The Worst Part

Joker has a lot of catchy quotes about mental illness that are at best incorrect and at worst destructive.

“I haven’t had one good day in my life” is a top one because it isn’t true for the majority of people. It just feels true in the darkest moments.

“What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE.” Sure, let’s give society even more reasons to worry about the crazies going on killing sprees. And let’s glorify violence as the best way to enact change while we’re at it.

“I stopped taking my medication, I feel much better now.” While I get that Arthur Fleck is meant to be a cautionary tale, that comment glorifies not getting needed help.

There is one quote that I agree with though. “The worst part about having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.”

In 2010, I found myself in a terrible situation like a lot of Americans. But few of my friends and family could understand just how bad my inner mental condition had become.

Even when I sent out hundreds of resumes without a call back and was told that I was overqualified to work at Starbucks or Walmart, my friends told me to just keep trying. They had no idea how my confidence was nearly gone.

Even though I barely had enough energy to get through the day, much less start a new fitness regime, well-meaning family harped on my weight and suggested I use my new “funemployment” time to get in shape.

I put on a strong face for my wife and infant son, burying a lot of my pain. But every day I doubted that I worthy of their love.

I began walking down to a nearby bridge and fantasize about hurling myself into the churning Puget Sound. I constantly thought about how nice it would be just to check out permanently, but when I was depressed I just didn’t have the wherewithal to make serious plans.

A few days after President’s Day 2010 a perfect storm hit. My mania and anxiety had been ramping up since Valentines, which is a hard holiday when you don’t even love yourself. I was coming back from a crushing interview where I had sat for an hour before being told that there was a mix-up and the job had already been filled the day before. On the way home, my neighbor’s dog ran out in front of my car. The last thing I needed was to get into a fight with someone. But the neighbor kept screaming at me for going too fast and I started yelling that he should keep the dog on a leash. I had the good sense not to get out of my car when he challenged me, but as soon as I got home I was seething. On one hand, it was nice to feel something besides crushing despair. But I also knew that giving into this rage would make me do something stupid, whether that was hurt the neighbor or myself.

Thank God I called a crisis hotline that put me in touch with a great counselor. After years of struggle, I was finally diagnosed with a serious but treatable condition.

Joker is right in that a few terrible experiences can push to the edge. Just like in the movie, it can also be hard to find a good therapist who takes your problems seriously. In the Army, I had been diagnosed with run of the mill depression after the death of my grandparents. I don’t blame the overworked behavioral specialists, but at the time I was dealing with the ultimate bureaucracy and a culture that didn’t approve of seeking help.

In therapy, I also learned that you can come back from the abyss by taking small steps every day. I try to eat right and exercise several times a week. Keeping a regular sleep schedule is a must. I find that instead of standing my ground and arguing with others over something trivial, I can try and defuse a situation. Which is easier said than done given my Southern propensity to not back down from a fight. I’ve also learned meditative exercises for defusing my sadness and anger by sitting with those feelings, letting them wash over me and then pass on.

By all accounting, my recovery has been a great success. I’m now making twice as much in a job where my boss and coworkers love me. I no longer worry about losing my house or car. I’m 30 pounds lighter and in a few months plan to earn my junior black belt. My wife no longer worries that I feel suicidal. And my fears that my newborn son would inherit my struggles proved to be unfounded. He’s now an amazing 11-year-old who thankfully didn’t have to go through some of the same struggles with bullying and trauma that I did.