After a whole week (read: life) of bitching about annoying, unrealistic representations of mental health, this weekend I watched something awesome. I know, real scary territory for me, not being able to be mad and ranting, but instead be proud and appreciative of something. It's very fresh and exciting for me. 

ANYWAY. 

With too much self-deprecating fanfare coming with it, enter the Amazon Prime original, Undone.

​So, there’s this guy in my life named Jasper.

And no, not my wonderful boyfriend I mention on here, though i definitely could do hundreds of appreciation posts on him.

No, this guy is a little bit smaller and a lot hairier. And yes, I know this bit is old but I couldn’t help myself.
Today, I wanted to talk about the love of my life, my goon-bug, my fluffy pumpkin, Jasper.

A little back story. Jasper is an all-black Italian Greyhound mix from California. He was found a stray but got picked up by a rescue group and brought to Washington state. Our theory is that someone let their full-breed, untouched Iggy out a little too much and they got pregnant. And then they let the babies go. Why? Because full bred Iggy’s are an expensive, popular breed and knowing this boy, he didn’t go anywhere without someone deliberately dropping him off.

My boyfriend and I have wanted a dog since college, but we were moving across state and the first place we found did not allow pets. We accepted that, but it didn’t stop us from looking.

Around March of 2018, I found this adorable little fluff on AdoptAPet named Jasper. He was at a local rescue and had the sweetest face. He has big, dark eyes and just looked so hopeful. There even was a video of him running, and he looked so overjoyed.

I loved him. He was my favorite dog I saw. But I never expected him to be available by the time we could get a dog, in June.

Months slowly roll by, and I was still looking. Every time I was shocked to see the little dark cuddle-ball was still up and open for adoption. I was floored. How could anyone look at his face and not want him?

Then it was June 7th, and our landlord approved us getting a pet. Even better, Jasper’s rescue had a meet and greet at our local Petsmart that Saturday. I emailed them if they could bring him; they said sure.

The second that boy walked through the door, I loved him. Obsessed with cheese and a little jumpy, he was so happy to lick our faces and decide that we were his. It was a whirlwind. Within half an hour, on June 9th, he was ours. And when we brought him home? He jumped onto the corner of our couch like it had always been his spot. He’s there right now, napping among all his favorite blankets.

I never knew I could love anyone like I love him. Yes, I love my boyfriend, but a caretaker role is so much different than loving someone like an equal partner. He is my baby and I love to see him doggy smile up at me. I’d do anything to make him happy.

And the best part is he’d do anything to make me happy, too. I’ve never met a dog so attuned with emotions. When people are sad or stressed out, he is desperate to get close and make them feel comfy and loved. He’s energetic and a morning dog, but days I feel horrible? He is happy to stay in bed with me and just keep me company.

People often question the aptitude of mentally ill people when it comes to caring for other living beings. But I think this kind of love helps make me more capable to do everything. Even on my worst days, I always make sure he is cared for. He is what gets me up when I’d rather fade into my bed. Loving him so much gave me that intrinsic motivation to be a little better, not anything else.

I’ve been fairly stable most of my time with my little handsome guy, so its not fair to say he saved my life. But he does improve my life in every way and makes me a better human, mental illness and all. I’m sure my eventual children will one day be the same.

So no one should dare tell me or anyone else what they’re capable of, not unless thy are a medical professional with specialties in my disorders. Otherwise, I’m the only one who can figure that out.
​
And I can thank Jasper for reminding me how capable I can be, even when I’m not okay.

​Author's Note: this is a blog from my previous site, but it had such a good impact on people that I wanted to make sure it was brought over. It's still just as important as when I first wrote it. 

2019’s The Joker is hands down the most traumatic and triggering mental health portrayal that I’ve seen in years, and not in any sort of positive way.

Anyone whose been here before, you’ve heard this phrase from me many times, but I am happy to say it again: the mentally ill are not just martyrs or villains. They are people.

And somehow The Joker makes Arthur Fleck both a martyr and a villain while playing hard and loose with his humanity. And watching it in a theater, hearing people laugh and cheer and play sinister music over moments that looked like stories I’d heard from people like me or experienced myself?

I had never felt so fucking dehumanized.