I Am Not Voting....Rant...Rant...Rant

I am not voting....

There I said it. I have heard the primed and often repeated response from several people that if a person doesn't vote, they have no right to bitch about who wins or what happens. I humbly, disagree.

As a human being living on this planet, I can bitch about pretty much anything I want to. Emphatically and without permission.  If the warm weather turns cold, I can bitch about it. If the laundry piles up right after I have washed and folded it and put it away, I can bitch about it and throw a hissy fit if deemed necessary. If the one of my lovely cats eats too much canned cat food and lets out silent but deadly plumes of acrid air as a thank you gift, I can certainly bitch about that too. None of those things are things that I have any control over nor are any of those things off topic for me to complain about simply because I did not go all the way in to town, by flagging down a ride, standing in a long line of people that I don't really want to stand next to, and filling out a tiny little box on some kind of new wave voting machine..... They just happened. Without my say so or my input. Much like this election.

 Now, I am sure some people are going to question why I am not voting and some people may even get huffy about it. I don't really care if they do, their perception of me is none of my business. I will, however explain why I am not now nor have I ever voted.

I am repeatedly assaulted with the same old regurgitation that not voting means that I can not "change the world"  and that to do my duty as a true American I need to stand by my representatives......but these people don't represent me. They don't even know I exist.

I am a thirty six year old woman with a mental illness.

I could say that I don't go to the polling place because of my anxiety. That is somewhat true but not the complete reason why I avoid voting. I could summarize the hardships of not being able to drive and toting two children with me to the bad part of town all by myself, filled with said anxiety, trying to find a way to get there in some one else's vehicle. I could try and muster up some money, I don't really have to spare, on a taxi because contrary to some people's beliefs not all jobs allow you to take off to vote and my husband has one of those kinds of jobs where he is needed because people would absolutely freak out if he wasn't there to help them. I could, but I am not going to. It would be pointless.

You see, the problem isn't just the hardship of mobility or the extreme anxiety I would suffer  just so some patriotic vote pushers could rest easier tonight on the absurd notion that my personal vote counts for something.

The problem is that my vote means nothing. My vote is irrelevant. The people that I am asked to vote for do not see me. They see a number. They see a chad or a check mark or whatever they use to tally votes now a days. What they don't see is the individual. The human being with mental illness.

No, my vote doesn't really count because the candidates don't care about mental illness. If they did they would talk about mental illness in a constructive way, not just a political jargon to please the masses. They would have put their money where their mouth is and would have been in the trenches fighting for us, our healthcare, our representation. They would be trying to fix this completely broken down mental health care  system that has failed us time and time again.....It is obvious to me that they either are not bothered by it or don't care enough to look at it in detail because if they did, they would do something to change it.

It is clear to me that my vote imperceptible because, for all intensive purposes, I am invisible to them.

 Look at the ads and tell me where just one of these candidates has talked about changing the false perception of mentally ill people? Show me their detailed plans on how they suggest we fix the problem of lack of hospital beds, lack of housing, lack of funding and facilities, and lack of compassion.  Tell me when they have brought up the few and far between programs that help the police deal with us in a constructive and non violent way. Show me where we are treated as the equally important individuals that we are. Show me where they have spent anytime discussing how they would change the system that has been said to have  64% of all persons in jail, 56% of all people in state prisons, and 45% of all people incarcerated in federal prisons suffering from mental illness symptoms. Show me the ads they have played that showed how they supported our causes and spotlighted our support groups. Show me where any of them, just once, talked about how suicide is the 10th leading cause of death of all age groups in America. Where is their campaign ad showing their outrage about that? What about the unacceptability that 22 veterans of this country kill themselves everyday? Where is the disgust that not enough is being done to help with PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression? Prove to me where they stood up for us and discussed our plight without the description or implication that we are somehow dangerous or criminal or less than everyone else. Show me the advocacy for the one in five American adults that will experience  mental illness each year. Can you do that?

No, I didn't think so.

So, no I am not voting. Not just because my vote doesn't really matter to them but because my vote matters very much to me. Up until the time I see a candidate raise our cause and fight for us, I refuse to raise my ass off this couch and make the effort to go downtown and deal with the anxiety of my very real mental illness, that is unequivocally unimportant  and invisible to them, and place my vote. I will not vote for someone who would not vote to help our situation and give our system the funding it needs to save the lives of other people that are just like us. I will not stand behind anyone who will not stand behind us and make it an essential part of their campaign to help the mental illness community with it's needs, it's under staffing, it's under funding, it's stigmatization, and it's misplaced shame. I refuse to do it.

I am positive that they will not miss my vote as they have not missed my vote in the eighteen years I have been eligible to vote and yet have remained silent. I am sure that they didn't even see that it was missing. That is okay, I am not bothered that my lack of voting is mind boggling to some people and my reasons are ignored by others. I and the other people that suffer from mental illness go unheard by the media and the people voted into office every day. This day is no different.

I do not need to have permission to be disappointed in my candidates. I do not have to apologize for standing up for what I believe in by not voting and I do not have to accept being put down, bullied, and shamed because I chose stick by those beliefs.

 The silence of my refusal to vote says more to me than me making some half-assed vote for someone that I am constantly told represents me. My refusal to vote is saying, if I don't matter to you than your election, that clearly has nothing to do with me in the first place, doesn't matter to me either.
If these people were really my representatives, and really represented all of us, I wouldn't have to resort to refusing my vote, which may be the biggest tragedy of the whole process, in my opinion.

I am not asking everyone else to not vote, I am simply explaining why I choose not to.

.......... and I boldly retain the right to bitch about that for as long I want too........


Neurotic Nelly

Excuse Me....Rant...Rant...Rant

        I love how people say they have experience with mental illness and then start talking about it in a way that lets you know they haven't the first clue how devastating and demanding it is of your time, your space, what little is left of your sanity, and your life. The soul sucking hole that laps up your very thoughts and drains your emotions like a mummified vampire from the worst B rated horror movie ever created. I love it, I truly do.

I also love feeling like I need to get into a "whose mental illness is worse" pissing contest with someone who thinks because they might have had small case of the "Debbie Downers" once or whatever they claim to be the mental illness  they "know" about is. And it makes me feel like yelling that mine was so bad that I almost killed myself so maybe..... just maybe.... I may know what the hell I am talking about. Because I am not talking about making excuses, or over exaggerating, or being dramatic. I am talking about thirty one years of carving out a path to walk down because each road in my life has big boulders of shit blocking every way I turn. I am talking about shit balls, here. Giant shit balls that roll down hill and threaten to smother you or crush you underneath them.

I don't need to be schooled on what is and isn't an excuse of mental illness. I am pretty sure that over three decades of dealing with it, I should at least have a bachelors degree in being mentally ill. Seeing as you only need around ten extra years of school to be a neurosurgeon, I think I have earned the "right to talk about what it is like to be mentally ill" badge from the girls scouts by now....I have several doctor's sign offs on being permanently disabled because of mine. I have being institutionalized at the age of ten at the local looney bin. I have almost being admitted again at the age of 20. I have not being able to drive, or work, or go to college. I have the fact that I no longer could go to school because of the extreme anxiety and the bullying because I would have panic attacks in class, so I dropped out. I have that I have no formal education past the 12th grade. I have battle scars just from leaving my house just to go to the fucking grocery store for God's sakes. I am actually certifiable because I literally am certified as mentally ill....but no, clearly you know more about mental illness than I. Because you have supposedly "experienced" it.

