Inclusion Matters: Guest post by Lyra Swann

Trigger Warning: discussion of suicide.

We are happy to welcome a guest post by a new writer, Lyra Swann from the UK (not her real name).  We always welcome guest posts and we have a standing invitation - just get in touch.  We can do it under real name, pseudonym, completely anonymous, whatever works for you. 

Inclusion Matters

You’ve probably just read the above words and nodded. After all, this is 2018. Equality and Diversity are buzzwords floating around organisations, and companies can’t get enough of the chance to look like they care and market themselves at the same time. Pride flags painted on trains; Primark T-shirts; blah blah blah.

But before we let ourselves get wrapped up in rainbow-coloured merchandise, let me tell you a story about inclusion, about acceptance, and what it *actually* means.

I’m a queer-identified feminist with strong liberal views from a non-nuclear family background. I’m self-assured and can be quite outspoken when I want to be. “Don’t fuck the patriarchy because the patriarchy can go fuck itself.” That sort of thing.

I’m also married. My partner is from a very traditional family. So traditional that the fifties are far too modern for them. They’re anti-feminist, Conservative, imperialist, global warming sceptics. Y’know, the type who think that the best thing a woman can do is to raise a family.

Now, my partner doesn’t share those beliefs. But whenever I spend time with my in-laws, I have to bite my tongue so often that I almost gag. I don’t want to be controversial, and I don’t want to start an argument. So I try and keep my head down and play the good daughter-in-law. But I cannot be myself in any way around them. I have to suppress all of my views, my sexuality and literally everything else that makes me *me*. That, my friends, is an oppressive environment.

My in-laws live a good distance away and I only see them a handful of times a year. They mean well, and they care about my partner and me. They don’t have any jurisdiction in how we live our lives. So by and large, I don’t actively think about them much. And until recently, I thought their influence on our lives was fairly limited.

But the truth is that influence spreads far further than it seems to. Although I only spent a few days a year hearing the views of my in-laws, these permeated my thinking to its core. They affected every part of our relationship. I cared about what my in-laws think of me. I wanted to please them so much that I sacrificed my own identity to do so.

I wanted to be a good wife.

“A good wife?!” What kind of fucked-over queer feminist thinking is that??!

But I wanted to be accepted by my in-laws. And to be accepted, I had to play their happy-nuclear-families game. Like a good wife, I put my partner’s needs first without even thinking about it. I organised my life around them, and felt grateful for the privilege of doing so. I was there whenever they needed me, for whatever they needed me for. And I ignored my own feelings – ignored them so well that I couldn’t even tell that they were there.

I did this right up until I almost killed myself.

Something in me snapped. I had ignored my own emotions so thoroughly and so adeptly that I ran straight into a full-on nervous breakdown. It was like walking off the edge of a cliff. I was broken, in pieces, unable to see or think anything. It hurt so much that I was in constant agonising physical pain, that slicing my wrists was a relief from the constant mental anguish.

You see, in wanting to be the image of the ‘good wife’, I was oppressing myself. In order to fit with ideals that I didn’t share, for people I rarely see. The oppressive environment that I felt inside their house actually extended right into my head. I couldn’t accept myself for who I was because that didn’t fit with who I thought I ought to be.

My partner and I tried to fit our relationship into the heteronormative mould, and it broke. We tried to play the good couple, and it broke both of us. We lost ourselves inside that ideal of man plus woman. We’re each starting out on separate journeys to discover our own identities. I’m still working on self-acceptance.

The effects of non-acceptance extend *way* beyond the arena you see it in.

Someone’s views can be oppressive even if they mean well.

Oppressive views still affect us even if we don’t agree with them.

Not all exclusion is overt. In fact, most is not.

We all need to be accepted for who we are.

The outcast dips lower

My parents are older; they had me in their forties. I am in my mid twenties. Many of their cousins are now passing, and recently (maybe last year?) my aunt on my father's side. The notion of aging and disease has been common in our conversations for a good couple years. I am not numb to it, but it just is what it is. This is not to say I don't think aging concerns or even death related notions in terms of getting older are not valid. They are. They are just different than spontaneous death occurrences. 

This is what I mean: I was online and came across a name of a guy who went to grade school with me. He had died last year. At first the name sounded familiar, but it wasn't until I saw the pictures that I remembered who he was. I read through a whole page dedicated to memories from family and friends, and I felt strange.

I would not describe me as suicidal the last couple of days, but recurring urges to hurt myself or to kill myself would float on by like those planes with messages trailing from behind. The thoughts/urges would of course be out of sight soon enough. More of an annoyance than anything. Today's thoughts are different: I should have died and not him. I don't have anyone who loves me as much as him. I did not touch that many lives. I should overdose. 

As I write these things, I can't help but go through my skill check list: 

• What happened to trigger these thoughts? 
• What was I feeling emotionally?
• What was I feeling physically? 

What happened is I tried to reach out to my once closest friend (again) who has been avoiding me because I have been so difficult to deal with. This friend did not get back to me. I felt angry. I felt stiffness in my shoulders.

I didn't at first understand why I wrote I don't have anyone who loves me as much as him. But reflecting on my answers to my skill questions, I feel like it's obvious I am feeling rejected in some sort of way. And not just by my friend. But my family. By acquaintances. 

I feel like I don't quite fit anywhere. I am in transition from going to one university to another university to begin my PhD. It's a really big deal. I am scared. When things get tough, and my mood is low, I can't help but think of escaping. But at the very least, I can sit down and identify my sources of frustration and suicidal thinking. 

I don't want to kill myself

A couple of weeks before starting Depressed Academics, I started an entirely private blog just for myself about my depression.  These are some posts collated from that.

December 28, 2012: I don't want to kill myself

I thought I should get the good news out of the way in my headline. I don't want to kill myself. But on the other hand, I think to myself "I want to kill myself" several times every day.   Sometimes I say it out loud, though almost always when I'm alone, or think I'm alone at least.

It happens after I have some negative thought.  Most commonly it's something from the past where I think I did something wrong, even if that's with hindsight.   It might happen several times in a row.   I could be happy enough and suddenly a thought comes which makes me negative and makes me think "I want to kill myself."

I know I should be able to get out of this, and I wish I could think of this great SMBC comic.   If I can successfully do that it reminds me I shouldn't let my brain do this to me.

But for now, I'll be reassured that I don't really want to kill myself.

December 28, 2012: I like SMBC!

Since writing my first and last post, I have been trying to get back into the habit of thinking of that comic when I feel something bad in my mind.

So I've been trying to stop myself saying "I want to kill myself" and replace it with "I like SMBC!" or if I don't catch it in time, saying "I like SMBC!" after "... myself".

It's been kind of working today, but I don't know if I can keep it up.

January 4, 2013: Not Been Too Bad

Since my last posts the SMBC thing has been more or less working.

I spent a day or two pretty much saying "I want to kill myself. ... no I love SMBC" or even "I want to .... love SMBC".   Over and over again, many times a day.

Since then it's slowed down, which is great.  That means that I don't tell myself I want to kill myself nearly so much.  When I do I usually catch it and am not replacing it with SMBC, but just that I don't.

And I've been a lot more cheerful.   Probably at about 1 or even sometimes 0.   On a pointer where 0 equals normality, to be described in a later post.