[It] is capable of driving people to such dangerous folly that faith seems to me to qualify as a kind of mental illness.
I don't believe anybody has a right to own any kind of a firearm. I believe in order to obtain a permit to own a firearm, that person should undergo an exhaustive criminal background check. In addition, an applicant should give up his right to privacy and submit his medical records for review to see if the person has ever had a problem with alcohol, drugs or mental illness... The Constitution doesn't count!
This is a word that is not a scientific term. This is a rhetorical tool of psychological manipulation... Because everyone knows if you dare to say homosexuality is wrong...you are a homophobe, which means you have a mental illness. That's what's built into this terminology.
It's a mental fake-out to myself. I make believe I'm making a new show so I forget the material I was working on and make up some fresh material.
I'll be the in to your sane.
You try to sit down at approximately the same time every day. This is how you train your unconscious to kick in for you creatively. ... You put a piece of paper in the typewriter, or you turn on your computer and bring up the right file. ... You begin rocking, just a little at first, and then like a huge autistic child. ... Then your mental illnesses arrive at the desk like your sickest, most secretive relatives. And they pull up chairs in a semicircle around the computer, and they try to be quiet but you know they are there with their weird coppery breath, leering at you behind your back.
If creative work protects a man against mental illness, it is small wonder that he pursues it with avidity; and even if the state of mind he is seeking to avoid is no more than a mild state of depression or apathy, this still constitutes a cogent reason for engaging in creative work even when it brings no obvious external benefit in its train.
You have good days and bad days, and depression's something that, you know, is always with you.
You have lost all delight in life. Ahead is a large array of blind alleys. You are half-deliberately, half-desperately cutting off your grip on creative life. You are becoming a neuter machine. You cannot love, even if you knew how to begin to love. Every thought is a devil, a hell-if you could do a lot of things over again, ah, how differently you would do them! You want to go home, back to the womb. You watch the world bang door after door in your face, numbly, bitterly. You have forgotten the secret you knew, once, ah, once, of being joyous, of laughing, of opening doors.
I keep wanting to crawl back into the womb.
Having to parent your mother or father is a challenge that way too many teens have to deal with. Teens whose parents are dealing with substance abuse, financial hardship, job loss, mental illness and divorce deserve our love, support, and compassion. I wish America would stop judging and criticizing teens and instead, try to understand the battles they have to fight every day.
In order to have the stuff of a tyrant, a certain mental derangement is necessary.
I was horribly depressed, and I felt like I had failed as a band leader, a professional, as a person.
I became depressed and I cut my self with scissors and stuff.
It gets on top of me and I get frustrated.
With depression, you can go in and out of it and not really know whether it's still there or not. Sometimes I'd find myself bursting into tears for no reason.
Depressions are very cyclical, they happen once every five years. When I was on TV, yes I was effervescent, you can't fake it. It [depression] comes like the pox.
I said to my doctor, 'You gotta testme, there's something wrong with me that I would be behaving this way.'
When you're depressed, everything becomes distorted.
I think it backfired. It wasn't what I expected, it was difficult. I didn't expect them to throw somany mind games into it. I didn't expect to be so emotional, but I asked for it really. I'ma glutton for punishment.
Writers can treat their mental illnesses every day.
It was clear: I was sick. I never used to dream. They say in the old days it was the most normal thing in the world to have dreams. Which makes sense: Their whole life was some kind of horrible merry-go-round of green, orange, Buddha, juice. But today we know that dreams point to a serious mental illness. And I know that up to now my brain has checked out chronometrically perfect, a mechanism without a speck of dust.
My good fortune is not that I've recovered from mental illness. I have not, nor will I ever. My good fortune lies in having found my life.
Over recent years, urbanisation, globalisation and the destruction of local cultures has led to a rise in the prevalence of mental illness in the developing world.
Stigma against mental illness is a scourge with many faces, and the medical community wears a number of those faces.
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