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Mari, the Happy Wanderer's avatar

What a beautiful and powerful essay. I agree completely that the affirmation model is pernicious. It hurts not just the sufferer, but other people as well.

I think back to my struggle with postpartum depression after my son was born. I was saved by cognitive behavioral therapy, which taught me to take responsibility for my own responses and destructive patterns of thinking. What if everyone around me had adopted the affirmation model and reinforced my feelings of inadequacy? What if every conversation had revolved around people feeling so, so, so sorry for me? What if no one expected me to take care of my son properly because it was too hard for me? I guarantee that my son and I would have been much worse off.

The affirmation model hurts other people too, because it conscripts everyone else into affirming and supporting the sufferer. People have their own issues! They have better things to do than be at the sufferer’s beck and call to support them and praise them no matter what.

I hope you are right, Freddie! Yes, we should expect support from our friends and families, but we also ought to give support in return, and maybe take some responsibility for ourselves too.

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WorriedButch's avatar

I very much grew up in the Tumblr-era world of "self diagnosis is just as valid as professional diagnosis" and saw a lot of my teenage friends try to be quirky through claiming mental illnesses. I didn't really participate at the time, but in college, I developed bipolar 1 and started having manic and depressive episodes. It was not a cute or quirky thing, but I still felt that in some way it made me a more interesting person with special experiences. I went off meds a few times to chase the manic highs and partly due to the cultural narrative of troubled people being more interesting.

At 22, after my 5th (or 6th?) psychiatric hospitalization, I had this sharp realization that it wasn't cute or quirky and was increasingly just sad and expensive. I got on meds with side effects I hate and take them religiously, go to bed by midnight, drag myself to the gym daily, work a soulless 9-5, and yet my life is much richer than it was when I was chasing that manic euphoria.

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