anxiety

Worked up from home.

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In this period of post-COVID and the struggles of the mental health/invisible illness community that has been given a spotlight to the world. The struggles of not being able to leave the house or the mental strain has been enlightening for many.  There is one area that surprises me that has garnered so little attention. The ability to work from home.

This lovely ability which so few of us even considered pre-pandemic is now such a staple to the workplace there has been active fights to go “back to normal”. Seeing articles like this where people and governments want more butts in seats at offices to ensure “work is being done” or to justify the multimillion dollar leases/buildings that they have spent money to obtain. The constant fighting and arguing about how working from home is hurting the economy and society (really?) is getting tiresome. This however is a ruse, in my opinion, and brings up a separate point. Being that we switched to working from home so fast and with such ease, it begs the question, why haven’t we done this sooner for those who CAN’T work in office or have disabilities working?

I have worked in office during the majority of the pandemic and find myself very fortunate to have worked in jobs that have been understanding of my illnesses (Fibromyalgia, Chronic Pain Disorder, IBS) even before that. However, more recently, I have been put in a position of a new job and the ability to work partially (hybrid) from home. The difference has been amazing. On days were I have a severe flareup, I am able to use my heating pad and wear comfortable clothes. I can relax my body and not stress out over the constant people at my desk. I do not have to risk my lower immune system to any and every passing cold, flu, whatever a few times a week. It is quite lovely.

This comes back to the point at which asks, why did we not do this sooner? How long have businesses gone and said “we can never do remote work”? It took them less than a month to get an entire world the ability to work from home during lockdown. Now they want to go back because they want more control. They have never cared about the invisible illness community or those who are immunocompromised or people in general. Workplaces and companies have claimed inclusion but ignore so many people suffering when they themselves took advantage of the situation and got their employees working from home.

There has never been a more shining example of the blatant disregard to those who are struggling or suffering due to the fact they have an illness they cannot control. I have many friends who have a difficult financially who would love to take advantage of the ability to work from home. The technology is here, we have been shown it works. The workplace has adapted and changed forever, and in the best of ways. Don’t let them take back this opportunity.

I will say, not every job can work from home. I understand the industries and businesses that require in-person interaction. However, please tell me how data entry and answering phones cannot be done remote? Please tell me why you don’t want to be accommodating to those who can’t leave the house without risking their safety? This is an issue that needs to be answered. We have been ignored long enough.  

Stay safe my friends. Hug a plushie.

PS I have been informed that I have been here 8 years writing. It has been a pleasure sharing my story with you. May I be here for many more.

The Perfect Perfectionist

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Perfectionism is a curse. It gives us this inherent drive to be “practically perfect in every way” because anything else is failure. Why are we given this drive to be perfect? Why are we striving to be the best and never have anything wrong? As Someone with anxiety I can tell you it is worse than you realize.

With anxiety, perfectionism is a way of life. You are a complete control freak who has to know where each thing is placed. You have to know how a person is going to react and brace yourself for when that reaction is false (to you). When that unexpected bill comes or an accident happens, you world cracks so that you are unable to recover. You have to be perfect.

This perfectionism is a binding that makes it almost impossible to enjoy life. You wait for those brief, beautiful perfect moments that shine like diamonds, and accept that finally everything is in its place. However, these moments are far and few in-between and they almost immediately overshadowed by the fact that life is not perfect, things are not OK 100% of the time and you are still living in the real world. Forcing yourself to accept this is a monumental task.

Anxiety makes you question everything. You look around and think about every single reaction of people and things because you have to keep this world, your world, in check so it doesn’t overwhelm you. You fight day in and day out trying to maintain control. You cannot win and eventually, you will fail. Once this thought of failure sets in, you now enter a depressive state. You are now overcome with the thoughts of not being good enough, smart enough, clever enough for this world. You never realize that it is all a part of life.

When you have anxiety, and it is part of your life, you have a handicap that doesn’t seem like a handicap. You are to your job “attentive”, “detail oriented”, and a “great multitasker”. To your friends and loved ones you are “always thoughtful”, “caring about others”, “helpful” and “remember the little things”. However, to ourselves we are just a small step away from breaking down due to the plates we have spinning, and if we miss one and it crashes, the rest seem all the more likely to fall.

Anxiety is the fuel source for perfectionism. And like all fuel, eventually it will run out. Anxiety burnout happens to any with anxiety. Remember to forgive yourself, be patient with others, and look for the signs of being a perfectionist that could be effecting you and those around you.

