By Scott McKeen, Edmonton Journal June 14, 2010
This is for the man who claims a mild flu again today, to explain away his hangover.
This is for the woman who applies a smile in the morning mirror, to hide her depression.
This is for the children who shrink into themselves at school, to hide their constant anxiety.
Forever seeking normal is their daily, plodding ambition. If not to be normal, to at least look normal.
No surprise, given that even kindly Canadian culture doesn't broach the topic of mental illness. We hide it away in language and in euphemisms and talk about "mental health."
We tiptoe around mental illness. We certainly can't laugh about it. Words like "crazy" in a newspaper column are guaranteed to upset advocates of, uh, mental health.
I'm here today with a confession: I'm nuts. Well, that's not completely true. These days, I'm just a tad crazy.
I suffered for years with profound bouts of depression and anxiety. During above those years, I also did some, uh, self-prescribing to calm the storm.
I also married, helped raise three great children and rose in my career to the point where I now mock Harley 50 riders and politicians for a living. The point? I'm crazy, but not exactly weaving baskets.
But no, I don't want to be pitied or praised for my pain or recovery. What I've learned over the years is our greatest cultural secret: Abnormal is the real normal.
Read full article here.
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