Well, I haven't "experienced" it, I fucking live it. Each and every day.   And I am not bitter about it, just real. It is not some pretty package wrapped up in a crisp red bow and left on your front porch as a gift. It is not an expensive wine or an artisan cheese. It is not something you smear on an over priced gluten free cracker and choke down with a warm glass of milk as a midnight snack. You do not "experience" mental illness. It is something you deal with. It is something you struggle through. It is something that you work on. It is not a pleasure cruise to fucking Boca. It is an illness in your brain.

Excuse me, for standing up for what I know to be true from not only my experiences but also the many mental illness survivors in my family, and sadly some that did not survive it. Excuse me, for understanding the many friends and bloggers that also have gone through mental illness and taught me things about other mental illnesses I was ignorant about. Excuse me, for saying that mental illness is not an excuse but it is a reality and it needs to be talked about and understood and not vilified or stigmatized because we wear that ugly over coat of shame and guilt and stigma every damn day and maybe we don't want to wear that stagnant, moldered, trench coat of self-condemnation  anymore because it isn't our shame or our guilt to be carried around but yours and ignorant people like you that sit behind a keyboard and make snap judgments and rude comments about something that you claim you may have "experienced" once in your lifetime. Excuse me, for actually knowing what I am talking about and seeing you for your inexperience of something you are so "experienced" in. Excuse me......

and fuck you....

Now please enlighten us some more on how you know about what living with mental illness is like because you have  so much "experience" with it.....

Neurotic Nelly

Things To Rant About....

I am thinking of occasionally talking about things that really piss me off. There is a bunch of them. I don't always rant about them, and I  don't always write about them, but they are there and they irritate me to no end. Here is this month's installment in no particular order....

OCD week....
I love OCD awareness week. It is my mental illness and I want to be a part of it. Last year I was bummed because I didn't have a printer and couldn't print the offical "I am So OCD" print out and take my picture with it. I went out and got a printer specifically, so I could participate this year and what happens? The site that usually has these printouts keeps saying that the new pic is coming soon, a week before OCD awareness week. Well, it is the second day of OCD awareness week and still no printout!!!! I am now obsessing about my OCD awareness printout. So yes, I am having OCD about my OCD. Wonderful....Guess I am going to have to just print out the UK one and take my picture with it. I love the UK but I am from America and I would like to have support from America about my mental illness as well. It baffles me as to why a simple printout is so hard to create. I am going UK this year so check out Thursday's post with me holding my OCD UK printout! And although I am happy to support OCD there it pisses me off there is nothing here to show my support....

Vertigo....
I was just diagnosed as having vertigo due to my ear drums and ear canals being severely scarred from tubes in my ears when I was a child. I no longer am able to drain the fluid out of my ears so every time I get sick or have bad allergies, my ears ears fill up with fluid leaving me to feel dizzy and unfocused. I now am taking 3 extra pills to combat this until the fluid dissipates. That means I now have to take 11 pills a day and I hate taking pills! I can't move my head without feeling weird and when I lay down the world spins like I am on some horrible theme park ride. Now, not only do I have bad eyesight that leaves me with poor depth of perception, I cant even tell now where the object I am reaching for actually is. I tried to grab something handed to me yesterday only to find I was grabbing for it about two inches to left of said object. I got up from the table at a restaurant and collided with an errant chair and table on the right side of me. Thankfully, no one was sitting there at the time and I just acted like it didn't happen but the thought of being even less able to walk and function on top of my blindness scares the shit out of me. Basically, I stagger around like I am drunk but without any of the pleasantries of being drunk. It makes me feel even more vulnerable, clumsy, and more of a burden than I have ever felt in my whole life. It sucks and it pisses me off.....

Birthday Ban....
An elementary in Kentucky has banned cupcakes and cake or anything edible on children's school birthday parties. Nothing says fun and birthdays like the erasers, pencils, and bookmarks they suggest you give your students instead. Yum. I know as a kid I would be so excited to receive such yummy treats as a graphite lead covered in wooden tubes with brightly covered paint or paper pressed book marks! Not....They claim it is to curb obesity but let's call a spade a spade shall we? One cupcake or piece of cake will do nothing for obesity. No one is one cupcake away from being fat. ( Gee, I was so skinny until I ate that one cupcake. Sheesh now I am 300 lbs over wieght just from that one afternoon in science class, said no one ever.) This is not alcohol addiction where you are one beer away from losing sobriety. It's a fucking cupcake for God's sake. These are children. Can't children just be allowed to be children without people pushing their odd personal political agendas and overall ignorance all over them? If you are worried about children being fat then increase their gym time and recess. Don't feed them lunch at 10:15 a.m. right after they just had breakfast at 7:45 a.m. Make them eat lunch at 12 like normal people. That way they don't come home at 4 p.m. starving to death and raiding the kitchen. It isn't a school's decision on food anyway. That is the parent's job. A school's job is to teach. Teach about health and healthy eating habits and exercise. Anyone who has ever dieted knows that diets don't work because you can not possibly hold up to never eating a cupcake or a piece of candy. If you refuse to let a child ever eat such things then they will gorge themselves on it when they become adults because now they finally have the option to try them. In short, leave the damn cupcakes alone and let the kids be kids for God's sake and do the world a favor and get over yourself.

Welfare Ignorance...
If I had a nickle every time I have heard some blowhard say that welfare recipients on food stamps waste their food stamps on booze and cigarettes I would be able to take all of the people on food stamps out to breakfast. Listen, I know this is hard to understand but try and keep up. Food stamps buy........food. And only food. No paper products, or alcohol, or tabcco products. It does not pay for laundry soap, or the pencils you may be forced to give your kids at school for thier birthday parties. It pays for stuff that you eat and that is all. If you had the runs and were out of toilet paper and had no money but $400 in food stamps, you would go home without toilet paper and try to figure out how to drum up enough money to buy toilet paper or try to wing it with using banana peels or the plastic bag that bread comes in because food stamps pay for things like bananas and bread but not for things like the magical fluffy white paper you wipe your butt with. Hence why the word Food is in the word "food-stamp". There is no cigarette stamp or booze stamp so stop it already. Just stop. If you have never been on food stamps than you have no idea how hard living on such things are. I have been on them twice and not for very long, but each time it was a hard and embarrassing experience. The way people treat you and look at you is mortifying. The judgments you receive because maybe you lost your job, or your loved one was too sick to work is unbelievable. It hurts. Sure there are people that abuse the system but that is not everyone and no one wants to be hungry or starve. Not all people who are obese are on food stamps and not all food stamp recipients are obese. I wasn't. And as for the "you should buy healthier stuff when on food stamps" comments you see all over the place, that would be doable if the healthier foods weren't almost twice the price of the cheaper fattier options. It must be nice to have never been on food stamps or have struggled to feed your family, but unless you have been on them you really have no idea how hard it is to try and live on them. No one buys cigarettes and booze with food stamps, it is impossible. Could the welfare system be better and more functional and less costly, yes, but don't blatantly lie about what food stamps can be used for. That is just ignorant and when you say things like that it makes you appear ignorant and it makes you appear to have a strong lack of compassion.

And finally the last thing that is pissing me off right now is:

Columbus Day....
I refuse to acknowledge this day. Christopher Columbus was not a brilliant, brave, fearless man. He was a murderer, thief, swindler, and liar. The reason this day is a supposed holiday here, mystifies me. Banks are closed and the mail doesn't run all because he "discovered" America. How in the hell do you discover a place that already has people living on it? That is like me going over to my neighbor's fenced in  yard, hammering a wooden stake in the ground and claiming that I have discovered their yard and it is now mine. Then we could have Nelly day and people could build statues of me and change my history around in the history books so I come out smelling like a rose and not be remembered for the things I actually did and how I actually did them. The only thing redeemable about there being statues of Christopher Columbus anywhere in this country is the fact that birds get to fly over him and defecate on his head everyday....He didn't discover land, he stole it. He found indigenous people on his "discovered land" and those people were raped, murdered, turned to slavery, and had all of their gold taken from them. Their lives were destroyed because he was greedy and corrupt, not to mention a tad bit full of himself. Wow, if that isn't someone to look up to and call a hero, I sure don't know what is. (That's sarcasm, folks.) I mean the man thought that he had reached India instead of America which is why Native Americans were called Indians for a very long time, and even the Caribbean Islands are often called the West Indies. But yea, he was sooo intelligent and an overall nice guy....cough...cough...bull shit...cough. Columbus day is a farce and I refuse to lower myself to the regurgitated bologna they try and teach about such a man and I certainly refuse to act as if what he was, is in anyway noble or worthy of being celebrated.

