Stigma is defined as a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person. There is a large stigma surrounding mental illness preventing those who are struggling from talking about it. I want to help break down that stigma using art.
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"Tender" by Nick Vita
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"Anxiety Hands" by Maya Marciano
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ANXIETY.
There are five major classes of anxiety disorders that affect approximately 10% of teenagers and nearly 40% of adults. Contrary to popular belief anxiety can affect the body physically as well as mentally. Unfortunately, it is common for someone with anxiety to experience shortness of breath, shaking, nausea, rapid heartbeat, and dizzy spells. There are five generalized classes of anxiety; Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD), Panic Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), and Social Anxiety Disorder. Anxiety can be treated through both medication and therapy. Approximately two-thirds of adults diagnosed with anxiety do not receive treatment and only one-in-five teenagers do. Scientists are trying to discover more about the biological factors that contribute to anxiety as recent studies have shown chemical imbalances in the brains from those who suffer from anxiety disorders. Anxiety is a word that people use in their day-to-day lives incorrectly. Its meaning has been diluted by statements such as, “ Everyone is stressed, we all go through it,”. At some point in our social culture it has become acceptable to minimize and degrade the disorder, essentially softening the severity of what anxiety actually is. People with anxiety tend to refrain from speaking of their disorder for fear that people will try to compare their disorder to everyday stressors like having too much homework. It is not the same thing.
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What if we treated physical illness like we did mental illness?
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“Walking” written by Clarence Morse Jr.
Picking up the pen, I'm calling on my heavenly father, Send me some guidance to my step, Cause nobody knew when I started slipping, Maybe they did, And I didn't see the signs, Brothers be asking where I've been, I'm looking at em like what's the time, Cause I'm just a sad brother who can't ask for help, Cause of my death will be my pride, It'll be a disease or maybe a tree, Hear the ropes strain round my neck, I'm saying please, Closer I get to feeling the flames, I try to find someone to blame, Checking the papers, all I see is my name, So nobody can take the fall for my shame, I'm a mess and ain't nobody gonna change that, Took me almost dying to realize that, Cause this poetry won't garner me no fame, Less there's an obituary attached to this name, Poets are better known dead, Least all the brothers I've read, Somebody said I could be Langston Hughes, I said I would be better writing my blues, All my other colors left me with no absolution, Mess around, end up in institutions, My mental state the basis of your thesis, How can a man live on the edge of seizing, Putting a bullet through his skull, I think I'm gonna lose it, I think of my grandmother praying for me, Hoping today gonna be the day, I don't choose it, And get back to them, Praising the Lord for my blessings, Staying the hand on the clapback, I wish I could say this without a track, But that's the curse of being black, Cause we look so beautiful splayed on pavement parted, Funerals rememberin our dearly departed, often, Their deaths look nothing like art, so what then, We let them die in vain? I wish someone felt this pain… Cause these days I feel like I'm straying from God…
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“F Your Thesis On My Mental State” written by Clarence Morse Jr.
This is the sound of a sucide, It don't end with a scream, It don't end with tears, It ends in fingers tapping against a screen, Looking to leave a trace of existence, You ain't known a fire starter, Till a good man goes to war,
Cause this is the sound, Of when a good man wants to die, This is the sound, Of when a good man wants to die, This is the sound, Of when a good man wants to blow out the candle on his life, Cause he just can't take it anymore, This is the sound, Of staying hypocritical, For screaming black lives matter and wanting mine to end, Is like asking for a refund on a dollar purchase, It's ridiculous. Screaming hands up, don't shoot, Cause I'll be the biggest hypocrite of 2017, When I paint a masterpiece on a wall with my grey matter, Stitch together the pieces, Find a lesson within my genocide,
This is the sound of when a good man wants to die, This is the sound of when good people want to be evil And when evil looks like the best option, Like check off the box next to the absence of sanity, I am a broken man, Past picking up the pieces, I watch them scatter like sand in the wind, I will be omnipresent, When my death is parallel to regicide, Cause I believed myself to be a prince waiting to ascend the throne, Now I'm just another brother without a home, Lost in delusions of grandeur, Trapped within the past and tantalized by the future, Have you seen my mind, I've seem to misplaced it along the way, As I traveled and began to slip and slide, See this is the sound of when a good man already died, And his corpse keeps walking, Keeps talking, Waving his hands about as he remembers his humanity, Reveling in the numbing of the absence, Have you seen my mind, I must have left it behind on my journey This is the sound of when you lose your home, This is the sound of when you lose your mind, This is the sounds of insanity, This is the sounds of insanity, Repeating the same loop, Hoping this might be the time you get it right, You tip the scale until your cup runneth over, And over into the deep of the abyss, This is the sound of a suicide, It isn't passionate, Or Desperate, Or cold… It's comforting, Until the end.
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SCHIZOPHRENIA.
Schizophrenia, a chronic mental illness caused by either physical, psychological, and environmental factors, is one of the leading causes of disability in the United States. People who have been diagnosed with Schizophrenia have fallen victim to their own mind. Symptoms include thought and movement disorders, hallucinations, and delusions that may cause someone to have a psychotic episode. The symptoms begin to appear through ages 16 and 30. Schizophrenia may be inherited through generations, however there isn’t a known gene that is responsible for causing the illness. Studies have discovered a difference in brain structure of those who are affected by the gene and those who are not, and scientists are continuing their search for a . Approximately 50% of people diagnosed with schizophrenia do not receive treatment. Our society has become tainted with prejudice against those with mental illnesses resulting in a battle that no one can fight alone. Together we must break through the ignorance that clouds a future of understanding and acceptance of all members of our community.
