I was moved by the speech Wil Wheaton posted on his blog, My name is Wil Wheaton. I live with chronic Depression, and I am not ashamed.
My name is Wil Wheaton. I live with chronic Depression, and I am not ashamed.
I’m lucky because I don’t have any mental illness that I know of. But ever so slowly I’m learning more about it. People I know casually on Twitter have it. People I know casually on Google+ have it. And I suspect a whole lot more people in my life might have it without me knowing it. And that’s fine, too. Nobody has to tell anybody anything. But if you suffer from mental illness and haven’t spoken to anybody about it, please let people help you.
I might not know how to handle handle the situation or what to say, but we’ll make it through the awkwardness and we’ll make it better, and I will learn a thing or two, and things will be better. And perhaps one day all the people growing up will know what to do and what to say.
#Depression
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Thanks for linking! I didn’t know about Will Wheaton’s post.
I think some mental illnesses aren’t black and white (either you have it or not), but a continuum: people have fears and insecurities, and everyone is assaulted by them at some point - only, it happens more often to some, and some are less able to deal with them, for whatever reason. I struggle with panic attacks sometimes, though far less devastating than what WW tells.
Additionally, I don’t think one should be afraid to say that mental illness is a weakness. After all, I would argue that accepting one is mentally ill is as hard as accepting one is weak. Society exists specifically to let one be weak where others are strong, and be better as a whole. Speaking openly about our weaknesses and letting people in are integral parts to overcoming those weaknesses.
– Enzo 2018-05-09 18:23 UTC
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I totally agree on the continuum: I think that’s how empathy works. From our own headaches we try to extrapolate to migraine; from our own stage fright and fear of exams we try to extrapolate to anxiety attacks; from our own melancholy and listlessness on dreary days in autumn we extrapolate to depression. We think to ourselves, it must be be bit like *this* – but a thousand times worse! And perhaps that’s how it is, or perhaps it’s impossible to know how it feels without experiencing the real thing, but the important part is that it provides us with empathy: the ability to relate, to look out for each other.
– Alex Schroeder 2018-05-09 18:36 UTC