I’m just a little obsessed with Turn Me On by David Guetta ft. Nicki Minaj. The music, the lyrics (although not creative) make me feel pretty sexy and most importantly free.
It hit me a few days ago that this could be my BPD anthem!
It’s a horrible way of thinking wrapped into a catchy song!
Give me something
I need your love
I need your love
I need your loving
You got that kind of medicine that keeps me comin’
I was so dependent on the person I was with. They would keep me going because I couldn’t do it on my own. Savior is actually the appropriate word.
Make me come alive
Come on turn me on
Touch me, save my life
Come on and turn me on
I’m too young to die
Come on and turn me on
Being with someone was my reason for living. It was proof that I was worth something. I constantly needed male approval. Without it I hated myself. Who was I if I couldn’t find someone to love me? I wasn’t going to love myself.
You’ve got my life in the palm of your hands
Come and save me now
I know you can, I know you can
These guys were chosen to save my life. They didn’t know it at first but they decided for me if I was going to live or die that day. They defined me so they could easily break me apart.
I’ve found myself thinking over the years about how amazing music is at saying what I haven’t been able to. Despite this I’ve found it upsetting that I have still experienced a lack of understanding.
I know people are listening to this song for example and thinking, “Yeah! Save my life!!!! Whoo!!”, not realizing how real that is for some people and they wouldn’t, especially not given the dance beat. Music provides a 2 or 3 minute snapshot of something about life. Once the song is over so is the experience but for some of us we can’t shut it off, it doesn’t end, it keeps going.
I don’t know if I explained myself well but I’m sure you can see what I’m getting at.
Sometimes you don’t help.
Sometimes you are the reason people with mental health issues are stigmatized.
You create stigma when you label yourself as experts. Claiming that you know more about my life than I do. You are the reason every person who took a psychology course at one point in their life feels they can now diagnose everyone and understand what mental illness is. I hate it when random people play “expert” and tell me what my symptoms are and what treatments I should consider because “I took a psychology class once.” If you have not lived it you will never get it. When you don’t listen to me when I say that something isn’t working because you can’t trust the judgement of someone who is “crazy”. You create stigma by taking away my right to choose all because you are the “expert”.
When you withhold valuable information on side effects you are creating stigma. You are keeping all knowledge to yourself and not sharing it with those who deserve to hear it; those taking the medications and treatments you offer. You keep us in the dark so we need to look up to you and trust you because we don’t have access to this information ourselves. You have the power. We become powerless.
When you blame the disease and not the drug, you are creating stigma. It is a horrible feeling to think that you are so sick that not even the industries “wonder drugs” can help you. This leads to “common” knowledge being that these medications WILL help and if they do not then you are a lost cause. This also creates a fear for those who have mental health issues but are not on psychiatric medication, such as myself. “Rarer than corpses are the unmedicated Mad” (Terrence McKenna). We must be truly crazy and out of control since we are not on medication. Maybe this is because we’re thrown into an industry that can’t admit it’s flaws. Only patients fail. The Industry can only succeed. Stop spreading this lie.
“Experts”, when you don’t take us seriously you create stigma. I was talking to my Mother last night about my Prozac-induced suicide attempt at 16 years old and how I’m afraid to talk about it on national TV. She began telling me that the hospital just waved off my attempt. They had always waved me off claiming it wasn’t a big deal. I got worse. If those who are supposed to help us cannot take us seriously then who will? And why should they?
What, you may ask, should you do about this? “Experts”, stop being experts. Value our insight, value our knowledge, value our lives. See us as equals, see us as valid. We should be your partners, your answers to everything you want to know.
We cannot be helped, we cannot recover if those who help us are apart of the problem.