Overcoming Mental Illness

It is Mental Health Action Week, to which the theme is anger. The Mental Health Foundation are holding various RANTfests in workplaces and organisations around the country - this is my own RANTfest, one rant a day for the duration of the week.

Every (non spamming) comment received on this blog between 23-29 March will see 50p (or even more, depending on it’s quality) donated to the Action Week Appeal. 

Rant #1: Sexism

This is something that really gets on my tits!

I was reading blog posts the other night, as I do, given the fact that I have nothing else to do on a Friday evening due to my anxiety/illness crushed existence and after reading one I very very very nearly wanted to launch the computer I was using across the room to smash those pixellated words into a thousand tiny fractured pieces.

What is it these days that most people think sexism only works in one direction - i.e. men being derogatory to women?

What is it that makes it that being derogatory to men isn’t considered sexism, but mere playful banter?

This article I was reading was about adultery, the having of an affair in a relationship, and throughout the entire article did it ever - not once - period - mention the fact that women also have affairs. That women also cheat on their partners.

Once again I was reading an article about how evil and misguided men are whilst surreptitiously painting women as the personification of perfection of Eve’s ovaries.

It’s the same as when I’m surfing for articles on abuse, trying to find ways to overcome the PTSD, panic, flashbacks and anxiety which I suffer as a result of the malicious emotional abuse I was subjected to for several months; all I can find are articles about how this man abused this women, how this man attacked this woman, how this woman is finding it hard overcoming the abuse they were the victim of from the general evilness of man.

Don’t people realise that men can be victims too?

A man?

A victim?

What?

Weak little amoeba!

How can we be attracted to a man who cries?

(How can a man be attracted to a woman who cries?)

In today’s society men are painted, labelled, and shunned as weak if they openly admit to something being wrong. If they admit to an illness, if they admit to abuse, if they show their emotions in any way (crying, trembling, shaking, talking, opening up) they are seen as not a man, they are seen as un-manly.

Whereas if a woman does the exact same thing they are seen to be strong, in touch with their emotions, able to communicate, brave, strong, inspirational.

It can be seen all over the web, all over the newspapers, all over the world, in every street, cul-de-sac, high rise, low-rise, beach house, town house, out house and chicken house.

It’s a pretty standard fact that men, from an early age, are encouraged to not talk about their emotions, from their early more formative years men are pretty much ordered to never open up or share what they are feeling because of the shame attached to being ‘unmanly’.

(What the hell is unmanly anyway?)

All through life we have to pretend nothing is wrong, that we are able to always deal with our problems withour ever seeking help, assistance or - god forbid - comfort from those women in our lives. As soon as we try to share our emotions we are mocked, ridiculed and shunned.

Yet, in utter contradiction, all over the world, in thousands of self help books, articles and websites men are being told to open up more, that in order for a relationship to work we must on all levels talk about our feelings in depth and without prompt.

But how are we supposed to when the moment we do we are mocked, ridiculed and shunned?

It’s no surprise to me that men commit more violent crimes than women, that men commit suicide more than women, that men are more likely to end up alcoholic and forgotten. The moment we try to be anything which the media is telling us we shouldn’t be this anti-sexism kicks in; free reign to have a go at men for all the problems in the world, but should this ever be thrown back at women - that’s just men being sexist as always!

Now, I’m not getting at women. Good lord, do I respect and admire women? Everything from your minds and souls to your hearts and tears right down to your delightful breasts and wonderful botto…Hang on, am I allowed to say that? Or is that being sexist? I’m not sure - I mean I see adverts on TV where women are ogling men’s arses, but am I allowed to do the same? Or is that sexist?

I’m digressing.

My issue with all of this is when men’s health is forgotten or deemed unimportant. This can be both physical and psychological illnesses. My issue is that men’s health seems to be being forgotten. All these posts and articles and news reports and media opinions…they are annoyingly one sided.

• WOMEN can and do have affairs. They are also just as likely to flirt, manipulate emotions and stray purely for the game of it as men are.
• WOMEN are the perpetrators of abuse just as much as they are the victims.
• MEN suffer from mental illness just as women suffer from mental illness.
• MEN feel just as much as women feel.
• (Note that in all of the above I write just as and not more than)

The only reason these aren’t reported is that, once again, men are not supposed to talk about their emotions. We are supposed to hide them at all times and just head down the pub to talk about breasts, sport, arses, beer, breasts, cricket, arses and music; which must always be of a punk, emo, rock, manly genre.