As always, #hugaplushie my friends

The Shattering Glass

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“Reputation, like glass, once broken, can never be repaired.”

Life is currently in the most tense state of mind that I have ever known. I have seen friends, family, and coworkers all tear one another apart and shred any hope of repairing a relationship. Rally calls for change, fights to keep everything the same, and everything in between is part of each daily life. I look at what I personally have been through the past several years. I look at divorce, a multitude medical issues, bills, restarting my life, being a father and I know in my heart that I have been through fire and worse. I am proud to have kept my commitment, as much as I could, to remain as kind as I can be to everyone.

One of the key elements of what I have seen is the pulling out of someone’s past as an example of who a person “Truly” is, usually at their worst. These cherry-picked moments to reveal the nature of someone from a time 5, 10, or more years ago that undeniable show that someone is terrible. Holding these as truth and never letting them die, these are the actions of people unwilling to accept that someone can change. These are actions that embolden others to not accept change or the will to ignore the same.

Is it like glass, never again to be repaired as it once was?

I look at my past and the stupid actions that I have taken. I have written regarding my anxiety and how it is a highlight of your worse moments that you relive almost daily. I see the changes I have made, the self-reflection that show my flaws, the actions taken to change those flaws, and to be a better person. If all of my actions are considered null and void, and they are broken glass, what does it matter if I attempt to make the change? Because, the change is not for others.

Its to change who you are for the better.

It is a fundamental ideal to strive for when making self changes. These actions are not for the sake of others, it is to change you. To make a better you in this life. The affects of those changes to those around you are a byproduct, a secondary response. The change needs to be in you, for you.

And sometimes that means working with broken glass.

When we see a mirror or window, that perfect sheet that is crisp and clean, we see it for what it is, unbroken. However, life does not allow for you not to be broken. You will go through hard times, troubles, and very bad days. With each crack, a piece of you falls off. It chips away at you until you have just a pile. That is when you can start to make a masterpiece. An unbroken plane of glass, like the white page, is just a beginning.

We can look at examples of beautiful mosaics and stained glass windows in cathedrals. These are examples of what can be done with time, patience, and effort with these same broken pieces. exquisite works of art that are not made by the perfect sheet, but by the pieces that came from them. Sometimes we have to be broken to be remade into something better and more beautiful.

Sometimes, we can change.

My two points in this post are;

Outside: What are you doing to be kind to others and allowing them to change, pick up the pieces, and be better? Are you not allow people to change and just throwing stones in glass houses? Are you helping others to move along with their reclamation project of making their mosaic? Or are you just looking at the shattered glass in disgust?

Inside: What are you doing to improve yourself? How are you fitting the pieces together to be beautiful? Are you seeing the stones thrown at your stained glass window, seeing the pieces fall and give up? Is it not easier to fix the few pieces that have fallen instead of the whole sheet of glass? Do you need help and are too scared or ashamed to ask?

I ask each and every one of you to do something kind for someone today. Help someone build themselves, maybe accept that someone can change for the better. Do some good, be the good in this world.

#hugapony my friends

Crying for help.

/ Daniel/Codefreak / 2 Comments

In the wake of the national tragedies that have been sweeping the nation these past days, the subject of mental health has come back to the surface. These terrible acts are committed by cowards, as we are told about how they cried out for help but were denied. They were shown the door too many times and the mental health professionals were unable to treat them. We collectively are at fault for not understanding.

I am tired of it.

Why is it the debate only comes up in a tragedy? Why is it that we are unable to show the care and affection that is needed in the moment and not after the fact? How can there be this much failure from so many people? Is it because we are not listening in the moments that matter? Are we not judging so many people that try and get help? I have seen too many people bullied for seeking the help that they need and it is not even second guessed. We have failed as a society twice.

First, we deny or attack those who need our help. Would you slap a child’s hand away from the railing as it struggled to stand up? Would you deny a diabetic who needs their insulin? Would you attack the person missing the leg that they don’t need the crutch and just need to suck it up and learn how to walk like the rest of us? How terrible it is that we do this to those who need help in their darkest times. When we tell the mom who needs an antidepressant, because she can’t understand why she can’t be happy with 2 kids, that she is failing as a mom. We look at the teen who cannot concentrate, because the neurons in the brain are firing too much, that he just is a lazy child who will be worthless. When someone needs therapy, the whole room gasps in shock and horror. Everyone whispers to themselves in secret at how horrible that person must be. The is the social normalcy we have created. We do not accept our failure as a society that has created this innate fear of speaking up that you need help.

