Everybody is Depressed

By: Ali Benz

If you find yourself crying in your cubicle today, just know you are not alone. It’s mental health awareness month. Not sure if those are correlated at all, but I do know that everyone and their dog is sad. Stay strong. I thought I was in a deep depression last week when I couldn’t get out of bed. Turns out it was just the flu in the Spring. Tragic.

You may be thinking, there are so many exciting things happening in the world right now, how could anyone be upset? But the truth is, I don’t care if Meghan Markle gives birth to a boy, a girl, or a ginger. Nothing from the UK excites me besides Simon Cowell. Once I found out I had the flu it was a bittersweet moment because I knew exactly what was coming. G-d had blessed me with time off from work to start Game of Thrones. Now I’m on season four and can’t stop talking like the Lady of Winterfell.

Watching GOT may have cured my depression/flu, but you don’t realize how many people you know that are struggling every day. Sometimes it’s good to keep a zodiac friend around because they can always give you a little insight. For example, over the weekend I yelled at an innocent bartender and told him he’ll never work in this town again. Afterwards, I felt guilty because all he did was put regular olives in my martini instead of stuffed. Luckily my horoscope friend told me there was a full moon so it really wasn’t my fault. Case closed.

Everyone uses different coping mechanisms. I live by the mantra that everything happens for a reason and will fall into place. Therefore, if that bartender loses his job over the whole olive altercation, chances are it needed to happen, and I probably just changed his life. He was most likely too scared to quit his job and apply to med-school or whatever—but now he can thanks to me. At least that’s what I tell myself to go to sleep at night.

If you’re depressed and don’t feel like seeing your annoying friends, listening to music can help. Usually, I like to put on a sad song, look out the window, and pretend I’m in a music video—but to each their own. I don’t get what all the hype is about BTS. If I wanted to see a bunch of Koreans dancing I’d go to literally any place that sells bubble tea. But people seem to love these K-pop boys, so if watching them on the Billboard’s floats your boat, then so be it. Just don’t get too comfortable at the award show. It’s all fun and games until Paula Abdul moves better at sixty than you ever will in your entire life.

What I don’t recommend is seeking comfort in a past relationship. I almost unblocked my psycho ex on Instagram—mostly because I couldn’t bear to lose a follower. Then I realized I could do what every millennial girl does after a break-up and post a bikini pic captioned ~living my best life~. Guaranteed ten new followers by morning. Let that man-go. That’s why the mango was created. A gentle reminder that some relationships are meant to stay in the past. Rather than hit up a crazy ex, just do what I do and drunk-text your therapist. Very rewarding. Very safe. Therapists never screen-shot. Screen-shots lose trust. Shout-out to HIPAA.

In other exciting news to cure your spring depression, the Met Gala just happened. The theme was “Camp” and I for sure thought it meant Camp Rock. Not quite. No JoBro in sight wearing Disney-print or holding the hand of leading lady Demi Lovato? Sounds lamer than weekend two at Coachella. Once I heard that I decided #MetCamp wasn’t for me. Would rather watch the Ted Bundy documentary. Zac Efron: 10/10 would let murder.

Remember, depression comes and goes. We all feel it. We all live it. All you can do is keep pushing forward….and like/subscribe to my blog. I heard that helps too but I don’t know I’m not a doctor.

 

Smile!

 

 

Stop Glorifying Mental Disorders

By: Ali Benz

 

A wise, bi-polar man once said, “I’m a sick f*ck, I like a quick f*ck.” Due to his trendy, mental disorder, Mr. Kanye West was able to rap this line for a whopping two minutes and produce a chart-topper. Tragic.

The only people that I hate more than people about to go on Birthright are people that have just returned from birthright. No, Rachel, I don’t want to hear about your new found love for falafel or how you got felt up by an Israeli soldier on the back of a camel. But my hatred of pre and post birthright talk has recently been trumped by a new category: Our generation’s obsession with romanticizing mental disorders. I think it’s great that people are finally having this conversation and normalizing these feelings, but it’s being minimized into a hip fad just like double popped Abercrombie polos and cargo pants that zip off into shorts.

 

Leave it to Kanye West to profit off of being depressed AF. Ye recently described his bi-polar as a “superpower”, which I think is admirable that he was able to reclassify a negative stereotype into a positive, but unless he’s about to lace the new Yeezy Boosts with Prozac, he needs to be careful. The rapper has a giant platform and a huge support network unlike most. Those struggling with a mental disorder should be taught how to address it without fame, and those that don’t possess one should know it’s not something you can just catch and release like mono freshman year of college. You are not going to get a record deal and a Kardashian just because you’re manic. Shortly after West and other celebs opened up about their mental state, I got a text from a friend saying “Do you think  I have bi-polar?” To which I replied, “No, you’re just annoying.” But I’m not a doctor.

 

Speaking of doctors, I saw my physician the other day for my yearly every 5 year check-up (whoops). At the end of the sesh, she handed me a paper and said we should do a quick, regulatory depression test. Just for fun, I guess? She turned her back (for maximum privacy) and I looked down at the multiple choice quiz that would determine my mental health. LOL. The answers consisted of five levels of smiley faces that ranged from aggressive frowning to psychopathic grin. It felt kind of like a trick test, so I filled it in the same way I did every scantron senior year, “C’s” across the board, except for a few questions I found judgmental like, “Are you tired?” To which I chose a rare “E” for “Yes I’m f*cking tired.” Next question. Anyway, my point is, these doctors are so quick to diagnose and prescribe. I guess I thought the “C” smiley was giving more of a flirty smirk than a slanty cry for help, and now I’ve got a brand new Rx.

 

The glorification of mental disorders needs to seriously chill. So many struggle with depression and anxiety that can’t just be cured by the “Ye” album, even as soothing as Kid Cudi’s humming may be. This needs to be an open discussion and not a scapegoat or ambition. Also, WebMD is not your friend, it’ll just tell you that you’re dying, just like every time you dramatically search the symptoms of the common f*cking cold. Relax. You need to pay a hot, young psychiatrist $250 an hour to talk about your sh*t for ten minutes. Or you can, like, see someone ugly on your insurance. Either way. Handle it.