These are just some things that really irritate me and make me annoyed or trigger my OCD and make me rant. They aren't the first and I am sure they won't be the last. So, it got me to wondering what really bothers you guys?


Neurotic Nelly

It's Not An Addiction...Rant...Rant....

A Small Update:

A couple of weeks ago I updated my blog's background to this awesome vintage fabric my grandma made one of my favorite shirts out of. I thought it was funky and would make a cool background. I like to update my blog look every so often or it bugs me.

I also have added a new blog link section on the side to include other OCD blogs. I figured it made no sense to make finding us all so damn difficult. There are literally thousands of OCD sufferers walking the earth. Some of us are doctors. Some of us are teachers. Some of us are taxi drivers and some of us are bloggers. We are here and if people want to read about OCD to better understand what we go through or maybe even want to read  our blogs because they are also sufferers, than it should be easier for them to locate such blogs. So I hope this list will keep growing and more people join in. Please keep checking in for more OCD blog links! Or if you are an OCD blogger and would like me to add a link to your blog please let me know in the comment section. I only ask that you add a link to my blog somewhere on your site as well, to keep the "OCD blog ring" going. Now on to today's post....

-------------------------
It Is Not An Addiction...

I was looking up news about OCD because I like to stay informed about what is going on with my diagnoses. What I found instead was a blog post talking about OCD, rituals, and the fact that the author believes OCD to be an addiction. I was irritated to say the least.

Of course this author discussed OCD as only being the touching of door knobs, germ-a-phobia, and cleanliness of OCD sufferers. At this point I had ceased to be irritated and had moved on to becoming angry.

In this day and age to learn about illness, almost any illness, all you have to do is do a simple google search. To write a blog post without any semblance of information about the illness in which you decided to write a post on is not only ignorant and dare I say lazy, but also negligent.

It just goes to show the sheer ignorance and judgments that follow a mental illness diagnoses. It uncovers the stigma we face on a daily basis. How many times have you heard that your mental illness was something you faked, something you use an excuse, or (according to this author) not a mental illness at all but just an addiction to doing weird things?

Listen bub, an addiction means that at some point you had a choice to do something (unless you were born addicted which sadly can happen). You have a choice the first time you put a cigarette to your lips. You have a choice the first time you snort a line of coke or stick a needle in your arm. You become addicted and then it becomes less of a choice and more of a need.

I didn't just clean my house one day and just couldn't get enough. I don't have a desire to cry myself to sleep at night because my youngest had a nose bleed and my OCD makes me terrified that he has something horribly scary like Leukemia. Nor do I crave the feeling of washing my hands til they are raw and bloody because I can "feel" the germs on them even though I can see that they are perfectly clean. That isn't a need or desire. I wasn't given a choice, I was born this way.

Not every OCD sufferer has germ-a-phobia, or contamination fears. Not every OCD sufferer counts or touches things. There is literally hundreds of symptoms to this mental illness and not all of us are preoccupied with cleaning or washing our hands. I don't know how many times this has to be said but apparently it has to be said constantly because ignorance is everywhere and it spreads faster and easier than the cold hard truth.

The cold hard truth is OCD is not a choice. It was never a choice to anyone that has it because no one , NO ONE would choose this pain, this self doubt, this agony. We learn to live with it and use it to our advantage sometimes and we are proud of how far we able to overcome but we would never choose to suffer on purpose. Nor would we wish it on anyone else. That is just a silly statement not to mention an uneducated one.

I mean, no one would write a post and make up half truths about heart disease. No one would write something as uneducated and wrong as claiming heart attacks were an addiction. No one would write a post about diabetes with misrepresented symptoms and misguided attitudes. That would unacceptable to the public and yet it seems to be perfectly acceptable to write such misconceptions about mental illness. It just goes to show the differences in how physical illness is viewed vs mental illness. There is no stigma in having diabetes or heart disease. There is nothing but stigma when you suffer from mental illness.

I guess what I am trying to say is, if you are going to write a post about any mental illness, get your facts straight first. Otherwise the post is about your opinion that is based on other's opinions and only further promotes ignorance and stigma. If you do not know what you are talking about, it should be your duty to educate yourself. If you don't and you write misleading posts than you are part of the problem of stigma that we face daily and I don't think you mean to be. I just think that you are misguided and ignorant of just how mental illness works. We are not addicted to our mental illness, we suffer from it.

Neurotic Nelly

Fair Game....Rant......

I don't pay a whole lot of attention to politics. I try to, but it just irritates me and I have this no bullshit policy that I like to adhere to, which is why I do not pay attention to said politics. It's boring, confusing, and  inherently full of bullshit, much like a dairy farm. And while dairy farms may smell badly, at least you get cheese, butter, and milk from them. The cows don't lie to you while chomping on their cud and looking you in the eye and baby calves are just down right adorable...Politics....well, not so much.

That being said, I read an article talking about two men running in the same party for Texas Lieutenant Governor and I was appalled. Kind of hard to shock me when it comes to the mud slinging that elections promote but this was beyond the norm of "stirring up a shit storm" as we Texans like to say.

The current TLG David Dewhurst is being accused, or rather his people are being accused, of publicly releasing his opponent Sen. Dan Patrick's medical/court records that state thirty years ago he was so severely depressed that he had to have a stay in a psychiatric hospital in 82 and 86 and "needed sitters around the clock."

There is a backlash and of course Dewhurst's people state that they did not release this information and hide behind the fact that as court records they are already public, but let's just call a spade a spade shall we. This is sigma.....pure and simple.

You can call it mudslinging. You can call it fair game. You can put it in an oven and call it a biscuit if you so desire, but it doesn't deter from the fact that this is exactly how our country views mental illness and it's issues. With disdain, confusion, ignorance, and a heavy dose of judgement.

If Mr. Patrick had his medical records released and his records said he had diabetes instead of depression,  no one would bother writing about it or implying it is a testament to his ability to lead. No one would bat an eye that he couldn't have one of those mall chocolate chip cookies with a glass of sweet southern lemonade. But they feel perfectly fine with implying because he went through an ordeal for something mentally related and he sought help, like you are supposed to, all of a sudden he isn't a good candidate.

They are trying to infer that Mr. Patrick can't handle the stress of being in that position because thirty years ago he was having issues.....and they are getting away with it.

Now, I no longer live in Texas and I haven't for almost twelve years. I do not care who is the TLG or who wins the election. What I do care about is the blatant stigma smear that has been painted against Sen. Patrick. Not because I know him. I don't. Not because I will be affected by his policies, whatever they might be, if he wins. I will not. I care because, once mental illness is allowed to be used as a defaming character assassination in something as public as an election, it becomes a huge problem.

Mental illness is and always has been the big ugly pink elephant in the room. Many don't want to talk about it. Some want to pretend it doesn't even exist. But the fact is, it does. Mental illness is real and it has no bearing on your strength of character. It does not discriminate. It affects the poor and rich alike. It affects people of all races and backgrounds. It affects people of all religions and or lack there of. Mental illness does not discriminate who it decides to affect, but people do.

