(Lookie! I used an interrobang!)
See this cat?
This cat is disappointed by my slacking on the web presence.
I have a myriad of excuses*, but better late than never, right?
So, yes, I am in Halifax, Nova Scotia at the Halifax Fringe Festival.
I had my opening show tonight, and it was lovely. I have more shows left!
And that there is all you need to know. Whew! Done the blog post, now to the social medias!!
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*Oh, hey there… you’re still reading. Looking for that little ol’ footnote. Well, here it is:
My myriad of reasons for not getting this done earlier is brain chemistry, a.k.a. mental illness.
It’s no secret that I struggle with depression, like a remarkable amount of creatives and funny people. In hindsight, coming out of 2020 triggered a serious decline that really kicked in about a year ago– gained weight, inactivity, inability to leave the house, increased manifestation of my addictive tendencies, the simplest of tasks (such as a media post) being seemingly impossible. Even bathing is hard.
Y’all, I don’t want to be seen by people. As you can guess, that provides a conflict of interest.
The good news is I am finally getting to see someone about adjusting medications to help me be who I know I can be. That, however is still a month into the future, and the help I need, I need it now.
And that is typical of healthcare in the U. S. The clinics are currently overwhelmed with people that are an active danger to themselves and others. But since mental health care providers are understaffed and inaccessible, folx like me, who are really good at covering up the darkness, get dropped, fall in the cracks. Being well-spoken and having a sense of humor means that I am not taken seriously when I tell professionals that I am NOT in a good place. And I may have to amplify my already well-developed symptoms just to be seen.
I am no means alone in this situation.
And we come back to my dark, dark thoughts on American healthcare. Mental wellness support is an afterthought… unless it is being used politically to justify mass shootings.
And why have I shared this? Because mental illness is not a thing to be ashamed of. And I, for one, am tired of feeling that it is a personal failing because I have inherited whackadoodle brain chemistry.
Whenever a seemingly buoyant famous person kills themself, there are always discussions of how nobody knew they were this bad, and how did we not see it.
It’s not seen because we’re not supposed to show it. Because you can’t do anything about it, and when you seek out help, you are deprioritized.
I need to be seen, so that I want to be seen again.