I have a confession to make.
I do.
I have been lying to you all.
Yep.
Absolutely!
I’ve been lying to everyone for the last 28 years, 11 months, 3 weeks and lord knows how many seconds! Now, a week or so before my 29th birthday I have decided to come clean, stand up and confess. Has to be done, no question about it, can’t keep up these lies any more.
Ok…?
Here goes…

[deep breath]

I
am
NOT
a
MAN!

[blimey that feels good!]

It’s like this fifty eight thousand tonne weight has been lifted off my somewhat hairy back. It’s true though – I’m not.

It’s perfectly understandable why you’d all think that I am, what with; the presence of a beard, chest hair, rippling muscles, an Adam’s apple, a penchant to get a hard on at the mere passing thought of a naked woman, and the ability to turn into a raving ape at the actual sight of a naked woman…and oh yeah, I’ve got a penis.

But alas, I am not a man.

Why?

Well, I don’t feel the desire to – when ratarsed – piss in shop doorways; I don’t wolf whistle at woman as they walk down the street; I don’t chug pints of beer as a hobby; nor do I watch sports [breath] I don’t shag other women when I’m in a relationship; I remember birthdays and anniversaries and all sorts of grossly inappropriate important events; I never leave the toilet seat up nor do I feel the need to play the “I can get less urine in the bowel than you” game [breath] I think beer tastes like luke-warm yak’s vomit; I don’t feel the need to lie to a woman constantly in order to (a) impress her (b) cheat on her or (c) bang her; I don’t play football nor receive ridiculously pseudo-erotic pleasure from watching guys running around a field in tight shorts but I do however receive ridiculously pseudo-erotic pleasure from watching a man in a waistcoat screw a ball the length of the table [breathe] I see woman as more than just t-a-c; don’t keep a tally of how many lays I’ve had; I drink alcopops…in public…have never vomited into a pint glass; stolen a witch’s hat; got into a fight; screwed my girlfriend’s best friend nor would I no matter how tempted I may be [breathe] I’d never slap a woman in the face; nor on the ass as a means of coming on to her [smaller breath] I would never give a woman a job based solely on the quality of her posterior; nor get into a discussion about rating my friends’ tits on a 1-10 scale; I wouldn’t scribble 100 words for a woman’s sacred garden above the urinals in the pub…sacred garden? You need more proof? Fine…my mood changes frequently; I talk about my emotions; am not afraid to cry if I want to; nor even when I don’t [breath] I want babies; I want commitment; I like living somewhere where I can see the carpet; I’ve never measured my cock when I’m alone; when I’m talking to a woman I’m looking at her eyes – not her tits; I really don’t see the appeal of a g-string; think cricket is bloody stupid; and would much rather be sitting on a beach talking to a woman about the advantages/disadvantages of John Howard than sitting on a beach staring at her arse [breath] I really don’t see why women need to shave their legs; or their armpits; or their moustache and to be blunt would much rather sleep with someone with a bush hairier than a badger’s back than a bald bush smoother than that of a prepubescent schoolgirl; oh, and I care more about woman orgasming than I do my own, colour me selfish that way [breath] I have no problem ballroom dancing with another man; I have no problem hugging another man; I have no problem talking emotionally with another man; I have no problem crying in front of another man; I have no problem going to see a Doctor if I’m sick; nor do I have a problem with eating an egg and broccoli quiche whilst asking for directions from a man chowing down on a steak sandwich; and oh yes, I admit to making mistakes.

[breathe]

[before I pass out]

Bloody hell I could go on all day, but hey, the easiest way to prove my massive (almost) 29 year long deception – I have no problem with standing up before the whole of the world and announcing: I am suffering from depression!

[oh]

[hang on]

[ummmmmm]

I…ummm…made…a…mistake.

Sorry. Sorry everyone. Dammit, I got it wrong.

I am actually a man after all.

A hell of a man!

Far more so than anyone who fits into the categories I described above; and any man who dares say otherwise may very well be the second person to get a bitch slap from me. And any woman who dares say otherwise – well – if I don’t know them they may get a scolding glare, if I know them, maybe a slap on the butt (‘cause remember I don’t bitch slap women nor do I slap their asses as a means of coming on to them, keep up!)

To be a man, is to be one thing: courageous.