As someone who has struggled with mental illness I know exactly what is like being judged, slandered, and shamed because I have a physical illness that is inside my brain. People tend to be okay with physical illness as a whole. If you have a heart attack and go to the hospital you get visitors, friends, get well cards, and flowers. People flock to your bedside with soft spoken well wishes and support. When you end up in the mental hospital because you can't cope or have had a breakdown, it is strangely devoid of that support. No cards. No flowers. No visitors. You are seen as an embarrassment, a social pariah, a freak. You are outcast and cast aside, because you are different. It does not seem to occur to people that mental illness is a physical illness. It is just a physical illness inside your head. It is not something that you choose no more than if you chose to have a heart attack, and yet they are viewed so very very differently.

No one would be waving a flag at Sen. Patrick and be claiming that he couldn't handle the position he is vying for if he had only had a heart attack. And that is the problem.

Sen. Patrick had depression and because he got help, because he did what you are supposed to do, he is paying for it thirty years later. He is being publicly shamed because of it. He is being ostracized and judged. And no one seems to be upset over it. Well, I am upset, because what Sen. Patrick is going through has a name and we need to call it what it is. Discrimination. He is being discriminated against because he once suffered from mental illness and now it is being used to promote him as weak.

If my thirty four years of mental illness has taught me anything, it is that people that suffer from mental illness are anything but weak. The fact that he got help in a time that was even more judgmental about such things is a testament to his strength as a person. The fact that he stands there with his head held high while others judge him with their ignorance is all of the proof I need of his strong character.

I am outraged that his mental illness could be used to target him because if they are allowed to do it to him so publicly, then they are allowed to do it to the rest of us.

It is sad that in this day and age, we are still being publicly shamed and judged for mental illness. It is disgusting that we are being stigmatized on such a broad level. That we are being told that we can't and we won't because we are different. When something as simple as a google search could educate these people I can't help but outraged by such ignorance.

And since his depression seems to be such a hot topic I would like help promote the education of the ignorant by giving you a statistic.

An estimated 1 in 10 Americans report having depression....

1 in 10. And yet we act like depression is somehow unusual or rare. That it is something to look down on or misjudge. That is something that could never happen to us or someone we know. Let me ask you this....how many people do you know? Is it more than ten people? Because if it is, it is very likely that one or more of those people are suffering from depression right now.

For all I know, Sen. Patrick could be a colossal douche. He could be lying about his taxes or his political views. I don't know the man one way or the other. I am not saying you should run out and vote for him. What I am saying is that I do know he is not weak because he at one time suffered from depression. That is an 1850 mentality and this is not 1850 now is it?

I am not angry because he is the one getting blasted for having depression. I am angry because once we start to punish and villainize people with mental illness publicly we are sending a message that people who suffer from mental illness are weak and worthless. Once we allow such things as mental illness to be used as a character assassination, we will lose more people to suicide that could have been helped but did not seek it out because they were afraid of being judged and stigmatized.

This particular mudslinging should have never happened because we as American's shouldn't be looking at his depression as a character flaw. We should be as accepting of it as we would him having a physical ailment. Important but not bombshell worthy. All mental illness should be viewed as a treatable illness because it is. It is not fodder for elections or a sign of weakness.

Once we find publicly shaming mentally ill people acceptable we open a door that can never be totally closed back again. It is not acceptable and shame on you Mr. Dewhurst for supporting such vile stigma producing mudslinging.

It reminds me of a quote that speaks to the heart of any discrimination and the horror discrimination can bring.

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out--
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me--and there was no one left to speak for me.

----Martin Niemöller

I stand against discrimination of any kind and I stand against the remarks dealing specifically with Sen.Patrick's mental illness. It is not okay to shame him nor anyone else that struggles with mental illness simply because they do.

Neurotic Nelly

Ignorance......Rant

Write hard and clear about what hurts- Ernest Hemingway

I love this quote. Ernest understood writing at it's finest but he also understood mental illness. Mainly because he struggled with it and sadly he eventually lost his lifelong battle with it. I admire his honesty and I have to agree that writing should be about the taboo more painful topics as well. They are just as important as the comical oddities and the feel good stories of the day. Mainly because although all of us love to laugh and feel good, it is my belief that painful things need to be purged so they can be examined and then worked on. I find that writing about them has helped me to do that. It has helped me close open wounds and heal older scars. It has made my voice heard for the first time in thirty four years and I finally feel like the struggles I have gone through have a purpose to them. If I can't let go of them than at least maybe, they can help someone else. And while ignorance may be bliss to those it that suffer from it, it is hell on the rest of us.

 I haven't ranted in awhile. It is hard to make me mad, mostly. I am the not typical red head in that fashion. But oh my God when you do anger me it becomes a boiled over pot of pissed off and it is not pretty. I don't like to get angry. It scares me a bit. I have never been violent in my life, however when angry, the rise of emotions makes me uncomfortable.

Certain things make me angrier quicker than others. Bullying for one. Whether done on the internet or to a person's face, I become irate. As a victim of bullying for most of my life, I know how bad that affects people and I know the pain it causes. In all of my situations of being bullied I do not remember the faces of those that stood by and let it happen to me. It becomes a blur of flesh colored smears. There were many. Too many. But what I do remember is the faces of those that stood up for me and stood up for themselves. I remember those people's faces in stark clarity. They were my heroes, who I strived to be like. Not a nameless faceless coward who sat back and watched other people torment me, but someone who may not have even really liked me but knew that what was happening was wrong. And even twenty years later, I am still thankful for them. They saved me not just from the bullies but from the negative way I viewed myself. I am grateful that they were there and that they refused to be part of the humiliation and pain inflicted upon me.

As a victim I know that to stand by and say nothing makes you equally as guilty as the person inflicting the humiliation and torment. It makes no difference whether you are the one actually bullying, if you stand by and watch it happen you are an accomplice. You condone those actions. And I will never be that kind of person. Never.

Bullying as whole is a complicated issue.  Why it occurs so frequently is a mystery to most of us except that the one main component is ignorance. Just plain and simple ignorance and fear of what we don't understand.

Suffering from a mental illness puts us, the sufferers, in a hard spot. We are so afraid of being singled out, which we often times are. We are afraid of being ostracized, because we become that way. We are afraid to openly talk about what we go through because of the ever oppressive stigma that hangs over us and our diagnoses like a damp woolen coat that smells like mildew and vomit.  And it is painful.

And even when we don't tell people about our problems we often times hear others making negative comments about mental illness and it makes us less willing to openly talk about it. I mean, if you hear someone talking bad about your particular mental illness are you going to feel comfortable actually discussing that you have that diagnoses with them? Hell no.

We have mental illness, we are not stupid. We already suffer. The last thing we want is to be harassed or punished for having it.

Stigma. It is such a small word and yet it carries such a profound weight to it. It smothers us. It suffocates our progress. It shames our sense of self worth. It stifles our growth and it prevents our treatment. It keeps us sick and in many cases it promotes our suicidal population.

Make no mistake stigma kills just as surely as does the weapon we use to kill ourselves with. It is the poison that keeps us sick. And the worst part is, it doesn't have to exist at all. If people would just educate themselves.

No I am not talking about reading a few pamphlets and watching one episode of Dr. Phil. I am talking about really educating yourself. Talking to people. Gaining insight and not becoming some deranged arm chair psychiatrist full of misquoted statistics and opinionated ideals.

It angers me. When I hear people have lost their inner fight to live with mental illness because they were afraid to get help simply because of the ramifications getting help could cause. The shame they feel and the agony of having to face the people we love or respect and have to admit that no, we are not okay. It is a hard thing to do. It's hard because stigma confines how others think about us. It confines how we think about ourselves. It confines everything we say or do.

