The Myth: Somebody who avoids social interaction is “antisocial”.

This is mostly a semantic error, which is why I put it in tenth place. Many people refer to someone who is reluctant to participate in social situations as “antisocial”. In fact, these people are often pro-social, even unusually so.

Antisocial Personality Disorder is diagnosed in adults who consistently ignore the rights of others by behaving violently, lying, stealing, or generally acting recklessly with no concern for the safety of themselves or others. They are often extroverted and very much the opposite of the type of people who are so often called “antisocial”, who usually care very much about other people’s feelings. These people are usually just shy or have some form of autism, depression, social anxiety disorder, or avoidant personality disorder (AvPD). AvPD, which is diagnosed in people who avoid social interaction because of an intense fear of being rejected, is probably part of the reason for this confusion. The two personality disorders, after all, have pretty similar names, even if they are entirely different things.

Sometimes the Depression Self-Screening Tests are just too clinical, and the symptoms don’t really “click” with you. The criteria may seem general, and if you’re suffering from depression, specifics are easier to understand.

I know that I might not have diagnosed myself with depression just on the basis of those symptoms. I had no change in appetite, and no sleep problems.  (For me, getting out of bed was what was difficult.) Below are some un-clinical symptoms.

1. Things just seem “off” or “wrong.”

2. You don’t feel hopeful or happy about anything in your life.

3. You’re crying a lot for no apparent reason, either at nothing, or something that normally would be insignificant.

4. You feel like you’re moving (and thinking) in slow motion.

5. Getting up in the morning requires a lot of effort.

6. Carrying on a normal conversation is a struggle. You can’t seem to express yourself.

7. You’re having trouble making simple decisions.

8. Your friends and family really irritate you.

9. You’re not sure if you still love your spouse/significant other.

10. Smiling feels stiff and awkward. It’s like your smiling muscles are frozen.

11. It seems like there’s a glass wall between you and the rest of the world...

Get the full list at To Save a Life.

http://www.tosavealife.com/23-unclinical-signs-of-depression/

In seventh grade, I was enrolled in a music composition class. Every Friday, students were allowed to bring in a CD and lyric sheets to share with the rest of the room to discuss and analyze a chosen song. Because my favorite band was Blink-182 shortly before it was my turn, I opted to showcase “Adam’s Song” to my fellow classmates. I never had the chance to actually do so, however, because after printing 20 copies of the lyrics, which tell a tale of suicide and depression, an administrator ushered me into their office and asked me if my decision to bring this track into my very small, very sheltered middle school was an attempt to express my own struggles with mental health.

I hadn’t really considered the definition of “mental health” before this incident, perhaps because I was more concerned with my own physical health at that point trying countless physical therapy methods to combat cerebral palsy. As I grew older and my love of music became more important to me, I came to understand that one’s mental health and one’s favorite songs could work together as a coping mechanism or loudspeaker for one’s own personal battles. I’m not alone in this mindset, even though those that share my viewpoint realize that the music industry needs to adapt if fans are ever going to talk about mental health openly.

“There's a constant dialogue of mental health in my lyrics. Since I started writing songs, I've used it as a cathartic release for my anger, depression and, rarely, joy,” Antarctigo Vespucci co-frontman Chris Farren explains. “I'm grateful to be able to do it for a living because I'm constantly forced to face my own faults and not become complacent in my emotions.”

Before founding his current project with former Bomb the Music Industry! founder Jeff Rosenstock, he turned a band name he came up with at 16, Fake Problems, into a celebrated, if underrated, rock outfit. “At the time, I felt misunderstood and like an outcast. I had all of these songs about my feelings and I felt ashamed of that, so in a self-deprecating precautionary move I labeled the project Fake Problems. In my head it kind of took away the power from anyone who wanted to make fun of me for expressing myself.”

