//Please note that I didn’t write this blog post. Please don’t give me credit for this post… even though https://hazelhillboro.wordpress.com/ is one of my favorite blogs. Go check out her posts for a few reasons:
- She is a literature teacher, so her grammar, metaphors, and overall writing style is on point (always something I will endorse).
- She has incredible insight on mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder.
- She understands humor… like she gets it, y’all. Finally, someone gets it.
- Speaking of “getting it,” she definitely conveys a lot that I wish I could say regarding my disorder, so instead of reading my failed attempts to type my feelings, read hers. She’s da homie, fam.
“I don’t really believe in mental illness,” I said. This is always a great way to start off a conversation with psychiatrists. You can almost see the smoke come off of their pencils as they try to write fast enough about how crazy you are. I wasn’t joking, though. I was on psychiatrist #4, and I still didn’t believe in mental illness.
I perched on the edge of my comfy blue chair and eyed the kleenex box next to me. I wondered if psychiatrists get immune to people crying sort of like kindergarten teachers do. Kids cry all the time, so I’ll secretly think things such as, “I’m sorry Timmy took your cookies, but actually I don’t care. Stop crying.” I wondered if psychiatrists have also become jaded and learned not to care. I made a mental note not to cry, just in case. I looked around at the “calming” decorations: beach scenes…
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