Second, we blindly deny judgment that we could have done something to help them. We blame anything else, objects, movies, video games, technology, generational gaps, lack of family structure.  Has perfectionism reach this highest level that if you don’t get the perfect SAT score, ace that university exam, get the best paying job, it is just not worth living this life, or even I need to bring everything else down because that is all I have left. Anything less than perfection is not accepted. We blame politics and groups of people and everything else. The first part about fixing a problem is admitting we have a problem. However, everyone needs to admit that we are all at fault. Instead we are stuck shifting the blames from one another in an attempt to make ourselves not feel guilty.

Too much hurt has been caused in this environment that we live in. Accountability is at an all time low. Yours, mine, everyone. We need to make a change. Sometimes it can be a small act of kindness. Maybe you turn the other cheek and not say that snarky comeback. What are you doing to break the chain?

#hugapony my friends

Tumbling through the Fog

/ Daniel/Codefreak / 3 Comments

There has been an amazing amount of activities going in in my brain lately.  Few things fascinate me as much as the human brain does. It regulates the body and all the functions. It makes sure to self protect from danger. It creates entire worlds in an imagination. It runs 24 hours a day, everyday for our entire lives. The brain is truly an incredible thing. But, as much as we don’t want to believe as a society, it can be sick.

Its easy to spot the sick brain when it has cancer, the skull is cracked, or if there is a hemorrhage. These are readily identified and show the causes as such. Treatments are fairly known and while it is terrible when these things happen, it is clear what is the problem When it comes to mental health, it becomes much more murky.

The few tests done are for chemical imbalances. It shows the nutrients and lacking minerals in the body, blood sugars, and toxin screenings. The next one goes through the history of your mental health, changes shown, what is being down to help. We are listed as a Risk/Non-risk to ourselves and we are shuffled on to the next set of testing.

This endless cycle of not knowing, being criticized by friends, family, and even the doctors themselves. It becomes almost unbearable. Going day in and day out fighting your own brain and having to argue with yourself that you do matter, and that there is something wrong with you. You have to convince yourself that, Yes you are sick and you need help. This constant wear strains the already weary brain.

Now we add in a physical illness. Lyme disease, fibromyalgia, or Crohn’s decease. Illnesses that are not an immediate threat but cause all kinds of havoc in the daily lives of sufferers. Lack of sleep, fighting pain and nerve medications, and the conditions themselves slowing and sometimes stopping us in our tracks. I have used over half my vacation time for sick time this last year. It wears through you at a steady rate and shows the problems that are evident in your body.

All these things make up for a depressive episode. Times when reason and rational go out the window and show that even when you are intelligent and even aware of all the answers and conditions, you still stumble and cannot make your brain see that it is wrong. You spiral down the drain and you argue with yourself 10 times over more than you usually do in an attempt to find peace. It is this peace that you seek. A peace that is the calm center in this hurricane.

It takes every bit of effort and help to find it.

And, like a hurricane, when you find this peace in the eye of the storm, you brace for the back half of the storm. You see the storm clouds, you feel the winds and you cringe as you know how much it is going to hurt. This is were I am at today. I have been through the wringer and am just trying to catch my breath. I feel the second half about to hit.

I am extremely grateful for those kind people who have helped me through this time. My life has been in pure turmoil for the last year. I have struggled and fought for each and every inch I have gained in my life. I have been finding my way through this fog and have done well from the outside. Inside, I am not sure if I have done enough to recover/

I will continue to fight and write and tell my store of how I feel and what it is like for you to read. I will continue to fight my brain and try to find the peace in my head to be able to relax. I hope, pray, and beg that I will be taken seriously. I will continue to buy and give away stuffed animals and plushies to help others and myself.

#hugaplushie my friends

Gathering happiness

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A HUGE shoutout to two of my Patreons for helping support me, Charles and Ed! Thank you for supporting me and making this possible! You two are truly amazing people! If you had not checked it out, Check out my Patreon page for early blog posts and more!  Patreon-My Stuffed Little Therapy

I had a recent social media post that was quite touching. I has been a rough time with pain lately and I was needing a boost. I posted a simple question.31281389_10215970592927716_4009656226335121420_n.jpg

This sparked a wonderfully long post with friends and family commenting from all over. I was flooded with memories from childhood, college, present day, all warm fuzzy feelings.

