You were the one thing I could count on Even if your apathy was what I expected

These are scans of drawings that were done shortly after I was out of high school in 2005.

I also want to make a quick note that I still dress like this, wear my hair like this, and still have that Siouxise & the Banshees t-shirt. I no longer have those glasses, though. What's more, I didn't need them to begin with. I had blurred vision from lack of sleep (but a certain Succubus Decorator crab would somehow get the exact same ones).  At the very least, I am nothing if not consistent.

Anyway, moving on.

It's weird to look back on these and knowing that at the time, I knew I was a good artist, but little whispers of not being good enough from my peers--a lot of whom were copying my drawings and then having their friends leave comments about how "bad" my very similar pieces were (using my whole name, of course). And I know that seems insignificant now, but at the time, it left a very last impression on me. I was still a child when I drew that Alice. The amount of detail presented in the second drawing, including the background, would be unheard of from me now.

I share these images to put some of what I am going to tell you into perspective. Some of this I touched on the essay in which I spoke about not knowing if I am actually Autistic or not. Some of this I have previously touched on in the various tags attached to this entry, which you can peruse should you be so inclined. 

The rest of this essay is going to be a discussion surrounding mental health and wellness and some of the causations thereof. If this is not the conversation for you, please see yourself out, and I will see you next time! :)

I want to talk about how I saved myself.

In my essay where I talk about whether or not I am Autistic, I mention that as a teenager, I was experiencing a mental health crisis that very nearly cost me my life. And, you know, had it not been for people telling me to go unalive myself (because, looking back on it, of course you would want your perceived competition to die), I would not be here today. It's funny how that works. My entire life, people have told me I would never make it or would fail and it was the motivation I needed to succeed. People telling me to remove myself from this mortal coil set something off inside of me that I had to live and not just live, I have to thrive.

The film Girl, Interrupted came out in 1999. I remember watching it with an older relative (who not only was prone to watching wildly inappropriate things in front of me, but also heavily identified and admired the diagnosed sociopath). The main character in the film had Borderline Personality Disorder, and I remember thinking that there wasn't anything that wrong with her, but did think about her diagnosis a lot. I put a pin in my brain for the phrase "Borderline Personality Disorder." Mostly I was distracted by how aesthetic the film was, and identifying with Brittany Murphy's character. There was also something about the preconceived ideas of social nonconformity misaligned as insanity that stuck with me. Mostly I thought the movie was silly, and I thought the book was dull.

When I was dealing with my Lake Depression Splice Capades (ya like THAT one???), my brain came back to the Girl, Interrupted film and that phrase "Borderline Personality." They couldn't give me an answer about what was actually wrong with me, but were forcing me on psych meds that were wholly incompatible and had already killed two people I knew. So, I did as any weirdo girl would do in the age before the internet, and I went to the school library. I found a book aimed at teens about mental health issues, such as eating disorders and self-harm. In the book was a check list page with the then applicable criteria for a BPD diagnosis (as mentioned in my Autism essay, much of these have been either amended or removed). The librarians wouldn't let me photocopy the page, so I... I tore out of the book. Listen, I am not proud of this, but when I tell you that I was desperate, I mean desperate. The adults in my life had repeatedly failed me, and the mental health professionals refused to meet my concerns.

Had I not done this, I would be dead today.

I took the check list home, and compared it with my own behaviours. I knew that I was broken. I knew that I was out of control. I knew that I was toxic. I also knew that not a single adult in my life was going to help me. I did not want to be this person. I did not want to cut myself and not remember I had done it, and then walk around at school with exposed fresh cuts--not for attention, but because I literally did not remember that I had done this, and thought it I could pretend nothing was wrong, it wouldn't be. I did not want to suffer from these black outs. I did not want to be that person who responded with toxicity to the toxicity that had been directed at me.  I did not want to be that person who said awful things because they were on medications that took away all of their inhibitions and self-control. I KNEW that this was wrong, and that there was something wrong with me. I was an emotional monster and I knew that, in my core, in my heart of hearts, that this was not who I was and not who I was going to be. I know that a lot of people revel in their sickness. I know some people take comfort in their sickness. But I hated it, I didn't want to be that way, and I knew that I had to change.

From that day I brought the list home and onward, every time I thought of something or went to do something, I compared it with the check list--was this real, was this appropriate, or was this a symptom? I also stopped taking the incompatible medications, and the improvement was instant. It would take years for my brain to fully repair itself, but the immediate results from removing them from my life cannot be understated. It would, again, take years for my brain to repair itself, but the instant effects of removing harmful things were mind-blowing. 

I was not going to let people who wanted me to kill myself win.

And, you know, the recent failure of the mental health profession to clearly identify what is wrong with my brain certainly hasn't endeared themselves any more to me, but I am grateful for the advances the industry HAS made. I am grateful that we are no longer in the early 2000's, and that there is more access to better care, even if it is still sorely lacking.

So, why am I talking about this 20 years later? Because it still matters to me. Not wanting to be that person matters to me. Wanting constantly to be better matters to me. Wanting to make the world a kinder and softer place matters to me. I am not going to pretend these things never happened. Even if the things that happened are foreign to me now, who I am now is informed by that person. There is no miracle cure. It is a consistent constant you have to actively engage with for the rest of your life. I had almost no help, and I want to help work towards a world that isn't like that any more. 

Just like that checklist that saved me, nothing exists in a vacuum, and while nothing is an excuse, you can use something to inform the present.