While that group seems to be on an extended break, the Florida-based songwriter still continues his mission to articulate his own mental health, through therapy or a musical outlet. Last holiday season, proceeds from his digital-only Christmas album Like A Gift From God Or Whatever were forwarded to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), The decision to transform a ridiculous solo endeavor into a charitable venture came from the desire to expand his understanding of the larger world he teases in his songwriting. As he elaborates, “I've struggled with anxiety and depression for a few years now…but I wanted to know more beyond my own experience. I wanted to align myself with an organization that would help me do that, or force me to do that, really.”

The nationwide touring cycles and constant buzz surrounding Boston indie quartet Somos forced vocalist and bassist Michael Fiorentino to confront mental health in a way that alerted fans and media outlets alike. Earlier this year, he revealed his struggles with depression and anxiety and announced Somos would cancel a series of dates supporting the emo-rock band Dads. “The break of several months between our first national tour with Modern Baseball [in winter 2014] and [this spring’s] Tigers Jaw tour provided us with much-needed time to recharge. In a very basic sense, I used that time to start seeking treatment. If we had gone on the Dads tour, I think the band would have imploded by the end of it.” For someone who ended the explosive Temple Of Plenty with a rallying cry (“Repair, it’s what urgently needed, young man”), it’s a far more resounding statement to follow through on one’s own advice.

For acts anticipating loaded show schedules, Christian Holden, vocalist and bassist of the Hotelier, believes in the importance of self-care. “Touring kind of destroys your body, so exercising and not eating $500 worth of Taco Bell is a good start. Taking care of your body is like good practice of self-care in general. But also, forgiving yourself for not taking care of your body works, too.” This steady balance of learning to put one’s self first––and understanding when snags occur in that routine––are part of a larger reminder, to “make sure [someone is] being self-determined and empowered” whenever that seems possible and safe.

The issue of safety can be applied to musical situations which call for physical comfort (see my last column on accessibility at Warped Tour), but also those which require emotional and mental well-being. For Judy Hong, operating Quiet Year Records in a localized, DIY-minded hub in central Virginia has underlined the need for safe spaces which respect the entire spectrum of personal pathways which intersect in any growing arts community. “Imagine you’re in a climate where you feel unsafe, or that you’re not going to be heard or that you’re alone. There’s no foundation, support or care there. We create the scene that we want to be a part of, which means that confronting things like low self-esteem, self-hatred, body image issues and even race, class and privilege needs to happen; they’re part of the wider world we live in. When people come together and make things more equal…they’re changing the way that things can be talked about when you do things compassionately and out of love.” While mental health and maintaining self-care is by definition an individual journey, Hong believes better understanding of this human experience needs to be achieved in these larger, music-driven groups. “It’s weird … because no one likes to talk to one another about their feelings or confront their friends or have to experience negative emotions because there’s no script for it … I feel like those that need to scrape by with their music need to scrape hard, so everyone just needs to look out for each other.” The upstart label owner also hints at a concept that, even as a person with a fair deal of knowledge about disability culture, I was unfamiliar with: structural disability. Buildings that tend to have features which can be overwhelming for those with physical disabilities, such as a doorway that isn’t wide enough to accommodate a wheelchair, are structurally disabled...

Get the full story at Alternative Press.

http://www.altpress.com/features/entry/tomorrow_holds_such_better_days_on_music_and_mental_health

Picture this. A room that is dark, as if someone had just closed the door.

Swirling around in the half-light are memories from my life and on the floor, unable to move, is me.

This is a picture of my schizophrenia.

I picture this because schizophrenia tries to punish me at every turn. If I win a medal, my mind will turn it into the shallowness of competition. If I kiss a loved one goodnight, my mind will ridicule me for showing emotion. It will attempt to do it with even the most mundane thoughts.

I’ve lived with schizophrenia for nearly 15 years. Where I was at the beginning of my illness to where I am now has changed dramatically in colour, shape and perception.

Through our varied understanding we all gain unique perspectives of mental illness. Through the years these perspectives change. So does our view on how mental health, or illness should be portrayed...