And until we stop being ignorant and judgmental we will continue to lose good people that could have gotten help but were too afraid to. And it really pisses me off, because stigma is just another form of bullying. Yet another form of ignorance.

Mental illness is looked down upon and completely misrepresented. It makes our lives harder and harder for the ones we share our lives with as well.

Today I heard some idiot, for lack of a better word, talking about how one in five people have a personality disorder.....

Really, where did you get that statistic, a the back of cereal box? Are you serious? What the hell is that? Do you even know what a personality disorder is? I am pretty sure that people with personality disorders don't have three heads and green skin so how would you know? Do you realize that they are people just like everyone else and that they have their own issues to deal with and one of them shouldn't be your crappy attitude, unbelievable amount of ignorance, and ridiculous accusations?

Or how many times have I heard about the guy that killed those soldiers in Fort Hood this last time? The guy that was trying to get help for PTSD but was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Now everyone with an anxiety disorder or depression gets the sideways glances. Like we are all closeted murderers in waiting. Thanks, like we didn't have enough problems already. Now people are afraid of us for being afraid. Awesome (sarcasm).

And if it weren't maddening enough with the media trying to come up with what mental illness is the flavor of the month that may make a person a mass killer, they keep saying how he was taking antidepressants and sleeping pills so he was being treated....

Listen, just because they throw a few pills and a diagnoses at you doesn't mean that you are being "treated". That is akin to cutting off your leg and slapping a few band-aids over the gaping wound and then wondering why you are bleeding to death. I mean you put band-aids over the problem area so in theory you are being "treated" right? The word treated isn't necessarily in question. What should be in question is the words "treated properly". You can treat diabetes with tomato soup and hot tea, it doesn't mean that it is going to  work.  It ridiculous!

Treatment is a long process. For some of us it is a life long process. Just because you get medication doesn't mean that it will work effectively. Doesn't mean that it won't react to other medications. Doesn't mean that you will wake up and everything be rosy and perfect in the morning. That is ignorance at it's finest right there on the nightly news.

Treatment requires the right diagnoses, which for some us takes many wrong diagnoses and treatments to figure out. It takes therapy and constant mindfulness of our  limitations and triggers. It takes time and effort and down right grit to deal with it on a daily basis. It takes the proper therapy and medications. It takes a lot and it is not an easy fix. And it certainly doesn't help to be constantly reminded of just how ignorant the rest of the world is on the subject.

We are not worthless.

We are not crazy.

We are not broken.

We are not evil.

We are not the demons living under your bed waiting to get you.

Somewhere, somehow over the millennium, mental illness has become a dirty word. A secret kept closed to the vest. Something to disregard and make fun of. Something in which to use as a scapegoat or a easily ready excuse. It has become synonymous with evil and bad. It has become something to be ashamed of and feel worthless about. It has become an entity other than itself. A curse. A damnation. A character flaw of the highest kind and it is all wrong.

We are not the danger. Stigma and ignorance are the danger that lurks behind the shadows. Lies and misrepresentation are the killers of people that could be helped. Shame and discrimination are the chains that bind us all.

We can not get help if we are too scared to admit there is a problem. We can not get better if we are to ashamed to seek treatment. We can not get treatment if we are not allowed to because of others incorrect ideals of what having a mental illness is.

For every mass murder you hear about on tv there are thousands of mentally ill people not being dangerous. Not harming others. Not becoming killers and yet we never hear those statistics. We never hear about the fact that we are less likely to be violent than addicts or domestic abusers. We never hear about the fact that the mentally ill are twice as more likely to be victims of violence rather than to perpetrate it.

So when I say ignorance is bliss, I don't mean for those of us that have to live in it's disfiguring shadow. It's crushing misrepresentations. It's shame.

If bullying is from ignorance than it stands to reason that stigma is also a form of bullying. It has the same result. It carries the same stench of discrimination.

So before you continue to spout degrading, incorrect, misrepresentations of what you think mental illness is like, educate yourself. Because if you don't stand up for us and say something then you are condoning the ignorance that has been allowed to be broadcast all over the world for hundreds of years. Are you going to be a hero or an accomplice? It's your choice but make no mistake it is our lives that hang in the balance and we deserve better.

Neurotic Nelly

I'm About To Rant...

I am very upset and I apologize now for the following, foul mouthed rant, but it needs to be said.

I admit it....I was ignorant. Completely unaware of what people that suffer from a learning disability such as ADHD and ADD go through. I was ignorant until a few months ago when I started to strongly suspect my oldest was suffering from ADD.

In reality, we have known he has a problem with focusing since first grade. His teacher at that time, suggested he may have it and like good parents we took him to the doctor who poo pooed on the idea. Of course our son was not hyper active so there was nothing wrong with him.

Now I should say, that my oldest is brilliant. I know that all parents feel that way about their children but in this case I have the test scores to back it up. All of his teachers have told me how intelligent he is but they have all complained of his loss of focus, bad organization, and losing his homework. It didn't seem to affect his high marks in the lower grades but last year it started to become a big deal. His grades suffered and he started feeling bad about himself. We tried helping him feel better about it. I mean, he is only a kid.

This year we tried new ways to help keep him organized and help focus. To no avail. Then after a surprise ambush by the teachers in front of my son, in which one teacher suggested his math scores were of a special ed student, I got angry. Who says that to an eleven year old? Seriously. Especially, since they could look at his testing all of the years before and knew this was not indicative of what he has scored. He lost all self esteem and started to call himself stupid.


As any parent would feel, it breaks my heart to see him hurting and worse to belittle himself. As I and my husband confronted the teachers about their behavior, the testing for ADD came back up. Instead of listening to what the original doctor said, I started to research it. And my son was the epitome of ADD. I took him to his new doctor and got the paper worked filled out by his teacher.

Friday it was confirmed. My son has ADD. Finally an answer to his struggling. I was relieved because we now have a name and if you can name your ailment you have a better chance of fighting it. We have spent hours talking to our son about how this doesn't mean that he can't achieve things, he will just have to work a little harder than other kids. How many extremely bright people have this and have made huge accomplishments. That this in no way means that he is less smart than other kids. We have spent days discussing how this isn't his fault and that he is not broken or damaged or a freak.

Fast forward to Monday. I turned in the paperwork for the program my school is supposed to put him on to help him with extra time and to learn better organizational habits. He also will be getting therapy and counseling to deal with the anxiety and low self esteem that I believe the school has created. The school with it's belittling and inappropriate comments have made my brilliant child feel dumb. And I am pissed.

The paper my son's doctor gave me was supposed to be handed to the principal. Instead, I was told to hand it to his teacher who then proceeded to take me to the special ed teacher. I was a bit confused. Why was this lady asking me a bunch of personal questions about my kid if the meeting we were supposed to have hadn't happened yet? Why was she asking me about my child if the "program" hasn't even been discussed? Why does she want to know what he struggles with and if he will be on medication or not? She isn't his teacher nor has she reviewed his case.

Then I was told the school psychiatrist would have to diagnose my son. Which is bull , the doctor already did that. I was told he would not need a "Program" that they would just switch some things around, which I did not like because he wouldn't get the extra testing time he needs. Then the special ed teacher said he would get the program but this all depended on what the psychiatrist had to say. Which again, was confusing. I am unclear on how an official diagnoses from a certified doctor can be ignored. This is the United States...right?

Then I was asked if I would place my son in the after school math tutoring program which they assured me would "fix" his problem...
....
Seriously..... Like being in the class he hates three extra days a week is going to improve his ADD that specifically is active in that class. Being taught by the same teacher he has the worst time focusing with....Yeah that makes total sense.

