If You can Banter or Laugh, then you cannot be mentally ill

Or…so I am told.

Which means every one of us in the mental health blogosphere are “faking” our illness.

Bull

Shit!!!!

There are times our banter and sarcastic humor are the ONLY things that help keep us afloat. Humor is sort of the “lifesaver” of depression. Maybe we don’t feel mirthful or laugh out loud, literally, but I think every one of us all appreciates and celebrates the therapeutic benefits of “humor” and “banter”. Dark as we may be…The banter, that connection to others who know why we are so dark, is as good as any pill.

Am I saying quit your meds and just try to swap sarcastic snarks with others?

Hell to the no!

I am, however, saying…We may be mood swing-y, we may be depressed, but the ability to use humor does NOT make us “cured”. It is simply one more tool in the arsenal against the bipolar and anxiety that oppresses us.

Such a shame the professionals and mundanes cannot grasp this fact.

I often ponder how the mundanes would feel if they had ONE good stable mental day a month. I doubt they’d be so quick to judge. I bet they would feel as frustrated as we do. I bet they’d even treasure the inane banter that amounts to nothing in the big picture and yet means so very much to us in our dark place alone.

It took everything I had to venture into the dish today. Even things I know how to do and usually find simplistic became insurmountable tasks. The noise, people, sunlight- it all ignited my anxiety like throwing a match on a gasoline soaked sofa…Even the simple act of sitting in a busy drive thru to  get lunch had me recording my panic on my phone. I tried to tell R that I could function faster at home where my mind was clear,to no avail.If your friends won’t listen and take you seriously…praying an employer will is lunacy. To say I felt anxious and deflated is an understatement.

Then Mrs R called him and asked to talk to me. She invited me and Spook over tonight for pizza. After a month of declining invites, I said ok.

Then I spent nearly four hours clock watching. Not because I was looking forward to the outing. Noo. I was looking forward to just getting it over.

Not because it was so awful, we had a good time.

It’s just the anxiety with which I respond to all impending outings,  be it court, helping R, going to someone’s for a meal…I battle it. It makes no difference.

I mean, if it were simple anxiety, it wouldn’t be deemed an “anxiety disorder”.

We went, we enjoyed pizza, I had a glass of wine, then we left,  before 8 p.m. I begged off saying I don’t like driving after dark.

It’s true.

Mostly I wanted my bubble.

Pathetic yet the raw truth.

So…if you like/love/care/laugh at me…Banter with me.

It’s a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy and a hell of a lot more useful.

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27 Responses to “If You can Banter or Laugh, then you cannot be mentally ill”

  1. It’s like trying to build a suspension bridge with twine and popsicle sticks to bridge the gap between “real” and “imagined”. Impossible. Healthcare employers are the worst-a schedule made our for the entire month, and if you want any days off for the NEXT month it must be in by the 7th and you aren’t even guaranteed your time off so appointments and meetings must be done on days off or before or after your shift. They give no fucks about mental health days and if you call in….You’ll feel the wrath of your “fellow” employees the next day. FUCKTHATSHIT, yo.
    On to greater things! Like attempting to sleep in “bed” which is a metal bed frame with nothing but feather blankets and a busted sofa bed air mattress. Boy, we are really making up our illnesses when we can’t even afford simple every day comforts like a fucking bed because we have a fixed and/or limited to zero income, and we would rather our kids sleep better than we do. Unlike the McMuggles and Mundanes ®© who take it all for fucking granted…. My head hurts from all of the idiocy that abounds these days, as well as inconsideration and stupidity. Seems the smarter technology gets and advances, we seem to be moving BACKWARDS in evolution. I think the cavemen were actually smarter THEN than we are NOW. Sad, but true.

  2. Mmm. Humor is a great defense against the darkness. It doesn’t say ‘I’ve won’ or ‘I’m well now’. It says ‘I’m fighting this’. Tell anyone who thinks differently to google comedians who suffer from mental illness, or comedians who’ve killed themselves. I’m sure at least a few of those names will be recognized.