I’d love to see a day when men and women are truly equal. Where a man can cry and not feel ashamed. Where a man can admit to suffering from illness and seek support without being ostracised from his family and friends. Where a man can feel he is not a lesser being for openly admitting to his emotions.

Where I can surf the internet and not repeatedly find stories about how all affairs are the fault of man and his ability think only with his penis. Where I can surf the internet and find stories of men talking about the abuse inflicted on them by women, and where men go to find help for their issues without being the object of degradation or labelling.

Tomorrow…Rant #2: Is ‘passion’ dead?

 Donate to the Mental Health Action Week campaign here

I have a confession to make.
I do.
I have been lying to you all.
Yep.
Absolutely!
I’ve been lying to everyone for the last 28 years, 11 months, 3 weeks and lord knows how many seconds! Now, a week or so before my 29th birthday I have decided to come clean, stand up and confess. Has to be done, no question about it, can’t keep up these lies any more.
Ok…?
Here goes…

[deep breath]

I
am
NOT
a
MAN!

[blimey that feels good!]

It’s like this fifty eight thousand tonne weight has been lifted off my somewhat hairy back. It’s true though – I’m not.

It’s perfectly understandable why you’d all think that I am, what with; the presence of a beard, chest hair, rippling muscles, an Adam’s apple, a penchant to get a hard on at the mere passing thought of a naked woman, and the ability to turn into a raving ape at the actual sight of a naked woman…and oh yeah, I’ve got a penis.

But alas, I am not a man.

Why?

Well, I don’t feel the desire to – when ratarsed – piss in shop doorways; I don’t wolf whistle at woman as they walk down the street; I don’t chug pints of beer as a hobby; nor do I watch sports [breath] I don’t shag other women when I’m in a relationship; I remember birthdays and anniversaries and all sorts of grossly inappropriate important events; I never leave the toilet seat up nor do I feel the need to play the “I can get less urine in the bowel than you” game [breath] I think beer tastes like luke-warm yak’s vomit; I don’t feel the need to lie to a woman constantly in order to (a) impress her (b) cheat on her or (c) bang her; I don’t play football nor receive ridiculously pseudo-erotic pleasure from watching guys running around a field in tight shorts but I do however receive ridiculously pseudo-erotic pleasure from watching a man in a waistcoat screw a ball the length of the table [breathe] I see woman as more than just t-a-c; don’t keep a tally of how many lays I’ve had; I drink alcopops…in public…have never vomited into a pint glass; stolen a witch’s hat; got into a fight; screwed my girlfriend’s best friend nor would I no matter how tempted I may be [breathe] I’d never slap a woman in the face; nor on the ass as a means of coming on to her [smaller breath] I would never give a woman a job based solely on the quality of her posterior; nor get into a discussion about rating my friends’ tits on a 1-10 scale; I wouldn’t scribble 100 words for a woman’s sacred garden above the urinals in the pub…sacred garden? You need more proof? Fine…my mood changes frequently; I talk about my emotions; am not afraid to cry if I want to; nor even when I don’t [breath] I want babies; I want commitment; I like living somewhere where I can see the carpet; I’ve never measured my cock when I’m alone; when I’m talking to a woman I’m looking at her eyes – not her tits; I really don’t see the appeal of a g-string; think cricket is bloody stupid; and would much rather be sitting on a beach talking to a woman about the advantages/disadvantages of John Howard than sitting on a beach staring at her arse [breath] I really don’t see why women need to shave their legs; or their armpits; or their moustache and to be blunt would much rather sleep with someone with a bush hairier than a badger’s back than a bald bush smoother than that of a prepubescent schoolgirl; oh, and I care more about woman orgasming than I do my own, colour me selfish that way [breath] I have no problem ballroom dancing with another man; I have no problem hugging another man; I have no problem talking emotionally with another man; I have no problem crying in front of another man; I have no problem going to see a Doctor if I’m sick; nor do I have a problem with eating an egg and broccoli quiche whilst asking for directions from a man chowing down on a steak sandwich; and oh yes, I admit to making mistakes.

[breathe]

[before I pass out]

Bloody hell I could go on all day, but hey, the easiest way to prove my massive (almost) 29 year long deception – I have no problem with standing up before the whole of the world and announcing: I am suffering from depression!

