Millennials get a lot of hate, don’t they? I mean, I’m sure all “younger generations” have been moaned about by the “older generations” since time began, but we’ve got the internet now, and that hate and disrespect is more prominent than its ever been. I wanted to talk about this during Mental Health Awareness Week because this topic in all its complexities is, and always had been, one of the most angst-inducing issues I face on a daily basis. Continue reading
So today marks the beginning of Mental Health Awareness Week, and I know if you read this blog you’ll know Mental Health Awareness is something that is close to my heart because I struggle with depression and anxiety. I wanted, for this first post, to write something profound and meaningful. However it’s been a stupidly long day, and I forgot it started today, and as such you get this. This sorry tale of me being stupid, and my prescription getting all kinds of fucked up.
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It took me a long time to be open at work about my depression. You see, back in the day when I was doing a DCE at college there was a solid rule: If you are on medication for depression, you couldn’t do your practical childcare placements. Somehow it was fine to be out of treatment and depressed, but not so much if you were in treatment. The second you started taking medication, you couldn’t work with the children. I kept my medication quiet at that time, although I only took the medication for a few months, and that mentality stuck with me.
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Have you ever had a book on your to-read shelf for absolute yonks, and you’ve really been wanting to read it but just never got round to it? And then one day you finally decide today’s the day and pick it up, only to realize it had been fate calling you this particular day, because you were meant to read this now. At this particular time of your life, on this exact Sunday when you’ve actually got the time to devour at least half of it on your day off. That’s how I felt about The Art of Asking, and what I think that people of my generation or in similar circumstances to mine will also feel if they were to pick it up. Continue reading
I don’t know why I expected a book about autism to be an easy read. Maybe because I know a lot about mental illness, I consider myself quite well-informed and have read lots of these kinds of books in the past. However this one was a little bit of a struggle. Not because of the depiction of severe autism, not even because of the writing style (though the Lego sentences with bricks of prose jutting out from one another incapable of seamless blending, plus the semi-epistolary nature of the novel did not earn the book any points). It was because of my conflicted and very strong feelings about the story and its characters; unrelenting and contradicting opinions haunted me for 368 pages and it was not fun. Continue reading