    Brava for braving the whole dinner thing. That’s got to be a double whammy; not just going into public, but dealing with R and Mrs. R. ❤

  3. I’m constantly considering what my therapist calls “exit strategies”. I call them excuses, but she always has much nicer ways to put things, so I’ll go with hers! 😉 I go nowhere unless I have a plan in place for leaving early or skipping altogether. And then, go from there. Sometimes, it’s easier for me to spend a decent amount of time somewhere if I’ve already been upfront about why I may need to leave early. I know that people know I’m full of shit most of the time, but I don’t care.

    Why did the Superhero flush the toilet?

    Because it was his doody.

    heh.

    • Cute joke.
      I’m like a hitman. Always looking for exit strategies, ways of not getting boxed in, back to the wall so no one can sneak up on me, hyper vigilant.
      Paranoia isn’t a bad thing if it comforts you from feeling trapped.

      • Back to the wall ALWAYS! Can’t have someone sneaking up on me ever. I’m so jumpy it’s ridiculous

      • I am also OCD about what side of the bed I sleep on when sharing a bed with spouses/etc. I have to be closest to the door. It’s almost pathological and yet it’s the only way I can sleep without feeling scared.

        On Sat, Jan 30, 2016 at 10:20 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

        >

      • Quickest escape route?

      • Hells yeah. Even when the donor and I lived at my mom’s, our bed was in a corner against a wall…And my neurotic ass made him sleep by the wall even though if he woke to go to the bathroom or whatever he’d have to climb over me and wake me….
        I. Cannot. Be. Boxed. In.
        There’s a safe bubble and then there’s “holy shit, I am locked in the Buffalo Bill hole in Silence of the Lambs being told to rub the lotion on my skin.”
        Nooooope.

      • Does Spook conform when she come in at night?

      • Yeppers, I have trained her well. I’ve even gotten her to where she will stand in my doorway and wake me quietly rather than stampede in at full blast.
        To make up for my neuroses I generally do “snuggle buggle” when she climbs in bed, telling her I am cold and gonna steal all her warmth…It makes her giggle and I feel less freakish for “training” her not to trigger my issues.
        Ack, my kingdom for a brain that behaves.

      • Yeah I hear that!

        All you are doing is teaching her to be polite, which will take her far

  4. As my BFFFFF says of me — if I am unable to crack a joke, then I am in a very dangerous place. Hell, cracked jokes all the way through labour, and we all know what a laugh riot that is.

    But like, seriously. I saw someone in my local Farcebook group (bless you for that neologism <3) whining about all the fakers in A&E because they were laughing! And talking! And joking! They *obviously* didn't need to be there. Still surprised I've not gone back, found this woman, and punched her in the face.

  5. I used to have a sense of humor. Now I mostly stare at things in wide-eyed seriousness. I don’t know if it’s that I’ve lost my sense of humor or whether everything’s just less funny these days. Probably a bit of both. I need to find a sense of humour and lightheartedness again … I think it does help but only relative to where you are to start with.

    • I don’t laugh like I did when I was manic all those years (misdiagnosed, wrong meds). And you have a point, cos as we get older and take on more responsible and watch the world and its atrocities go on around us…There is less to truly laugh about. I still try to utilize my macabre sarcastic humor when I can. Some days it works and some days..Fort Blankie has a no laughs policy.

      On Sat, Jan 30, 2016 at 11:00 AM, Take a Ride on My Mood Swing wrote:

      >

  6. Simple anxiety still sounds like way to much for me. My agoraphobia is so bad I need a pep talk everytime I leave the apartment to go get the mail.
    But I agree. Laughter is the best medicine because there are no side effects!

    • Sometimes, my panxiety is so bad that I will avoid the mail box for a week straight unless expecting something positive.
      I admit it with no pride. It just is what it is and has been for over ten years now. I am terrified of the mail box, the phone, the news…

  7. well of course this is all true, isn’t it? all we have to do is just cure ourselves. if only i knew it was that easy years ago. sarcasm, banter, banter, joke, joke, laugh… yay I’m cured. wait. why do I still feel like someone ran me over with an F350 and for some stupid reason missed the brain functions that keep me alive and let the voices keep going in my head and left all my vital organs working mostly ok and then jumped out of the cab and yelled at me because it was my fault I got in the way of their fender and crawled under the tires on purpose? I mean, I could have hurt the precious truck!

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