In today’s world, where men are vilified by woman on an almost global scale and forced to become the Neolithic apes they despise so much in order for them to be interested in you (I know, go figure!) being a man is to have the courage to: cry whilst watching Bambi; actually ask for help from the female shop assistant when buying lingerie for your girlfriend; talk about tampons and hormones with your girlfriend; order quiche in the restaurant; actually buy lingerie your girlfriend would like and feel sexy in rather than something you want to see the female shop assistant wear for you; tell your girlfriend if you’ve had a fight with your best mate; cry whilst eating the best piece of tofu you’ve ever tasted; nervously shake when you kiss a woman for the first time; say no to your girlfriend’s best friend when she’s seducing you in the nuddy; realize sport is a complete waste of your life; that pissing in doorways just makes you look like a twat; take your girlfriend’s tampon out of her bag and give it to her without treating it like a live hand grenade; nervously shake when you kiss a woman for the first time badly; ask where her clit is & if there’s anything you’re doing wrong; cry if you’re feeling upset; not hit the first thing you see if you’re drunk, angry or stupid; say I love you in circumstances that don’t involve blow jobs; nervously shake when you kiss a woman for the first time badly and then joke about it afterwards; not always follow your penis’ every request; admitting to how you’re feeling; follow your beliefs no matter what they may be or how derisive your friends are being; not always cum first and then falling asleep; put the toilet seat down; go to the Doctor; tell your girlfriend you have a problem; hell, tell any of your friends that you have a problem.

Being a man is having the courage to stand up and admit that you have a mental illness and not care what anyone thinks.

[And I’m not just saying that because I’m a man who is doing this same exact thing]

That one simple word is all what being a man is. Believing in yourself so much that you don’t care what other men or women think of you. If other men can’t handle it, then, they don’t deserve that beer they pretend to like so much. If women can’t handle it, then, remember that the most important thing is the emotional connection you have, not how many or how often you’ve shagged.

Quality, not quantity.

This insipid culture we now live in where a man is considered to be weak, worthless and spineless because he admits to having a mental illness is what is costing lives. More men die from suicide every year than women. More men go through life in pain than women. Why? Because they’re too afraid to admit they have a problem. Why? Because they don’t have the courage to stand up to the fear, derision and masculine stripping vilification they will receive from all corners if they do. Why? Well, that’s just because everyone’s decided what a man should be instead of realizing they are – like women – human. Men don’t come from Mars any more than women don’t come from Venus (and just for the record, you don’t have to like visiting Uranus to be man).

One of the purest forms of the stigma against mental health is also one of the vilest forms of stigma out there; sexism. And however controversial this may sound, it’s being propagated by women just as much, if not more so, than by men.

Women desire men to be men and this means not having flaws or problems or weaknesses.
In order for a man to be accepted they must act in this way regardless of how they’re feeling.
For we wouldn’t want to be weak now would we!

In a discussion on mental illness I was once told by someone that they could believe and accept in the existence of a woman suffering from post natal depression, but could not believe that depression was something a man could suffer from. In other words, in women it is perfectly acceptable but in men, it is seen as a weakness, a trait to be avoided, ignored, derided and laughed at.

Is it any wonder why so many men are blowing their heads off or chucking themselves off bridges?

Tell me, what’s more courageous?

1. Bottling up all of your emotions so that a woman can respect you, only for your brains to redecorate your office?
2. Admitting to a woman that you have a problem, even if it means never visiting her sacred garden again?

Yep, you’re right.
If it is indeed true that a woman can’t be attracted to a man that cries, then there is something seriously wrong with the world in which we live. Men have feelings, men feel pain, men hurt – and they should be allowing to show it without recrimination.
Women need to realize this.
Men need to realize this.
We all need to realize this.

by Addy
Originally posted on All that I am, all that I ever was… (November 2007)

The focus on gun control and mental illness after school shootings is largely unjustified. Of course, this is common knowledge to people with any shred of logicality, but I’m going to take it a bit further. There are many factors involved in these shootings, including parental neglect, reading insane material, depression, and…..

ZERO TOLERANCE POLICIES!

Yep, I said it. The very policies that the schools supposedly ‘rely on’ to ‘prevent’ violence are actually a major cause of explosive violence and school shootings.

