I’ve been thinking a lot about–oh my god particles, they call it “mental health.” For some reason today it strikes me as a totally bonkers name.

Because it feels more like–one minute you’re a jigsaw puzzle that’s all put together, and the next you get dropped and you’re just a bunch of pieces in a box. And it’s kind of funny, and it’s kind of horrible, because the puzzle knows it’s made out of pieces and the pieces know they’re supposed to be a puzzle.

(Mostly it’s funny. I mean, it is for me, but then I deal with things mostly using the medium of being aggressively comedic at them until they get confused and go away.)


It doesn’t stop, though. There’s no puzzle glue, or whatever; there are habits that keep the edges together, and you learn ways of staying a–a picture of flowers, and this metaphor has gotten away from me but I’m not much bothered, so there.

Also sometimes the puzzle pieces are made out of knives with sharp edges and no mercy. But there are ways of stopping that too.

You get used to it. You can, in some ways, fix yourself.

But there’s this stupid narrative about insanity that you magically get better. Like, one minute you’re crazy or struggling with really intense depression or bipolar disorder! Then you’re in love with someone! Then you’re ~ALL BETTER HOORAY~, and nothing worse ever happens to you ever again, because you are magically fixed.

And that’s really damaging. Because what if you don’t get magically better? What does that mean for you, if you still, occasionally, fall to pieces? Does it mean you aren’t trying hard enough? Does it mean you’re just not good enough?

No! It doesn’t mean anything! That narrative is so incredibly wrong, and so incredibly damaging, because some people have a quick fix and most don’t.

I…have never gone full-on hospitalized crazy. I’ve been mad depressed, and I’ve had a couple of times when I put everything down and walked away, not entirely of my own intention. And it makes it worse thinking it’s your fault or that you’re supposed to be able to fix yourself or that anyone is going to come and save you, because it’s not and you’re not and they’re not.

It comes and goes. It’s always going to come, but it’s always going to go. That’s the only truth I know.