Then I was railroaded down the hall to the math teacher's class and the teacher that was leading me around proudly proclaimed, that yes my son would be joining the tutoring for math class.

  I was even more pissed. But I held it together because there were kids around and I didn't think it would be appropriate to yell obscenities in their presence, no matter how desperately I wanted to.

I was made promises that a teacher helper would go through my son's homework folder with him to make sure that all of his work was where it needed to be and to help him keep it organized, at least until they were able to come up with a program for my son. That was Monday, people.

Not one person has looked in this kids folder. Not one. Ever.

And the last thing that royally cheesed my cheddar, the piece de resistance as they say,  was after all of the meetings we have had before this, after the official diagnoses, after the railroading I got on Monday, the math teacher had the nerve.....the...nerve...to tell my son I needed to sign his planner because he wasn't paying enough attention in her class.
..............................
I am just going to let that sink in for a second. I have done everything right. Gotten all of the paperwork together. Turned it in. Told everyone that my son has ADD and this is what I get. Snarky remarks that are totally ridiculous.

So I checked and signed his planner and I added a little note too.

"Since my son has been officially diagnosed as having ADD and I have filed for the IEP and 504 that is understandable."

And I sat there and seethed anger because this shit is just uncalled for. Seriously. Yay, let's as adults all pick on the ADD kid and just try to knock him down just one more peg. Because he doesn't feel bad enough about his issues. Because he doesn't worry that he will get in trouble for it, he now needs an ass whole teacher getting onto him in class, shaming him, and then making it seem like I was going to be mad at him because of it. Because of what, a disorder that he can't help!!!??? Are you fucking serious!!!

And just when I thought I couldn't be anymore frustrated, annoyed, disappointed, and angry I find out today that she didn't even bother to read his planner. She wanted me to sign it to make my son feel bad but didn't care enough to check and see if I even wrote anything back.

So right then and there I made a decision. Next year my oldest is going to be home schooled. I absolutely will not allow the public school system to tear down my son's self esteem any further. I will not allow them to take my brilliant, sweet, kind, compassionate child and turn him into someone who blames himself and hates himself. Because I have been down that road and that is something I do not wish on anyone, let alone my own child.

And it got me thinking....my God, my kid can not be the only one that has had this shit happen to them. He is not the only one that has been shamed and accused of not caring. Not the only to have felt helpless and stupid not because he was but because the school was too lazy or too ignorant to know how to help him. We are not the only parents doing absolutely all that we can to help instill a positive outlook a good self esteem and manage something like ADD and ADHD and get placated and lied to. We are not the only parents frustrated, and disillusioned, and frankly down right pissed. Pissed that our kids are demeaned overlooked and are left to slip through the cracks. Good kids, that frankly, in this day and age deserve a hell of a lot better. This is 2014 not the fucking stone age and there are programs that are state demanded to be used and yet here we are, angry, sad, and hurting for our kids. It's nuts. It's damaging to our kids, and it is unacceptable.

A few months ago if asked, I would have said that kids that suffer from a learning disability didn't have it any harder than the rest of the kids. I thought there was special help for them and that all schools were willing to offer that help. I admit that I was wrong and I was completely wholly ignorant. My eyes are opened to the reality and the reality is pretty damn sad.  Kids with ADD and ADHD do have it harder. They do struggle and they are falling through the cracks of a system that has failed them in every way that counts.

I realize that now and it makes me sad. It makes me sad that I now have to try and undo the damage my son's teachers have done to his self esteem, his sense of self worth, and his belief that he can be anything he puts his mind to. And it not only saddens me, it devastates my whole belief in the public school system as a whole.


Neurotic Nelly

Update and Rant......

So, I am on the medication. The diabetes can not be controlled by diet alone at this point. I am a little upset but I am working through it. It's been kinda rough. On top of all that I am now obsessing over what I eat, carb intake...blah blah blah. I actually went to the bread isle in the store today and smelled the bread. Not  the actual loaves, although I was severely tempted, but they were baking at the bakery department and the heavenly scent permeated the air. OMG! It smelled liked toasted glorious carbiness that I am no longer "allowed" to partake in anymore. You know how many carbs are in a freaking dinner roll? Too many for my blood sugar that's how many.... Sigh.....and I love dinner rolls, and croissants, and well anything that has flour in it.

So my OCD is definitely still around acting up and being a general pain lately.  Can't say I am surprised. Nor am I thrilled to be dealing with it but what else can I do? I am afraid. I am terrified that his medicine is killing me but I am dealing with it as best as I can. I am trying to anyway, and this is why I get angry when people joke about OCD like it is funny or amusing. Does it seem like what I am going through is amusing to you?


Some people just don't get why we get so angry when others make fun of OCD or say they are so OCD because they have small quirks or like things orderly. So let me spell it out for you so there is no confusion as to why we react the way we do when confronted with people using our illness as a joke or as a excuse to be orderly.

I have a wonderful support group from my family and my friends but I know that they sometimes get tired of hearing my obsessions. Hell, I get tired of hearing my obsessions so I know how they must feel. Usually, when they are really bad I just become really quite. I look off into space and try to shut it out. I wish I could explain what is like to have constant chatter in your mind and not be able to ignore it. Like there are too many people talking at once in a tiny room  but it is ,in fact, only one really loud person that is boisterous, obnoxious, and possibly drunk. I mean how else does what it tell me to do make any sense? Surely, I am possessed by a drunk angry leprechaun with severe abandonment issues that lives solely in my brain. Only then would the crap that goes through my head make any semblance of sense.

And it is hard. Hard to live with, hard to explain, hard to quiet, hard in general just to get out of bed sometimes in the morning. Not only  is it just hard. It is also exhausting, complicated, overbearing, all encompassing, and breath takingly painful. That is why it is called a mental illness and not something comforting and cute like Organization disease. It is not about organizing or cleaning or ,God forbid, color coding your neck ties. It's not about stepping on cracks or if you dog ear pages in a book. OCD does NOT stand for ORGANIZING COMPUTER DESKS!  It stands for OBSESSIVE COMPULSIVE DISORDER! You obsess and compulse and it is a disorder!

It's about worrying until you cry yourself to sleep. It's about running your hand over a surface until it "feels" right to the point of your skin becoming raw. I't is about being afraid to eat or drink because you may have somehow accidentally poisoned it by not washing your hands long enough. It's about pulling out your hair because it "feels" different. It is about starving yourself because you are terrified to become what your mind deems as fat. It is about intrusive, horrid, unwanted sexual/violent/blasphemous images and thoughts that would bring the strongest of people to their knees begging for mercy. It is about obsessing over if you said or did something you know you did not and yet the repetitiveness of this thought has made you lose the ability to remember exactly what happened in the first place and so you doubt. You doubt that you are a good person. You doubt that you meant well. You doubt that life is happy. You doubt that the medicine is safe, or water is safe, or that anything is safe ever again. You doubt that you can live and be free and that people will accept you. You doubt that the soap is strong enough. That the counter is clean enough.That medicines are safe enough. That anyone can actually love you enough to put up with you. You doubt that you are smart. That  you are worthy. That you are magnificent. You doubt that you have anything important to say, because you doubt your sanity now as well. You doubt that diseases aren't actually out to get you. That you are ever safe and secure no matter where you are. You doubt if anyone cares about what you think or that you care what anyone else thinks. You doubt what you know to be true and what you know to be false. You doubt and doubt and doubt.  Because your mind tells you to. Because life is supposed to be rational and your mind has stopped making sense. Because you feel dirt that isn't there, see fat that isn't there, see proportions that are aren't there. You feel things and see things that no one else does and unlike other mental illnesses you are aware that it makes no sense! You are completely aware that your mind has "gone fishing" in the rational department and you have no idea why. You are perfectly in tune with the fact that washing your hands til they bleed, or touching the doorknob for the seven hundred and fifty second time, or begging God to just let you eat this one tiny bite of banana without it resulting in you catching Ebola is completely ridiculous and yet....you are unable to relieve this overwhelming feeling of dread. The shame and disgust because you swore thirty minutes ago was the last damn time you were going to wash your hands in scalding hot water, or touch that door knob more than once, or pull that last strand of hair because it calms you down. You are aware that something is wrong. You know that your brain is misfiring and you certainly don't need one more person to point it out to you. You know and the one thing you don't doubt with OCD and it's complimentary bag of crappily made party gifts is that you have OCD.....and it sucks.