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DEPRESSION.
Major Depression, also known as clinical depression, is one of the most common mental illnesses in the US. It can be caused by a combination of biological, psychological, and environmental stresses that may cause an abnormality in certain neural circuits in the brain. Characterized by a persistent loss of interest or depressed mood, it can also lead to a range of behavioral and physical symptoms. For example, depression can affect your sleep habits, study habits, and eating habits. It can also make you feel extremely lethargic, affect your energy level, and affect your self esteem. You may even feel physically ill for no logical reason. In extreme cases, depression can be associated with suicidal tendencies. It’s a very common disorder, with more than 3 million cases in the US per year. Mental illness happens to be the biggest health issue in the world and yet 60% of the people who suffer from mental illness do not receive any treatment. Why? Because from a young age we are taught that people with mental illness are “crazy” or even dangerous. Including those who are depressed. People who are depressed are often seen as, “weird” or, “loners.” It is no surprise that with these negative stereotypes in place, those who are depressed often face social isolation for fear of admitting they are depressed. Which, in fact, can be more harmful to their well-being than if they were able to receive the support and treatment they need.
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“To a Scarlike Memory” written by Alex Grimm
I think we all have our own ways
Of escaping. Some of us use drugs, Highs to hide the pain- Some of us work, And work And work Or drink And drink And drink or both- Some of us sleep, Or don’t sleep at all. Or sleep with others, Or sit quiet with music playing Somewhere in the background- But I think, Everyone just tries to escape.
I think that is how we all deal Nowadays. We run away. We smile without our eyes. We smile not for ourselves But as a reassurance for others. I just laugh louder.
We take our pills. We sit in rooms with a therapist Or say we don’t need one, Like I can find my friend At the bottom of the next bottle, Like I can find my friend Between my sheets Between two words strung together The way she used to say them Like I can’t trace the start of my worrying About people About losing people Back to that moment.
I tell everyone that I don’t want to follow her. That I actually like living, That I don’t feel as bad as when Everyone thought I needed a therapist- When I stopped sleeping So I could catch phone calls at 3am From friends who just needed Someone to talk to- I never painted my wrists. I worked harder instead. The more I worked, The more exhausted I became And the more I began to think about How people described their depression In TV commercials- Like a dog that doesn’t ever stop Following you Around, Like a cloud that you are forced to Look through if you want to see Anything at all- I came to think of mine Like a road That I had to keep driving on, Like the way a straight highway Gets calm when there are no other cars, Like how you get tired And play the music louder to try And stay awake.
I play the music all day Every day To try and stay awake Until every word Reminds me of a lyric So I don’t have to think Anymore.
I can’t save everyone. I’m no god. I’m not strong Like Atlas I can’t hold the weight Of everyone and my own problems But I will still tell you That I’m here for you. That I know what scar-like memories Feel like, That I will take your calls Even at 3 in the morning That no matter how much you hurt me I will still be there for you to cry on Be that shoulder you can rely upon That I will laugh louder And maybe you’ll get lost in my stubbornness Or maybe my forgetfulness Or maybe I’ll just manage to make you happy And in that moment, In the moment, Maybe I can make everything okay For just a moment.
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Stigma.
Stigma is defined as a mark of disgrace associated with a particular circumstance, quality, or person. Mental illness refers to a wide range of mental health conditions, or disorders, that affect your mood, thinking, and behavior. There is a large stigma surrounding people who suffer from mental illness. For years, people with mental illness have been ostracized from society. Shunned for being burdened with something they have no control over. Rejection from society causes those who are affected to feel isolated and helpless in their battle. Stuck with the feeling of walking on an endless road.
Stigma erodes confidence that mental illnesses are real, and treatable health conditions. We allow stigma to create barriers around effective treatment and recovery. Our society prevents people from getting the help they need out of fear of being ridiculed. Mental illness is nothing to be afraid of. My goal is to help break down this stigma and open up the possibilities of readily available treatment.
Conversation is the first step to acceptance and recovery.
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Mental illness is nothing to be ashamed about. Let’s have a conversation about it.
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“Tunnel Vision” Written by Abby Daggett and Evie Wybenga
To your left and to your right
there are walls.
In front, far ahead,
you know there's an exit,
Do you start seeing doors everywhere you go?
You know where you came from.
You don't want to look back.
Do you fantasize about neon pulses
and footsteps like heartbeats?
Above your head, an ocean of stars and collection of constellations swim dizzily
Your arms ache to swim too
But you can't.
You can't fly either.
So you just walk.
Walk barefoot across the sunbaked gravel
A hundred pounds of history on your back,
It’s the momentum that keeps you alive.
It's the fear of being crushed.
You are so full of empty spaces,
You can lose yourself,
In the bruising
In its chaotic stenciling across wrists
And stomachs.
How tightly holding on costs shades of purples and blacks.
The constellations etched gently onto your arms.
Bright points of navigation,
Maps of long nights meeting with tender veins.
Softly glowing goodbyes
Drift up and mingle with the stars,
But you are Icarus
Humans weren’t meant to fly
If you get lost up there, you can’t come down.
It’s too hot
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