A Not-So-Hip Illness

Today's post is a guest submission from Analisa. When I first read it, I cried.  Her experience is achingly familiar to me and probably will strike a chord for all those who experience some form of mental illness.

Adverts
by Analisa

I do a lot of walking for work.  I rush by looking at all the advertisements covering large spaces of walls in a blur of color when I’m late. When I have time to, I like to look at them because they are mostly not the usual adverts of Shampoo or thin model for shoes, but of the up lifting kind.  “Women: the greatest natural untapped resource.”  “Wrote a book about living while dying.” “Serve: he did on and off the court.” “Red dress for women. They have more heart attacks than men—raise awareness and money.” “Buy pink martinis for breast cancer research and awareness.”  Salute the troops “Until they are all home.”

 While all of these causes are note worthy I’ve always feel terrible about my illness.  No one has a nice moniker for being mentally ill.  No one has walks or parties or paraphernalia for being mentally ill.  I’m sure those highly motive individuals who run these great organizations would suggest that I’m the perfect candidate to start something.  The thing is my illness leaves me with such limited energy I couldn’t stand to wasted it on something I could never finish.   I understand what an undertaking these organizations can be while some days I can’t even get out of my bed.  So I continue to rush by and look at the newest advert for different causes while my resentment continues to grow because I do not have a “hip” illness.

One day I realized a new poster for a military promo. A man sitting on a cot with the words “You can’t see all scars.”  My breath catches with excitement, this is it, this is what I have been waiting for.  It may not be mental illness altogether, but I will take PTSD, after all that is definitely a mental problem even if they are putting as only a military problem.  The more I look the advert over I soon realize how wrong I am.  The soldier’s eyes are showing pain, but on his forehead is a big scar.  I immediately see what the advert is trying to express that is so difficult for others to grasp.  You must have a physical injury in order to have something wrong with you.  Sure, he has PTSD, but everyone wouldn’t know that by the pain in his eyes; he must have a scar so that we know something is wrong.  I think this may be the most frustrating part as I have incredible physical health.  It has helped me hide my problems so well.  This advert has hit me with a double whammy of disappointment from not displaying my illness correctly and reinforcing a stereotype.  

As I went to write this I wanted to make sure of what it said; I realize I avoid that hallway at work, so I don’t have to be disappointed all over again.  I was surprised at how much this advert affected me. I know most of the time the tricks, but you can’t always hide from the responses they get you to feel.