Why? They don’t differentiate between self defense, retaliation, and aggression. This creates a catch 22 for people who are made fun of and feel as though they have nothing to do. Their parents can commonly be seen calling the school, but the school does little, and if they do, the insults continue behind administrators backs. Even so, they’re called rats and made fun of even more.

This unintelligent school policy not only reeks of lack of empathy, but is blatantly in line with the ‘politically correct’ groupthink of today.If these individuals ignore aggression, they run the risk of getting hurt but much more likely being completely humiliated. This leaves one option: fight back.

However, with zero tolerance policies, all parties involved are almost always punished equally. This leads to many who just defend themselves or stand up for themselves to think that they are at fault, and even if they realize that this is not the case, it creates a lot more frustration than necessary.

People who are made fun of and snubbed thus have no option other than to suffer, or explode like many of the school shooters do. Even before these ‘zero tolerance policies’, school policy largely started leading up to this. It clears the school’s ass of blame no matter what and makes for an easy method of ‘processing’ cases without any real critical thought, time or effort.

I’m not condoning school shootings. I understand that they are the minority of those put in this situation; those who have come across certain rhetoric, those who are often abused the worst, those who have formed thoughts that it is okay to commit such a horrible act. But just imagine a poor kid who has been verbally and physically abused in school for eight years. He finally gets the guts to fight back and guess what happens? He’s suspended, or worse, maybe expelled if he does a number on the other guy. What’s more, his parents make him out to be bad. In the short term, it may shut things up, and make the school look peaceful. But in the long term it fuels an explosive rage that just doesn’t go away.

So, next time you see this on the news, don’t think ‘That guy just must be crazy!’ It’s certainly true that some may be in a rather unstable state of mind, but think of the causes of this. Think of the treatment they endure, and think about how all their exists are blocked. Different people have different tolerance levels depending on many different factors, and though we should not condone violence, we must give suffering individuals a method to alleviate that suffering.

Otherwise, we are unfortunately contributing to the problem.

by sociopathicregret

“Pop quiz hotshot; how many times have I used the word stigma in this blog?”

Got your answer, good, scribble it down on a piece of paper because you’re about to do some basic maths. (You shouldn’t need a calculator)

Now, head over to Facebook and see how many times I’ve used the word there – and remember, there’s more on Facebook than just a profile page, we’re talking about every single time I have used that word there; groups, blogs, wall-to-wall messages, the lot!

Got your answer, excellent. Scribble it down after the number you had from this blog.

Now, go onto DepressionTribe, My BlogLog, MySpace (ick), every single blog listing directory I am on. Go into every message board, forum, chat room, email and website I have visited or sent in the last 4 weeks and take down every single time I have used the word stigma. To make it a little easier, some of my room IDs are: addy, straythoughts, addy50of3, allthosestraythoughts and naughty_addy (for those times when I’m just feeling cheeky!)

Got all those answers.

Excellent.

“Pop quiz hotshot; how many times have I used the word stigma on the internet as a whole in the last 4 weeks?”

You answer is…?

Well, I can’t tell you if you’re correct or not because, to be honest, I couldn’t even be bothered working out how many times I’ve used it on this blog, so whilst you’ve all been hurriedly trying to work this out in the hope of winning a sandwich toaster or a “John Howard: He’s a Twat!” commemorative mug, I’ve been logged in to some of those chatrooms having some cheeky fun as and messing with all your sums by just repeatedly typing stigma over and over again. Ah, good times! I will however ask this:

“Pop quiz hotshot; what the hell do I mean by stigma?”

Well, I can tell you that according to Dictionary.com, stigma is: a mark of disgrace or infamy or an identifying mark or characteristic. In other words, it is when you label a particular person, or group of people, as deserving to not receive as much respect as others. It is a mark of disgrace, it is a mark of ill repute, and it is a mark which they will carry with them for the rest of their lives. It is a mark which makes living a “normal” life almost an impossible task. Drastically affecting how they are perceived; by strangers, the media, employers, the medical profession, and even friends.

It’s interesting that an archaic meaning of stigma is a mark made by a branding iron on a criminal or slave. From my experience, I believe that there are people out there, who would happily make it law to physically brand someone who is suffering from a mental illness. This way the greater population is made aware of this shameful “lesser” human being so they can avoid them at all costs. So why not just do that?

