I just wrote this post on alexithymia. I don’t know how I feel about it…
Mission: Leave my biology classroom, walk across one hall and three flights of stairs to the cafeteria, grab a plate of food, refill my coffee cup, then climb two flights of stairs and walk a quarter of the way across the building to an empty classroom, where I would be able to eat with one hand and copy French verb conjugations with the other.
Time allotted: Five minutes.
As a kid, I loved the movie Peter Pan. Wendy was my favorite, of course, with the pastel blue nightgown and butter-yellow curls, and the eerie clock ticking in the crocodile’s stomach and Tiger Lily tied to a chair and left to drown…it’s a little dark, now that I think about it. But when I was eight I didn’t care, and I was thoroughly convinced that if I flapped my wings hard enough, I would fly. Actually, I thought that if I drank soda, I would fly, because my parents never let me have soda. The only possible explanation for this was that they didn’t want me to know how to fly. A diabolical scheme, indeed.
Last week, I published an op-ed in the Stanford Daily criticizing Stanford’s Mental Health Week this January and pointing out the ways in which this particular campaign failed to meet the needs of students with serious mental illness. In this post, I want to elaborate on how I interpreted some of the campaign’s specific messages…
The idea that happiness is an ideal state + the belief that one can choose happiness + the notion that happiness is the opposite of illness = blaming people with mental illness + minimizing said illness.
Can we please change “The Fault in Our Stars” to “Guilt Is A Star?” So much better. Anyway, don’t write irresponsibly about schizophrenia.