This is Treatment.

When this place was my livelihood I used to measure my life in “blogability.” I’d try to gauge how interesting what I was doing at any given moment would be to read about later, and then experience the event accordingly. Non-blogable events got my full presence and attention, while highly blogable events were experienced via curated eye and held at arm’s length so as not to miss any photogenic details. By my own former standards, this was a pretty bloggable week. Steven Spielberg shot part of his latest movie at my childhood home and my parents made it their #1 priority to ensure I could be there to geek out. (Thanks mom and dad!) Then BuzzFeed shut down The Wizarding World of Harry Potter so we could have it to ourselves for our company holiday party, and that was obviously totally bad ass.

Blogabble as hell, but I’m free now, so I experience my life not in bloggable moments but in actual human emotion and it is marvelous. Well, I think it has the potential to be, anyway.

There’s still the reason I made this left-turn into full-time blogging in the first place. My brain is a dirty liar and has a fucked up sense of humor, and the best medicine I’ve found is to write it all down. AKA I’m still kind of a sick puppy where my mental health is concerned, and this place (and you guys, friends and lurkers) have always been an integral part of my treatment. As I’ve mentioned, I’m an obsessive envier. Which is what was so revelatory about the Spielberg thing. To be honest: Watching someone else live the dream? (Yes, even Steven Spielberg) (Yes, I know that’s absurd) That’s the kind of thing that normally would have destroyed me for weeks.

Instead, I let myself enjoy it. Soak it in. Be a fan. Make no mistake, envy is my constant nemesis — I fight it back at every turn even on a good day. So to let go of all of that and dork out and just be able to watch this iconic director direct was really rare for me. I unabashedly lurked and listened, and took in every choice he made, and why, and I had one of the most exciting days I’ve let myself enjoy in as long as I can remember. It was just like every other set I’ve ever been on, if you’re a fellow film geek and wondering, no fireworks, nothing especially unique or magical, just every day movie-making as I’ve always known it. Except Spielberg. And there was so much inspiration in realizing that Spielberg was human.

My default setting is to think of myself as less than. Not quite good enough. Just below the threshold. I’m driven by it when it doesn’t paralyze me. Over the years I’ve gotten better at not letting it paralyze me. But lately, I’ve been feeling a lot of conflict about being medicated. There’s a lot of stigma around mental healthcare as if the brain isn’t just another organ gone haywire. And I wonder what life would feel like with, well, feeling.

This video that my colleague and friend Kelsey made hits home for me in more ways than one:

And so, I’m hard on myself about the treatment for, in part, being so hard on myself. Yesterday I lost my medication bottle (I carry it in my purse because I almost never remember to take it before I leave the house.) This morning, as I took to Facebook to let off some anxiety while waiting for any kind of doctor’s office or pharmacy to open, my friend Marinka also said something that hit home.

So I guess what I’m saying is, for me, the new blogability scale rests on only one thing: Making sure that people know that feeling this way exists — that it’s not just you. That your brain is part of your body, and there’s no shame in not being okay all the time.

This is treatment.

Feed Me Seymour