I wear a garbage over my head. I'd wear a paper bag but the tears would wet it and show through. No one can see anything through the thick plastic. No ones ever tried to take the bag off, no one knows to try and I never try. Sometimes I think about it, but it's always dismissed very easily, I don't hope that I'll do it one day.
I think sometimes that people are too eager to share their woes and too eager to accept it as something that people say will never disappear. They make excuses for why they do things, things which they know they shouldn't do. I heard a girl once on the train telling her friend how she had gotten annoyed at a women and shouted at her. "I shouldn't have but I have depression and anxiety and I was annoyed." I wanted to shout at her then. I think the worst thing a person can do for themselves is justify the wrongs that they do with mental illness. They'll just keep on letting it happen, saying it's not a part of them and it's alright to do it now, just for now, until it's not so bad. But it's not alright to hurt someone and just because they may have something of a mental illness doesn't make it alright.
I think the sooner we stop telling people they have depression or anxiety the sooner they'll overcome it. When people stop thinking they have a mental illness they'll start trying to fix the troubles in themselves instead of letting it go away with pills or hope. It's not a rain cloud that will just one day run out of rain. If we could forget this thing called mental illness exists, and realise that this sadness or stress is a part of our lives, is us, and something that we can work towards changing, I think it would be better. We could start trying to overcome it, pushing it away, thinking about how we can actually make our lives better, we could make them better.
I think people put mental illness into a separate category from themselves. People don't want to be defined by depression but if no one said it was depression, it doesn't have to be there. Mental illness if us, and that means we don't have to have a mental illness. We just have to have us.
If someone had ever made their way under this garbage bag and told me I had an anxiety disorder I would've looked at them and said good for you mate thanks for letting me know. And I would've kept the bag on my head, letting no one see. Because the moment someone takes the bag off it becomes an excuse and I'd be allowed to cry and allowed to stress and be allowed for everyone to know. But as long as I don't allow myself, it only sneaks its way out very subtly. Every thing I do is attributed to me, nothing else, just me. And regardless of what else is there, at the end of the day it's all in my mind and it's all me. I doubt that this garbage bag will ever really be removed. I don't want to do it and if I die with this garbage bag still over my head I'll be happy and that's what matters.
At the end of the day people deal with things in different ways, I like garbage bags but others may hate the feeling of plastic on their face. Perhaps people like the way tears slightly stain paper bags. Perhaps people like none. It doesn't matter really, as long as it for you, because you're what matters.