So this is why we get insulted when someone nonchalantly claims to have OCD because they like to keep their pens on the left side of their desk or don't like to shake hands with strangers. It's not the same thing. It's not remotely in any way the same pain we go through. Stop saying it is. Stop acting like OCD is some exclusive club that only the "cool kids" get into. No one wants to be in this club, trust me. We would all gladly give up one night of our pain and frustration just to simply be slightly annoyed about where our pens go.

This is not a joke. It isn't funny. It isn't something we want to be a part of or do. It isn't a brownie badge we get in grade school for selling enough Girl Scout cookies. It is a devastating debilitating illness! So forgive us if we get a little ticked off when you talk about how many times you wash your hair and how OCD you must be.


Neurotic Nelly

I usually Don't Do This......Rant on Bullying

Okay I usually do not do this. I have only had three hours of sleep and I have a long arduous day ahead of me. I was trying to go back to sleep but I unfortunately read this article while getting my oldest to the bus stop and it just kept replaying in my head. I have OCD,sue me. I decided sleep was never going to come visit if I didn't get this out on paper and release the total amount of complete anger that was pumping through my veins.

The article can be found here:
http://www.foxnews.com/us/2013/11/13/mom-draws-criticism-praise-for-blog-urging-bullied-kids-to-toughen-up/?intcmp=latestnews


Apparently, a mother and blogger by the name of Stephanie Metz wrote a blog about children and bullying called," Why My Kids Are Not The Center Of My World." In it she references that children should "toughen up" about bullying......She shared the post on facebook and it snowballed to a huge number of readers. Congrats, I think. She is receiving criticism as well as praise but my issue isn't just with her, it is with the whole article.

Just to be clear her children are four and two. 

Just to be clear on Mrs. Metz's attitude about bullying and parenting, all of her knowledge comes from the knowledge of a young parent raising young children. Her kids are four and two. Unless Pre K has gotten "harder" and more cut throat then when my children were that young, then I can't see why we are all running to take advice from someone who has no idea what children going through bullying is remotely like.  That is of course, assuming that there isn't a rash of pull up wearing thugs pushing  toddlers off the swing set while waving around juice boxes in a threatening manner.

Having a child that young of age does not make you a bad or a good mother. It makes you an inexperienced one. It is silly to rush out and believe what a  young parent is spouting off about, simply because they are a new parent and they think they have discovered some new found knowledge. Come back to me when your kid is over the age of ten and then we can talk about teenagers and bullying and reminisce when our children acted more like children and less like us. In short Mrs. Metz you have no idea what parenting a child that has gone through bullying is like and therefore your opinion, it's a free country so you are allowed to have one, is invalid and highly disappointing. With quotes like"I feel we are creating a generation of victims" how could I not be disappointed? I personally feel like we may be creating a generation of self indulgent, ungrateful, selfish, bullies with no self control or compassion ...but maybe that is just me.....because of comments like what you just said.

We will get back to you in a second. My other main gripe is that the article then goes onto a so called expert of bullying who I sincerely hope they misquoted. I mean how else could someone who is an "expert" leave such golden little gems as:

"I've coached those kids who are over-parented and you kind of want to give them a T-shirt that says `does not play well with others,"' said Coughlin, who's also a soccer coach. "It does make for some fragile children when we over-parent."

and

"This over-parenting also is almost a perfect storm for creating serial targets," he said. "Over-parented children are more likely to be serial targets than non-over-parented children."

Yes, because it couldn't simply be that some kids are just assholes. No, it is always the victims fault and also the victim's parent's fault for not being cool enough or for having parents that actually pay attention to their child's needs rather than ignore and neglect them like some parents do. Pissed off yet, Yes I sure am. As someone who was severely bullied I take high insult to such ridiculous beliefs. Hell, if I would have known that all I needed to do to not get beaten or laughed at was to just not have a great relationship with my mother then I could have saved myself years of being tormented. Obviously it was all my mother's fault for loving me and not the fault of the bully's parents for not giving them the tools to have a decent self esteem and healthy communication skills. Wow, I had no idea.

You know, because victims aren't victimized enough we must all make sure they know it is their fault for not being like everyone else, for being weak, for being good caring people. This cannot continue we must make sure that they know that the fact other kids take their things, call them names, stalk them on the internet, and push them is their fault,. What a load of bullshit!!!

Here is a couple of facts about bullying I think would be pertinent to know:

http://www.bullyingstatistics.org/content/bullying-and-suicide.html

Suicide is the third leading cause of death among young people, resulting in about 4,400 deaths per year, according to the CDC. For every suicide among young people, there are at least 100 suicide attempts. Over 14 percent of high school students have considered suicide, and almost 7 percent have attempted it.


Bully victims are between 2 to 9 times more likely to consider suicide than non-victims, according to studies by Yale University


A study in Britain found that at least half of suicides among young people are related to bullying


10 to 14 year old girls may be at even higher risk for suicide, according to the study above


According to statistics reported by ABC News, nearly 30 percent of students are either bullies or victims of bullying, and 160,000 kids stay home from school every day because of fear of bullying

But your are absolutely right, Mr. Coughlin and Mrs. Metz they just need to toughen up about it. It isn't like it is a life and death struggle to deal with bullies on a daily basis, right?

I would like Mrs. Metz and Mr. Coughlin to realize the severity of their statements and in doing so I would like them to sit across from the parents of the seven year old who hung himself because of bullying, the fourteen year old who did the same after bullying on her facebook, or the twelve year old that through herself off of an abandoned cement platform to her death because her tormentors told her to kill herself over and over again. I would like them to sit across from them and all of the not as widely reported parents of children that committed suicide due to bullying and look them in the eye. I would like them to look them in the eye and tell them their kids needed to just "toughen up" and not be "a generation of victims." I would like them to tell the parents that no longer can go home to hug their children, that it was their fault because they cared too deeply or parented too much. Not the fault of those that knowingly abused and tormented their children because they have crappy parents or terrible lives. Not the fault of the people that ignore the abuse and bullying and sweep it under the rug because they are too lazy, indifferent, or believe the way that you do. Not the fault of anyone else but the people that now have a vacant, empty, gaping hole that can never be filled ever again because their children are gone for no other reason but some punks wanted to have fun and hurt innocent undeserving children. When you can sit there and do that then I will consider reading your advice or even bother listening to your ridiculous tripe you call an opinion. Come back to me after your kid has been bullied to the point he is depressed then we can talk. Otherwise do the world a favor and don't open your mouth about something you have not had to deal with yet ( and truly hope you never do and never have to know what the pain of the parent is like when it happens to your child). They may not be the center of your world, but my children are the center of mine and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Neurotic Nelly

What is Ocd?

What is life like with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? Glad you asked. There have been several "funny" signs and  amusing memes about OCD that I have run across. Things like Obsessive Coffee Disorder or Obsessive Cat Disorder... Maybe I am overtly sensitive but these signs really irk me.

