Every now and then, I have an idea for a really insightful blog. You know, the kind that explores some uncharted territory, makes long-winded statements… all that jazz. The problem is that I never write my ideas down anymore, so whenever I feel like writing a blog it just turns into a rant. I think this rant means a lot to me, so enjoy.
Disclaimer: I am not peddling any beliefs on those who read this. This post is merely a recollection of thoughts, ideas, and insecurities I have had with a touch of humour and a side of feelings.
The first thing that bothers me is giving into peer pressure. I hate how the older I get, the more I give into situations that make me feel uncomfortable. You know that feeling? Like you’ve turned your back against what you thought made you awesome?
For instance, I hate how people seem almost uncomfortable with people who do don’t want to partake in drinking alcohol. Whenever my friends would invite me out for drinks, I would straight up refuse as if I were protesting dying whales. The reason why I don’t have a positive view towards it is because I grew up in a difficult household where alcoholism was an issue. To see young people get into it so they can “fit in” genuinely bothers me. I’ve been to parties where people act “drunk and stupid” so they can “let loose”. If I’m not some wild mess after several drinks, I’m pretty sure y’all are faking it. Technically, I am a hypocrite; as I’ve enjoyed it in the past. I’m at this weird place where I don’t know what it all means anymore. *Cue the jaded, I’m so tortured violin piece.* I don’t know if I partake it in because I really want to or if I just want to fit in, and not knowing why bothers me a lot.
I hate how I’m afraid to speak out on my struggle with mental illness. For as long as I can remember, I have dealt with often crippling bouts of anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder. I’ve been through the lowest of lows – been to what is jokingly called “rehab”, struggled with medication, and couldn’t leave my house or complete everyday tasks because I was crying (understatement) over minute things like a scratch or germ. I have pushed people away in my life and others have shut me out of theirs. What bothers me is that there isn’t really an open discussion about mental illness. There are “media campaigns” about it, but it doesn’t change much for the millions of people who struggle with it on a daily basis. It doesn’t change the way the important people in their lives should be treating them. It’s mind-blowing how people will openly talk about their drunken escapades, but not utter a word about how they feel depressed, anxious, etc.
Every time I hear the words “crazy” or “mental”, it brings a lot of difficult memories back. Growing up with a brother with autism, I was completely guilty of using those words too. I thought what I was going through was completely different and more “normal” than what he was going through. The older I get, the more I realize that how I treated my brother growing up is no different than the way some people have treated me. Unfortunately, when you’re at your lowest, you start to believe those words and actions. Eventually, it becomes a vicious cycle of self-deprecation.
For over a year, I’ve been looking for something “meaningful” to do – something I can invest my talents and beliefs in. I want to do anything to help improve mental health. There are so many people like me bottling up their issues and too afraid to do anything about it (especially on their own terms). And so begins the research and development for my passion project… which of course will be open-source 🙂