[oh]

[hang on]

[ummmmmm]

I…ummm…made…a…mistake.

Sorry. Sorry everyone. Dammit, I got it wrong.

I am actually a man after all.

A hell of a man!

Far more so than anyone who fits into the categories I described above; and any man who dares say otherwise may very well be the second person to get a bitch slap from me. And any woman who dares say otherwise – well – if I don’t know them they may get a scolding glare, if I know them, maybe a slap on the butt (‘cause remember I don’t bitch slap women nor do I slap their asses as a means of coming on to them, keep up!)

To be a man, is to be one thing: courageous.

In today’s world, where men are vilified by woman on an almost global scale and forced to become the Neolithic apes they despise so much in order for them to be interested in you (I know, go figure!) being a man is to have the courage to: cry whilst watching Bambi; actually ask for help from the female shop assistant when buying lingerie for your girlfriend; talk about tampons and hormones with your girlfriend; order quiche in the restaurant; actually buy lingerie your girlfriend would like and feel sexy in rather than something you want to see the female shop assistant wear for you; tell your girlfriend if you’ve had a fight with your best mate; cry whilst eating the best piece of tofu you’ve ever tasted; nervously shake when you kiss a woman for the first time; say no to your girlfriend’s best friend when she’s seducing you in the nuddy; realize sport is a complete waste of your life; that pissing in doorways just makes you look like a twat; take your girlfriend’s tampon out of her bag and give it to her without treating it like a live hand grenade; nervously shake when you kiss a woman for the first time badly; ask where her clit is & if there’s anything you’re doing wrong; cry if you’re feeling upset; not hit the first thing you see if you’re drunk, angry or stupid; say I love you in circumstances that don’t involve blow jobs; nervously shake when you kiss a woman for the first time badly and then joke about it afterwards; not always follow your penis’ every request; admitting to how you’re feeling; follow your beliefs no matter what they may be or how derisive your friends are being; not always cum first and then falling asleep; put the toilet seat down; go to the Doctor; tell your girlfriend you have a problem; hell, tell any of your friends that you have a problem.

Being a man is having the courage to stand up and admit that you have a mental illness and not care what anyone thinks.

[And I’m not just saying that because I’m a man who is doing this same exact thing]

That one simple word is all what being a man is. Believing in yourself so much that you don’t care what other men or women think of you. If other men can’t handle it, then, they don’t deserve that beer they pretend to like so much. If women can’t handle it, then, remember that the most important thing is the emotional connection you have, not how many or how often you’ve shagged.

Quality, not quantity.

This insipid culture we now live in where a man is considered to be weak, worthless and spineless because he admits to having a mental illness is what is costing lives. More men die from suicide every year than women. More men go through life in pain than women. Why? Because they’re too afraid to admit they have a problem. Why? Because they don’t have the courage to stand up to the fear, derision and masculine stripping vilification they will receive from all corners if they do. Why? Well, that’s just because everyone’s decided what a man should be instead of realizing they are – like women – human. Men don’t come from Mars any more than women don’t come from Venus (and just for the record, you don’t have to like visiting Uranus to be man).

One of the purest forms of the stigma against mental health is also one of the vilest forms of stigma out there; sexism. And however controversial this may sound, it’s being propagated by women just as much, if not more so, than by men.

Women desire men to be men and this means not having flaws or problems or weaknesses.
In order for a man to be accepted they must act in this way regardless of how they’re feeling.
For we wouldn’t want to be weak now would we!

In a discussion on mental illness I was once told by someone that they could believe and accept in the existence of a woman suffering from post natal depression, but could not believe that depression was something a man could suffer from. In other words, in women it is perfectly acceptable but in men, it is seen as a weakness, a trait to be avoided, ignored, derided and laughed at.

Is it any wonder why so many men are blowing their heads off or chucking themselves off bridges?

Tell me, what’s more courageous?

1. Bottling up all of your emotions so that a woman can respect you, only for your brains to redecorate your office?
2. Admitting to a woman that you have a problem, even if it means never visiting her sacred garden again?

Yep, you’re right.
If it is indeed true that a woman can’t be attracted to a man that cries, then there is something seriously wrong with the world in which we live. Men have feelings, men feel pain, men hurt – and they should be allowing to show it without recrimination.
Women need to realize this.
Men need to realize this.
We all need to realize this.

This was originally posted on All that I am, all that I ever was… (November 2007)