Ocd is so much more than being a clean freak or organizing the closet. It is hoarding, cleaning, being a germ-a-phobe, phobias, fears, guilt. It is crying in the corner and rocking back in forth. Convincing yourself that you have a deadly disorder then googling the symptoms. Then after googling the symptoms you convince yourself you have three other disorders as well. It is worry, desperation, and disgust. It is unwanted intrusive thoughts that are violent, sexual, or blasphemous in nature. It is washing your hands till they bleed or touching the door knob until it "feels" right. It is feeling worthless and ridiculous. It is trichotilliomania and body dysmorphic disorder. It is anxiety and panic attacks. It is being afraid of contamination. It is Tourette's syndrome. It is avoiding situations that make you feel out of control or uncomfortable. So much so that you can loose years of your life avoiding things that could make you happy or avoiding loved ones. It is being afraid to admit that you are in a constant battle with your mind. It is fear of judgment and rejection. It is bulimia and anorexia. It is your mind telling you that you like something that you don't or you did something you know you have not. It is counting steps and cracks in the pavement. It is being obsessed with a number or everything has to be even. It is Checking to see if you locked your door for the sixth time and knowing that you will have to check just one more time, even though you can clearly see that the latch is locked. It is time consuming exhaustion. It is having the need to confess. Confess everything that you have done or said because maybe,just maybe you might have done or said something wrong and you need to be absolved. It is feeling like you are a bad person. It is anger and frustration. It is being terrified to speak out because you are terrified that you are crazy and no one will understand.  It is self judgement and self rejection. It is pain and hell and everything in between. It is not a joke or about how much you like coffee or cats. It is not a term to be thrown around because you like to have your desk tidy. It is a real mental illness and it sucks.  No one wants to admit that we have these issues. No one wants to say that they have intrusive thoughts. It is scary and we try so hard to appear normal. I have them and so do many others. We don't like to talk about our OCD because unlike some other illness we are perfectly aware that what we do is abnormal. We know it looks or sounds crazy.  No one likes to feel out of control or nuts. We know that it is a problem. 

I have been told that I am brave. I don't know how true that is. Truth is, I am terrified.  I am terrified every time I write something because I am knowingly opening myself up for rejection and negative judgment. I do this because  know there are others out there like me. If just one of  my posts are able to make them feel less lost or alone then it is worth it. I can take it. It is not as if I have not heard all of the negative comments before. In fact I have said them to myself many times before I got healthier.  There are many faucets to OCD. [tweet this].
These are just some of them. Many of us have several symptoms and not just one or the other. So this is what is like to have OCD. This is what it is like to live with it. Does that seem funny or amusing to you?

                                                     Neurotic Nelly

Rant, Rant, Rant

In the last few years a couple of really good movies about mental illness have been successful  They had all the things in them that made them interesting. They were a love story of sorts. I really appreciate the awareness and those that made these movies great. A Beautiful Mind was about schizophrenia. Silver Linings Playbook is about Bi-Polar. I haven't gotten to see the Silver Linings one yet so don't tell me how it ends...
As Good As It Gets was a brilliant movie about OCD. I always liked the t.v. show Monk as well. Both of these has put OCD more in the fore front than it has been before and yet I am dissatisfied. It seems that OCD is viewed as funny and stereotyped. If you were someone that had never come across a person with OCD you might make some generalizations just from these two shows. I would like to take a minute to enlighten you If you permit me.

 Not everyone with OCD is a clean freak. Hoarders are also sufferers of OCD.
Not everyone with OCD have a fear of germs. Every fear or phobia is specific and just as people are different their fears are different. Many of us are clean freaks and germ-a-phobes but there are a lot of people with OCD that are not.
For some reason with the exception of the OCD t.v. series the mentally ill are played by male actors. Mommy Dearest was about Joan Crawford and is so far the only female role that I have found about OCD. She was quite harsh and I am fairly certain she had much more than just OCD.

So the generalizations we are left with are that only older men in their fifties have this disorder. That we are rigid and angry people. That we can not communicate efficiently with others. That we are all clean freaks and are terrified of germs. That we are hateful and resentful. That we are terrified of everything in our environment  That we are to be laughed at. That we can not have real relationships. That we are damaged and sad. That we can't be beautiful or sexy.  That we can not have beautiful romantic love stories written about us.That we are old curmudgeons shuffling around. That people with OCD are violent (American Psycho) or abusive (Mommy Dearest). That we are incapable of living full and happy lives. That we don't deserve to have more realistic movies written about us because it is not sell able or interesting.

This is not accurate at all. OCD people are most often kind and extra sensitive. We worry about not being accepted and loved. All of us have OCD traits but we have different personalities. Some are more pessimistic and some of us are optimistic. We are all different and should be represented in that fashion. Frankly, we deserve better and more accurate depictions.
I would like a movie with a beautiful actress like Jennifer Aniston playing a real depiction of OCD. Instead of being afraid of something small like outdated milk she could have real phobias. That would be nice. Yes the milk the thing is funny but not all of our phobias are. They are real and they are terrifying  We laugh at some of our issues but it is not all fun and games. OCD is a debilitating mental illness. Her love interest could be some one like Gerard Butler. They could be in a diner and she could say" I have intrusive thoughts. I am so terrified of the images and voice in my head that I have hidden all the knives in my house and I only cut things when the house is empty just to avoid the fear. I am not violent but I am afraid I will stab someone."

Gerard,"That's ok. We can just order out all the time."

Jennifer," I am afraid to take elevators. They make me feel like I am suffocating.I have anxiety attacks in them"

Gerard," No problem. We can always take the stairs."

Jennifer," I pull out my own hair until I have bald patches and I can't stop or I pick my skin till it bleeds. I have scars.'

Gerard," You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Jennifer,"I had to give up driving. Every few blocks I have this terrifying fear that I have hit someone. I know I have not but the doubt and fear is so real I have to get out and check.'

Gerard," I would happily drive you anywhere you need to go."


Jennifer," I touch things several times until it feels right and it makes me late all of the time. My friends are embarrassed to be seen with me but I can not stop the urge."

Gerard," I don't care, I love you."

Jennifer," I know I have a lot of issues, but I promise you that no one will love you as much as I do. No one will ever be as loyal or good to you as me. Because I care on levels most aren't capable of."

Then they could pan to her room when the stress has gotten to her and they could show what it's really like for us. They could show him holding her as she rocks back and forth crying the corner. They could show how she feels like a failure and how she is devastated. How she is terrified of having children because she could pass it on to them.They could also show her being productive with her life. They could show the ups and downs of finding medications that work. They could show the terrible side affects that come with these trials. They could show how she goes to a therapist and gets help. Because that is much more accurate than being afraid of milk or stepping on a crack in the pavement. Because OCD is not a joke. Because OCD is much more than an hour long movie played by a cranky middle age man who hates dogs or likes cleanliness.

Hollywood if you are going to crack open the door of mental illness then lets be real for change. Let's break open the door frame and release the truth of mental illness.  Let's represent how it really is for people that have OCD. Don't sugar coat it. Don't make it your personal joke. Don't make us all men living alone in a dank apartment or house. Show us as beautiful men and women because that is what we are. We are not just crazy lunatics locked in the attic. We are everyone. We are many. We are  contributing to our communities and taking part in our own lives. Show our humor but also show our pain. Show our  capacity to love and learn. Show how we overcome our difficulties. Show us as real identifiable people. We are not Jack Nicholson. We are not Faye Dunaway or Christian Bale. We are strong and we are loyal and loving. We are just like you. Represent us fully and see how many of us come out of the shadows and stand up and say I have OCD. Help the world to really understand us. Help us to accept our own illness and for once not be ashamed.
                                    Neurotic Nelly