It was fantastic.

As some who has suffered from depression in the past and who continues to struggle with anxiety even now, it was an amazing feeling. The self worth went through the roof. Seeing people post, some I had not talked to in years, was amazing. The love and care that was shared was immeasurable. This got me thinking of what this could do for people who are struggling? I know I pull up the post and have read it a few times since. Seeing the kind, wonderful words brings back the same self-worth growth and warms me inside.

I have seen a lot of suicides in the news lately. A lot of people who are depressed and decide that ending the pain and personal suffering is the best choice. Having been at that end twice now, I know what runs through someones mind. You don’t look upon yourself as a person. You are a burden. You don’t see what other actually think about you. You see a drag on all your friends and family. Your brain tells you that you are not and will not be good enough for anyone.

We need to break that cycle of self doubt.

I challenge you to post this to your social media. Make the post and see what happens. Save the answers you get. Use it as another weapon to fight back the hard times. See what others took the time out of their day to say to you. Smile in the memories shared but not only you but others. Have a written document were people see the value in you. Have yet another tool, like stuffed therapy, to fight back. Even if it is against your own mind.

I will do my best to comment my memory as well.

#hugapony everyone.

Doctor New

/ Daniel/Codefreak / 2 Comments

I have had a lot of people ask me about when I am getting a new doctor. I have talked about how my last doctor retired and the one before that gave up on me as a patient. I have been through a terrible run of doctors in my life and they are usually not my favorite people.

Having a chronic illness mess going to the doctor a lot. Having an illness that a third of the medical community believes does not exist, another third that it is a mental issue, and only the last third that it is real is never a fun fight. Also being a guy, being diagnosed fibromyalgia is a an odd one as it effects women much more than men by a margin of 5/1. This is a fight I am used to with having to explain, yet again, that I have this illness and yes I need help.

I did my research on my doctor. Google reviews, doctor review sites, even your own insurance will sometimes have ratings on doctors. I highly recommend to everyone to look into your doctor, see what people are saying about him/her. See if they have dealt with your issue or see the personality of the staff. You have the power to see and choose your doctor. You have the power to find a new doctor. You do not have to stay with a bad doctor. I feel that a lot of those with chronic illnesses feel they have to stay with the doctor that they go to the first time and are stuck with them forever. If you feel the doctor is not listening to you, you can find someone different who will. If you feel the doctor has given up on you, get a second opinion. Find a good one.

I took my wife and baby with me for moral support. I had several panic attacks leading up to actually seeing the doctor. I get worried that he would not listen to me or would, irrationally, make fun of me. I have had doctors tell me that I was imagining things or that I was wrong about an illness and then I was proven right at a later date. I go in early, fill out my paperwork and wait. I am then taken to get my vitals taken and go into the patient room.

The doctor comes in, introduces himself, and asks what is going on. I explain I am due for a 3 month checkup and am due for a refill on my perceptions. I am explain that my last doctor retired and was looking for a new primary. He looked at me sternly and and questioned my medical history. I told him who diagnosed me, how many procedures I have been through, the tests run on me. He watched me carefully and informed me that I was on an opioid and started to tell me the dangers of the drugs I was on and that he did not believe that I should be on them. He said he would need a drug test and a blood test to confirm that I was the one actually taking them and I wasn’t selling them. I said OK as I was taking my medications correctly. He informed me that many people had been dying on the exact medication I was one.

This was not looking good so far.

I was starting to panic because I was feeling attacked. I, once again, was having to prove to another stranger that I was sick. I had been through so all this be before. I was given a cup to pee into and waited for the results. He came in to inform me that the test did not show the opioids I was taking and that he wanted more information. He asked for the names of all the doctors I had had, where their offices were at, who gave me the actually diagnosis. I grew frustrated. I give him all the info I had. He said the nurse would be in for the drug test in a min and gave me the physical exam. I winced and groaned as he pressed and push on the points of tenderness and he seemed surprised. He poked like someone who was expecting not to find something. He pressed a lot harder than I expect at first and then he realized he was hurting me. He had me sit up and left to get the nurse for the drug test.

