13 Reasons Why is everywhere, and I am still seeing people argue with school boards, mental health associations and suicide awareness centres over whether or not the show is *good*. No one claims it is not a good television series. It is also, however, socially irresponsible.
HEY YOU: If you are having thoughts of suicide or are making plans to end your life, please call 1 (800) 273-TALK – or visit this website to chat online with someone who really can make things better: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org (US and Canada). I know they can help because I’ve called them before.
Everyone I know who has watched the hugely popular Netflix series 13 Reasons Why has been absorbed (and obsessed) with its intense storyline about a high school student who commits suicide and leaves behind 13 cassette tapes detailing how her life slid so far downhill.
Each tape names one of her tormentors and explains what they did to screw up her life.
LONDON, ON – In a shocking revelation, we learned today that LHSC is treating suicidal patients as if their lives are worth something.
“They removed anything I could use to kill myself,” one patient said. “I came here because I wanted to hurt myself, and they wouldn’t even let me try!”
Suicidal patients who were still visibly breathing shared how badly they were mistreated by hospital staff, describing the safe rooms in which they were kept, and the obscene lack of privacy as medically-trained professionals monitored their behaviour – removing their right to execute their plans to harm themselves. Continue reading “Exposé Reveals Local Hospital Saving Lives”
This post contains content that may affect even mildly sensitive people. If you are upset, depressed, or thinking of harming yourself in any way, please look here: http://suicideprevention.ca/need-help/ . Or call 800-273-TALK.
Mom warning: you will not enjoy this post. It is very suicidey (which is now a word). You will read things you cannot unread and that you will think about for a while. Seriously.
But I have committed to shedding light on what having Bipolar I Disorder feels like from the inside, so I’m addressing something very few people will talk to you about.
My entire family just returned from a fantastic trip to a 5* resort in Mexico, where our every whim was catered to, no request was too outrageous, and no buffet was shown a shred of mercy. Twenty of any family would be loud and boisterous. This twenty of my family knows a lot about decibels and how to raise them, uncontrollable belly laughs and how to solicit them, and what it feels like to be part of a clan.
Being around them in large doses has always triggered my anxiety. So does flying. I’ve spent the last month working with the doctor and therapist on coping skills, including carrying around a bottle of sedatives to be taken four times a day. Or sometimes, four times an hour. Whatever gets ya through, right? Continue reading “My 7-Day, Mexican, All-Inclusive, 5-day Vacation”
AJ Lee means nothing to me. I’m not a fan of melodramatic violence as entertainment, so I’ve never encountered her image or name before. But she does have a book coming out (Crazy is my Superpower, coincidentally). It is the story of her life from her perspective: she is bipolar. Not has, is.
These are words from her blog post announcing the arrival of her sure fire bestseller:
One recent afternoon, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when a headline caught my eye. The summary indicated that the TV show Homeland should stop romanticizing the main character’s bipolar disorder, or treating it like some kind of superpower.
(There will more on Homeland, bipolar disorder and finding ignorance everywhere in my upcoming first podcast!)
I’d like to respectfully disagree with that opinion. I don’t watch the show, but I’ve read about its depiction of bipolar disorder. The fact is, I don’t know what defines the bipolar experience.
I used to believe that the phrase “accidental overdose” was used to protect families when someone commits suicide. Turns out, it’s really pretty easy. I’ve done it. Twice. It’s why I decided to approach my illness as a scientist, not a victim.
I could not sleep.
It had been days.
In the four years since my depression diagnosis, I’d been on dozens of medications. And still I was spiralling out of control. I had no idea that my affliction was actually bipolar disorder, and that most of the drugs I’d been taking were making things worse. Much, much worse.
I sat on the sofa in the front room, typing frantically to my online support group. The doctor had told me that the new medication would help me sleep. So, after three days without sleep, I took an extra dose. Two hours later, I took another dose. I became more and more wired. I took another dose, and waited to be knocked into oblivion. Continue reading “Firecrackers and Accidental Overdoses”
You’ve had one, ergo you can empathize with the other. Let me explain how that works…
Being very sad is like falling into the shallow end of the pool. It sucks. It’s cold, it’s wet, it’s squishy, and you’re going to be bitchy about it for a while. You may have to toss your new shoes, and that will leave you frustrated and disappointed. Your phone is probably screwed, and it’s going to be pretty damn inconvenient until you can afford to replace it. But things will dry, you’ll get new shoes, and you’ll carry on.