doctors, I was convinced that I needed medications to feel good -- to feel like a normal person again. Merely talking to someone about how I felt and my problems just didn't seem to be getting results, which led me to think, “people smoked to get… Continue reading The Happy Pills