I was embarrassed at all this. I was angry. I complained to my wife. I was frustrated. She gave me some amazing clarity. She told me to stand in the doctor’s shoes. I was a new patient, with an uncommon illness, asking for a drug that he believed to be dangerous, coming from a doctor who “retired” and had a urine sample that showed I was not taking  my medication. She asked if I was in his shoes if I would be suspicious. I said she had a point and kept pushing through.

My blood was drawn. I hate this more than anything. I had a nurse once hit the nerve in my arm and my arm went numb for almost a week. This nurse had to go get someone else as well making it last even longer. Then they had to switch arms. I struggled with it all and squeezed my little Fluttershy plush hard.

The doctor came back in and told me he was able to pull some of my records. He was going to refill my medications but that he wanted to go through the active medication list as it had some discrepancies. Evidently it showed multiple duplicate medications. I cleared them up and was gave information on each on and what had happened.

The doctor finally showed some compassion and started listening to me. He asked to hold the baby and started asking questions instead of demanding them. Hr told me that my medicine was not what he wanted me on but he wanted to try a new one to help ease the inflammation as he thought that it would help me a lot more. He was surprised that no one had tried it before. He agreed that I should have my doses increased as I was having more pain and needed more help.

We finished up, got my paperwork in order and I thanked him and left. I thanked my wife for giving me clarity and calling me out on being too judgmental. We talked about how organized this doctor was and how I had so many red flags that probably set off alarms all the way to Washington, DC. He had refilled my prescriptions, even if he didn’t agree with all of them, and had given me a new one to help me out.

We both had prejudices that we had to overcome. I was forced to look at the other side. It is always interesting walking in someone else’s shoes. I know I can get wrapped up in my own prejudices when it comes to my illness. I am glad I overcame them.

#hugapony my friends

Pleasant Company.

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Over the past few weeks I have been introduced to many people who suffer from chronic illnesses and disabilities. Some online through blog posts, some through video games, and others in real life. I have gotten to talk and help quite a few people who are suffering. I have seen people in so much worse situations and see them powering through with a strength that makes me ashamed of myself.

In my opinion, everyone who suffers like this goes through a period of time when they question themselves on how much suffering they go through. I have been hit hard this last week. I have question how bad am I, what level pain should I admit too, and what right do I have to suffer in all my suffering. One of my issues with invisible illnesses is that I am in constant stress over being judged on how I look. “You don’t look sick” “Are you sure you aren’t feeling well” “It can’t be that bad if you are still able to walk around your house” Words ring in my ears and brain, reminding me that it must all be in my head. Famous words for anyone suffering from fibromyalgia as most doctors are quick to through them out.

I have had personal events happen that reinforce this. I have been denied disability. I submitted to the 8 month long process that took place and have seen more doctors and nurse than I care to admit. Being weighed and measured, poked and prodded has been an absolute nightmare. I suffered through it and in the end I was deemed too fit to be on disability. In the end letter, it was determined that I did suffer from fibromyalgia, insomnia, anxiety disorder, nerve pain, muscle pain and more. A total of 9 severe problems with my health. They did not find these severe enough to warrant me disabled. My final icing on the cake was reading on of the last lines in my letter saying: “If your job is too difficult for your condition, find an easier job.” My mind’s sarcastic response was “Sure I’ll go to the job tree and pick a new job straight off the branch.”

I have also had to fight with new insurance and new medications. I have been prescribed Lyrica. This is the first drug that I have seen that is specifically made for fibromyalgia sufferers. Being new, it is expensive. The classification it has been giving by insurance is that unless every other test and drug has been used and found not to work, then they will not pay for it. Fighting to get help is one of the most common themes I see in chronic illness patients. As if we didn’t suffer enough.

In my recent post that has been published, I have been able to interact with many people that have a myriad of different conditions. I have wept over reading the stories of those who have suffered. I have talked and comforted those who asked. I have been praised for helping raise our voice so others can see. In all of this, I look back at myself and ask “Am I really that sick?” Do I have the right to be a voice if I am not suffering as much as those around me. I am constantly questioned on how bad my pain and condition is that I am beginning to question myself. Yes, I have pain but is it bad enough.