Read the rest of his piece at ABC Open.

https://open.abc.net.au/explore/97943

And think about it. There are far more things that most people with disabilities can do than not do, making them pretty darned ordinary, in other words, just like the rest of us.

Why should what they are not able to do define how others view them, namely, as disabled, when, based on my experience with people with disabilities, they don't define themselves that way? What they are not able to do shouldn't determine how others look at them any more than my not being able to sing well should influence how people see me.

Realistically, it's not surprising for people to develop certain perceptions about people with disabilities. We naturally make judgments based on information that is most readily available. And their disabilities are most obvious, whereas it isn't always clear all of the abilities they possess, such as incisive thinking, a sense of humor or compassion. I've found that, once I spent time with people with disabilities, their disabilities faded into the background as who they were and what they were capable of, unbound from their disabilities, became more evident. People with disabilities became just people.

We also have a tendency to idolize people with disabilities, to see them as courageous and as inspirations for all of us. We marvel at how they overcome their disabilities to compete in marathons, get college degrees, or establish successful careers. We think they are somehow special and we want to learn how they have coped with their difficult lives in the hope that we can use those lessons to overcome the comparatively minor challenges we face in our own lives...


Read the full article at Huffington Post

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-jim-taylor/were-all-disabled_b_5207412.html

May 14, 2014 by Mike Ehrmantrout

I have heard a phrase repeated by some in the mental health community. “We just want to be treated like everyone else.” Really? I don’t. Why? Because I certainly am not like everyone else and if you apply their standards to me I lose.

Another thing I’ve heard. People with mental illness should be held accountable for their actions just like everyone else—there it is again, “just like everyone else.” I understand the sentiment. It may be what they’re saying is “we don’t want to be discriminated against. Treat us like everyone else.”

Whatever the case, I believe we must accept that the mentally ill, as a people group in our society, are unique in our society.

I’m not advocating that mentally ill people not be held accountable for their actions. I reject that. What I’m saying is people with mental illness deserve to have others in society show some compassion and acknowledge the plight of the sufferer.

I believe our society has developed what I call a compassion deficit. It seems to be the prevailing attitude of a majority of people that each of us should be treated like everyone else. That largely precludes compassion, because if we’re all the same, why would we even need compassion at all?

This compassion deficit can be seen in some situations mostly all of us encounter at some point. For example, you put in a hard day’s work, then stop by the grocery store to pick up some things. While in line, you see a person with a bunch of unhealthy food. Maybe they are purchasing a pack of cigarettes or a six-pack of beer. When it’s time to pay, the person pays for the food with food stamps.

I’ve talked to so many people who’ve been in that situation, and most invariably say the same thing. “I work my butt off so this loser can buy junk food and beer? What he needs to do is get a haircut and a job!”

I’ve certainly been in that situation myself and reacted just that way, instead of thinking, “it must be hard to have to be on food stamps in order to feed yourself and your family. I wonder what his story is.”

Some of course will say the one to have compassion for is the person who works all day to help pay for the food stamp guy. Understandable. It sounds so righteous, but really, who are we to judge?

We have absolutely no idea what this person has experienced in their life, what illnesses they might have or have had, what their family situation is, the traumas they’ve suffered, nothing. All we know is the person uses food stamps.

 Read the full article at Healthy Place

http://www.healthyplace.com/blogs/recoveringfrommentalillness/2014/05/compassion-is-needed-for-the-mentally-ill/

Psychological disorders, including depression, bipolar disorder and trauma-related disorders, are rampant among inmates, and mental illness itself is a risk factor for landing in jail.

“We’ve, frankly, criminalized the mentally ill, and used local jails as de facto mental health institutions,” said Alex Briscoe, the health director for Alameda County in northern California.

The statistics paint a stark picture, with mental illness affecting a greater percentage of jailed women than men:

The Affordable Care Act — and its expansion of Medicaid — is expected to connect previously uninsured ex-offenders with medical care and mental health treatment.

But in the short term, jails and prisons remain the places where those with severe psychosis are housed: There are now three times more people with serious mental illness incarcerated in the United States than in hospitals, and the types of behavioral and mental health problems among inmates are becoming more severe.