I have had to endure so much stigma in regards to this part of who I am that, just like so many other people like me, I have been mortally afraid of mentioning it, talking about it, admitting to it, discussing it and making people aware of it so often in the past simply because I did not want to be judged for it. This is a risk I am running now and it is a risk that I am willing to take.
How is it a risk?
Easy: It is going to affect EVERYTHING that happens in my life from this point on!

People are now completely aware – or have the possibility to be aware – of everything about me. All those panic attacks and cigarette burns and suicide attempts and self-assaults with the knife are now available for the world to see – to read – to digest – to judge – to insult – to criticize – to throw back in my face. It’s going to affect friendships (past and future), relationships, family, employment, medical…my god what the hell am I doing???? I think I have just pretty much abolished any chance of that ridiculously twee dream of wife, two kids, job and a cute pet wombat.

So…why exactly am I opening up the darker recesses of my soul for the whole world to see?
Simple.
The answer has so far been written 9 times in this post – it was in the title.

STIGMA

Stigma is the very reason I finally decided to open myself to the world. I am tired of people seeing me as some crazy worthless piece of crap. I am tired of being considered to be a selfish self absorbed little man. I am tired of being accused of being lazy, weak and malingering. I am tired of being told to “cheer up and just get over it”…! I am tired of lying and pretending about my past and who I am. I am tired of people just not understanding what it is that I feel and go through. I’m tired of the misconceptions.

“Pop Quiz Hot Shot! True or false!
1. Psychiatric disorders are medical conditions like diabetes or heart attacks.
2. All people with a mental illness are violent and dangerous.
3. Mental illness is indicative and a result of bad parenting.
4. Addiction is a lifestyle choice so that makes you morally weak.
5. Depression and anxiety does not exist in children or teenagers, it’s merely “teen angst”.
6. Schizophrenia is split personality and as such there’s no way to control it.
7. A change in brain chemistry is a cause of depression.
8. You can cure a mental illness by pretending it’s not there and wishing it away.

(no peeking now!)

. TRUE
2. FALSE
3. FALSE
4. FALSE
5. FALSE
6. FALSE
7. TRUE
8. FALSE

All of the eight questions were examples of common myths and preconceptions surrounding mental illness. I’ve included them as an example of some of the views that contribute to stigma which I have had to face over the years.
1. I have a medical condition, accept it. This is singularly the most recurrent example of stigma I have ever encountered. For some reason, and it has never been explained to me exactly why, people seem to believe that there is no such thing as mental illness. That it is something I bought on myself
2. Aside from the occasional moments when I’ve swatted a fly or a playful sexy bottom I’m not a violent man. I’ve never been in a fight, I’ve never whacked someone with a fish, I’ve never smashed a beer bottle over someone’s head and I’ve never even hurled a koala at anyone.
3. My parents were awesome, can’t say in any way they were bad.
4. I am not morally weak.
5. ANYONE who has ever read the book Alone by Myself will never again believe that depression cannot happen to teenagers.
6. Schizophrenia is NOT split personality! Schizophrenia is a brain disorder that robs people of their ability to think clearly and logically.
7. Well duhhhh…
8. I swear that the next person who expects me to do this will be the very first person that I hurl a koala at!

I will state this now – YOU CANNOT CURE A MENTAL ILLNESS BY PRETENDING IT IS NOT THERE! You cannot solve anything by merely pretending it is not there. You can change the way you think about yourself by pretending, and as a logical step you can change the way you act by slowly believing this is who you are. However, at some point in time, this pretence will come crashing down around you, simply because you are lying – not only to yourself – but to everyone around you.

Sooner or later whatever it is you are lying about, whatever it is you are pretending not to feel, whatever it is you are pretending in order to avoid, will have to be dealt with in some way. You cannot run forever. You cannot hide forever.

I say this, because for many years, I tried to pretend I did not suffer from depression. I ignored it. I refused to take medication, go to psychologists, admit I had a problem, or seek help during the times that I felt this pretence slipping. I built a world on a foundation of lies, and for a while this world was the epitome of beautiful wonderment. It was a world that came crashing down around me – I had been pretending for so long, that when an earthquake that could only be described as a minor tremor rippled though my life, the foundations I had built upon were so weak that they collapsed and I didn’t have any knowledge of ways to cope with what I was feeling.

