Don't be Sorry for Me.
The doctors said, ‘This is the end of the road, Kate. 21 hospitalizations, constant hallucinations and persistent suicidality. We have to find you a psychiatric home.’
Those words - to call chained windows and no freedom to leave - a home. I used to think, ‘How dare they call what feels like a prison, a home?’
But now I think, ‘how naive I was’ and -
What of the millions in this country who are inhumanely put in actual prison and deserve that spot in the psychiatric home?
What of the millions who can’t afford treatment, medications or their livelihood because of their illnesses?
What of the millions of humans who are too terrified to even ask for help because society is so damn cruel to those with mental illness?
I’m the lucky one. People forget that a lot, especially when they hear my story. People say, ‘I’m sorry’ a lot. People get angry a lot on my behalf.
But don’t be sorry and don’t be angry on my behalf. I grew up in a place where it’s okay to show up in pain. I got actual help in the mental healthcare system. I got offered a place in a psychiatric home. I survived and millions do not. I am the lucky one.
So today, Instead of being sorry or angry on my behalf, use that energy to make space for pain. Use that energy to talk about the hard stuff. Use that energy to show up for others when they are struggling. Use that energy to model in every single action of your existence what radical acceptance of true humanity looks like.
Don’t be sorry for me.
I’m not sorry at all.
I’m here full of gratitude - a token of pure privilege and a hell of a lot of hustle - to teach us all not to be sorry about mental illness but to instead TALK ABOUT IT.
So today, let’s do that. Let’s talk about it, all of it -the pain, the shit, the mess - and set ourselves free.
Photo from my dream of a wedding by @jennifermckennaphoto