> Stopping The Assault: Public Vengeance for Kelly Thomas 

> A NIGHTMARE OF PRISON MENTAL HEALTH

Terry Monkaba is talking about her son Ben, and the prospect of him finding a job at a Las Vegas casino.

Many parents might feel that way, but Monkaba's anxiety goes deeper. That's because Ben, 28, has Williams Syndrome.

Once called "cocktail personality syndrome," Williams Syndrome — particularly as it affects children — has captivated science writers for the past decade.

In 2008's Musicophilia: Tales of Music and the Brain, Oliver Sacks describes visiting Berkshire Hills Music Academy, where he was immediately received by unusually friendly children.

"They all seemed extraordinarily sociable and inquisitive," he writes, "and though I had met none of these campers before, they instantly greeted me in the most friendly and familiar way — I could have been an old friend or an uncle, rather than a stranger."

Strangers were also the topic of Alix Spiegel's 2010 NPR series on Williams Syndrome, where she told the story of a nine year-old girl named Isabelle. In one segment, Isabelle, who has Williams Syndrome, practices role-playing exercises that teach her the concept of distrust.

"Hello little girl, do you want to see my puppy?" Isabelle's mom practices with her.

"No way," recites Isabelle obediently.

"But my puppy's so cute! Are you sure?" prods her mom, the "stranger."

"Yes," says Isabelle.

"Come over here, I've got some candy too!"

[Sound of internal struggle from Isabelle]

"C'mon, come into my car and I'll show you," her mom tempts.

And with that, after holding out against puppies and candy, it's the offer of companionship that finally breaks Isabelle down. "Ok," she relents, as though she can't help but accept.

But adults with Williams Syndrome have received less attention in the media, partially because their condition predisposes them to diseases that shorten their life span, like diabetes and congenital heart defects, and partially because, as a science writer, children who instantly tell you they love you make for adorable story subjects.

Adults with Williams, however, have a vastly different set of challenges than their younger counterparts. After a lifetime of parents and caretakers constantly watching out for their safety, can they learn how to protect themselves? Move independently in the world? And can they take on that hallowed marker of adulthood: a job?

Just a heads up: many of these comics deal with self-harm, suicide, and other issues that can be triggering to some individuals.

Darryl Cunningham worked as a nursing assistant in a psychiatric ward and witnessed the realities of mental illnesses and their symptoms. Psychiatric Tales combines science, history, and anecdotes to demystify and destigmatize mental illness, and Cunningham's stark artwork can be deeply affecting. You can read portions of Psychiatric Tales online in their pre-press form, including "People With Mental Illness Enhance Our Lives," "Dementia Ward," "Suicide,""Schizophrenia," "Cut and Delusions," and the last chapter.

Allie Brosh turns her manic humor on her own depression in a pair of comics that are both deeply personal and explain brilliantly the sense of hopelessness, exhaustion, and self-loathing that comes with depression. It's also a reminder that relief can come from unexpected (and sometimes completely nonsensical) places, like a shriveled-up piece of corn found beneath the refrigerator.

When cartoonist Ellen Forney was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, she was in a manic phase and not eager to seek treatment, fearing that medication would impair her creativity. But after she was hit with a major depressive episode, she started her journey toward reconciling her illness and treatment with her creative life. Marbles is a look at bipolar disorder from the inside, capturing the seductive qualities of mania and the ambivalence some people feel about treatment and medication.

The artist once famous for The Thin H Line and Sexy Losers (both NSFW) has created a sometimes gut-wrenching, sometimes tender, often relatable series of comics about the daily struggles of life with depression. Decidedly unclinical, depression comix instead gets into the heads of depression sufferers and the people around them, exposing many of the tragedies of depression: how it encourages sufferers to mask their true feelings, the sense of worthlessness that comes with the illness, and how sufferers can shove friends away just when they're desperately in need of social support. However, he'll also capture the occasional moment of happiness and love.