This belief that mental illness doesn’t exist, and that it is merely something I’ve created, is singularly the most dangerous form of stigma I’ve encountered. It is the bare bones in fact of the danger stigma against mental health and illness can cause – it is what is creating all the problems. Why? Because it is stopping people from admitting that they have a problem, and it is stopping them from seeking medical help!

Everyone wants to be normal, accepted, loved and lusted after.
Everyone wants a normal life consisting of a wife, two kids, job and a cute pet wombat.

If they are suffering from a mental illness, in the world as it is now, they are being made to feel abnormal because of the problem they have. They are being forced to hide from the world what it is they are feeling because they know that they won’t be accepted. They’re gonna be laughed at, ridiculed, insulted, accused of being selfish, malingering…they’re going to be made to feel like a “lesser human being” merely because they have an illness that people just don’t seem to understand. An illness which people will “label” them with for the rest of time.

Therefore, they have to pretend to not feel what they’re feeling. They have to forget about the pain and problems that they have. They have to bury them, ignore them and as a result do not seek treatment because by doing so will incur the wrath of the misunderstood majority. Ultimately they are forced to suffer ALONE, and if they are, then the chances of them not being able to cope increases exponentially – and this could lead to suicide.

I know – I’ve been there.

You would not expect someone who is suffering from diabetes to fight it by themselves without help.
You would not expect someone who is suffering from cancer to just pretend they didn’t have it and that this would cure them.

So why do people expect those suffering from a mental illness to do the same?
Why are people who suffer from a mental illness being labeled by some, as a lesser human being?
Why are people who suffer from a mental illness being made to feel ashamed of the problems they have?
Why are people who starve themselves, cut themselves, attempt suicide, have breakdowns, and suffer depression made to feel weak for seeking help?

The only answer I really have is because of the huge misconceptions that surround the world of mental health. The misconception that people who suffer from a mental illness do not have control of their mind – that they are people who wander the streets shouting at that invisible troop of gerbils, or are people who sit at home dressed as a badger polishing Mr Pointy, before heading out into the night convinced they are Badgie the Vampire Slayer. The misconception that people who suffer from a mental illness do not even have an illness so should just cheer up, stop malingering and dragging everyone down into their insidious tragedies.

Is there anything we can do to change this?
I don’t know about we, me? I’m trying – because it was this ill-conceived stigma that inspired me to write this blog in the first place. Yep, I am running a huge risk here. I am ripping myself open to the world, lying down all of the scars, metaphorical welts and bruises I have accumulated in the one singular hope that it may – just may – start making people realize what a mental illness feels like. What it can do to not only you but the people in your life that know you.

In the days leading up to the creation of this blog I spent a lot of time in depression and mental health related chatrooms and message boards – and one of the most common things I saw posted were all to do with how people felt alone and misunderstood. How they were scared of admitting how they felt because no-one – including themselves – considered them “normal”, or did not want to deal with the rejection they were expecting. What I wanted to do was create a place that was not just this is how you overcome depression that wasn’t just explaining what mental illness is and it’s symptoms. Yes, you will find those things here, but I wanted to create a place that described in brutal honesty exactly how I feel from time to time.
The thoughts in my head.
The voices whispering in my ears.
A place that may just make someone realize that they are not alone.
A place that may just make people understand mental illness a little better.
A place that comes not from a medical point of view, but a personal point of view.
A place that comes from the heart.

I wanted to create a place where one man, just one tiny insignificant voice in the whole pantheon of mental illness on the internet stood up against the oppressive prevalent stigma so determined to; silence, objectify, malign and destroy those suffering from mental illness. I wanted to stand up to all those people who want us to just pretend we don’t have a problem, who want us to vanish or disappear – and proclaim “We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive!” and then just hope, that someone will listen, someone will start to understand, someone will change their mind…and that no-one (and I mean no-one) notices that I just quoted Independence Day in the public arena.

So, in conclusion, if those suffering from mental illness are to be physically branded, I would be the first to throw my flesh onto the table before that white hot metal rod.

by Addy
Originally posted on All that I am, all that I ever was