It is difficult to write about any form of mental disease, especially your own, without sounding as if you were examining a bug under glass.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Only the emerging specialty of psychoanalysis seemed to understand that mental maladies are not fully analogous to physical disease. They resist classification, and might better be known by their symptoms and the individualized sufferings of patients than by assigned names.
Once you're labeled as mentally ill, and that's in your medical notes, then anything you say can be discounted as an artefact of your mental illness.
No further evidence is needed to show that 'mental illness' is not the name of a biological condition whose nature awaits to be elucidated, but is the name of a concept whose purpose is to obscure the obvious.
Mental illness, of course, is not literally a 'thing' - or physical object - and hence it can 'exist' only in the same sort of way in which other theoretical concepts exist.
An illness is like a journey into a far country; it sifts all one's experience and removes it to a point so remote that it appears like a vision.
Mental illness can happen to anybody. You can be a dustman, a politician, a Tesco worker... anyone. It could be your dad, your brother or your aunt.
Any other illness, any other disease that we're faced with, there's sympathy and understanding. We get help for those. With mental illness, our go-to is to categorize them as, 'Oh, they're crazy,' to belittle the problem.
Disease is an experience of a so-called mortal mind. It is fear made manifest on the body.
In a disordered mind, as in a disordered body, soundness of health is impossible.
Words can make the illness a subject I can master, and not one that one simply emotes over.
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