I read an article recently that brought it to light for me. Erin from The Mighty.com posted on how Doctors are Advocating on Pain Acceptance. Doctors are now looking into “pain acceptance” as a treatment philosophy. It is an eye opening to see the direction this is going. As someone who suffers, I find it interesting to see that not believing chronic pain sufferers is a new direction to go. To be told that we should learn to live with the pain is insulting. To be told that my opinion, the patient’s opinion is not considered and the doctor’s view of my pain and condition makes me all the more fearful of doctors who don’t listen. Being told that I should just accept and live in pain, which is something I do every day, makes my and so many other voices sound like we are complainers.

It is infuriating.

If anything I have seen over these past few weeks is how many there are of us. It has shown me that we need a voice. It has shown that I matter. It has shown me more kind and compassionate people who, suffering like me, agree that we are not being heard. We have to fight our illness. We have to fight for our diagnosis. We have to sometimes fight our doctors and pharmacies and lawmakers. We have to fight to make our voices heard.

Thank you all for the pleasant company.

#hugapony my friends.

World War me.

/ Daniel/Codefreak / 1 Comment

I am recovering from my last convention and am trying to regain lost rest and sleep. I want to thank everyone who came out to visit and I plan on special post for all of you. I am humbled and honored by the response that was given. It meant as much to me as to you.

I have been diagnosed Fibromyalgia, panic disorder, insomnia, and quite a few other conditions for 5 years now. I have experienced a lot and have struggled to find the help I need to make it through my day to day routine much less when life throws me curve balls. I have tried and put into place all manner of methods of managing my conditions. I have changed diet, put in a modified exercise regiment, and adjusted my life to fit my condition.

I also take prescribed opioids.

News outlets have been reporting on the “Opioid Crisis” that has arisen. They talk about the real effects on people’s lives. They talk about the families being torn apart with the misuse of the drug. They are representing every side of the issue.

Except mine.

I, like many other chronic illness sufferers, rely on the use of these drugs to lead somewhat regular lives. Understandably we do not represent all responsible opioid use. However, we do regularly get added to the group of opioid abusers. The news loves to report the numbers of total users or the max number of prescribed people in US. Using these numbers all kinds of data can be thrown around as to the approximate number of abusers. I am not ignoring the rising numbers of opioid related deaths, I fear that too many people are caught up in the panic and it is hurting the people who need the help.

I have recently changed pharmacies due to the national response. CVS has come out to say that they will not prescribe more than a weeks worth of an opioid to cut down on the number of pills in the public. This hurts in several ways. I now have more co-pays to look forward to paying. I now have the stress of going to the pharmacy once a week instead of once a month. I get to be faced with the pharmacy techs who judge me on my condition. They have to evaluate what I take, how many I take, and how often I take it to ensure that I am doing everything correctly.

It can be humiliating and debilitating.

It can also lead to them to refusing to fill a medication. When I was first being diagnosed, I had a tech tell me I couldn’t have any more medication, even though I was taking them as prescribed (Post is here “Anxiety now?“). I have also been through the panic of not being able to see the doctor in time or canceling my appointment so I end up running out before I can get the help I need (Oh Day of days). It is so tight now, my new doctor has a new form that I had to fill out saying I have to bring all my meds into the office each visit and be subjected to random pill count checks.

To quote a friend, “This is victim shaming.”

“We are not getting the prescribed medications from our dealer or a junkie. We getting these medications from a licensed doctor who has examined, poked, prodded, and run tests to find out what can help. We are not using these pills for recreational use. We are using them so we can get out of bed and live a somewhat normal and have a job.”

This is a crisis. My crisis. My own personal war inside me. I have to fight to get help. I have to fight to get time to go to the doctor each time. Taking off work to go see a doctor takes a lot of time and most jobs are not forgiving. I have to look at what I have and ration. I have several medications that are “As needed”. Do I take them now when I am having a rough day or do I save it in case I have a worse day? Why do I have to choose?  Who is speaking for me? For us?

I am only one small voice on a small platform.

I am speaking up.

Don’t forget us in the crisis.

#hugaplushie my friends.

 

 

 

Our daily choice.

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I read an article that had something that struck a cord with me. I have heard the saying “just be happy and you will be happy” or “why don’t you just feel happy” or my favorite “you are choosing to be depressed”. I read the following and I was taken back. It fits so well.

If I told someone who was happy right now to be sad, they would likely have a hard time doing so. The opposite is quite true. 

I do want to give credit to the writer. The rest of the article is here.

https://themighty.com/2016/04/happiness-as-a-choice-meme-feeds-stigma-around-mental-illness/
I think we need to shout this out more for the people in the back to hear.

#hugapony my friends