I’m not a regular writer, I’m a cool writer.

From The Writer’s Desk #5

When I was 13, I got my hands on a copy of “Prozac Nation” by Elizabeth Wurtzel somehow. And to be completely honest with you, I wish I hadn’t, because I became insufferable ever since that.

Oh, you don’t know what ‘Prozac Nation” means? Congratulations, you might be healthy mentally. I’ll tell you, though. Don’t worry. I’ll totally copy and paste a description I found online below:

“Elizabeth Wurtzel writes with her finger in the faint pulse of an overdiagnosed generation whose ruling icons are Kurt Cobain, Xanax, and pierced tongues. In this famous memoir of her bouts with depression and skirmishes with drugs, Prozac Nation is a witty and sharp account of the psychopharmacology of an era for readers of Girl, Interrupted and Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar."

“Prozac Nation”, by Elizabeth Wurtzel.

So, the book I picked up had “Prozac Nation: Being young and depressed in America” written at the cover and my thirteen year old self thought… “Huh. That sounds lovely! Such a light read, let’s do it!”

Yeah…

It was very different from “Twilight”.

And guess what? THE BOOK HAD TURNED INTO A MOVIE. And Christina Ricci played Elizabeth Wurtzel. Goddamn, here we fucking go again. Ok, hear me out, the visuals were stunning, Jessica Lange was playing Elizabeth’s mom, who’s literally out of her mind (Still very hot. Sorry.), I’m pretty sure Michelle Williams starred in that movie, too.

“Prozac Nation” (2001)

And this fueled my little puberty fried brain with many, many thoughts. One of them being: "Is having depression.. aes.. aesthe.. *says it in a very low voice*… aesthetic???”

From now on, i was changed. The book + movie combo changed me. And, of course, the ‘Carmen” music video by Lana Del Rey:

Of course, I wasn’t old enough to understand half of what had happened to Wurtzel, neither the seriousness of something like that. I was just too young and on tumblr. My friends were so confused as to why I didn’t want to play volleyball anymore, or do our own silly little choreographies of music we definitely weren’t allowed to listen. (RIP 13 year old me, you would have LOVED Chappell Roan). I couldn’t. I was “sad”. And then, I didn’t have any friends anymore because I was busy working on my ‘sad girl era’.

Although I appreciate Elizabeth Wurtzel for her strength and courage to share her story with depression, poor Liz raised a bunch of girls that would share her pictures and quotes on tumblr with that one fucking rose emoji as the bio, girls that had no idea about the struggle that having a mental disorder actually is, and just wanted to be seen in black and white.

And hey! Guess what again? By the time i was sixteen, I REALLY was depressed. And let me tell you, there’s nothing like it. (Derogatory). I could not handle any little incident that would happen to me in my life, I wouldn’t leave the house anymore and would almost develop a booze problem. Yay? Baby, that's not beautiful. Or aesthetic. That’s fucked up. And when I started taking depression meds for real, I wasn’t like ‘Oh, this is SO Prozac nation core!”. I was needing help.

So you can be sure that flashbacks of the dark age (my teenagehood) appeared on my mind when I saw the same picture of Wurtzel i used to reblog on tumblr, here, on Substack. And it was a teenage girl’s blog. And it had the most gut wrenching notes. It was like looking in a mirror in a bad, bad way. I reached out to her, and asked if she needed any help, and asked if everything was ok and she replied:

‘It’s okay girlie, i’m just so depressed because i’m getting the lowest grades at school, i have ADHD.”

“ Oh! I’m so sorry. How did you find out that you had ADHD?” - i replied.

“Self diagnosed, basically.” - she said.

And then I had the idea to write this piece. It’s so concerning how little my generation actually knew about depression and other mental illnesses because of the romantization and how this new generation is knowing even less about it. You can be sad and upset without being depressed, you can be clean and tidy and methodical without having OCD. That’s common sense.

And it makes me wonder: Where the fuck are we going with this? What are we doing?

This is serious. It is that deep. Being sad for “nothing” doesn’t exist and mental illnesses should be respected, and not be ridiculed or belittled to match your Pinterest pictures. I learned that the hard way. People don’t make songs, books and movies about their personal experiences just so that you can find it aesthetic because you’re sooo special and sooo broken. That’s a struggle you don’t get to pick. That’s a baggage you don’t get to carry. If you relate to them, i’m sorry, and if you don’t, that’s good! That’s a good thing. It’s a good thing to not be suffering all the time (also common sense).

There are many senses of self and identities to choose from on the internet, especially in your formative years, being ‘depressive’ one of them. And that’s the way it always has been. But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make me fucking livid. It makes me mad because it was a trap I fell into. And I, of course, wish I never did. I miss volleyball and dancing, even though I sucked at both. I miss acting the age I actually am! And it makes me so sad to see people are losing their senses of self by wearing what x and y are wearing, eating what they’re eating and even feeling what they’re feeling. Real art comes from the heart, as real intelligence comes from simplicity. You don’t have to have the most complex, intricate feelings in order to be the writer you have always wanted to be. I would like to see a writer that mirrors other person’s pain on their writings with the entire purpose to make that person feel seen, and reach out for help.

So dear teen reader, you know that i’m not a regular writer, I’m a cool writer (that’s a mean girls reference), so listen to me: Take your goddamn meds. You don’t write better without them. I’ve been there. Please take my word. Also, you may not have ADHD, because you need.. um.. a diagnosis, is what I believe it’s called here in the real world, yes. A diagnosis. Yeah. If you feel like you have ADHD, please go see your doctor! Being well and healthy is definitely aesthetic. It definitely is.

Anyway, if you really want to be a writer like auntie here, you have to start somewhere. Write about your own experiences!

Even though you may think they’re not special because you’re not ‘sad’ or ‘broken’, i really think they are. Yes, people relate to pain and suffering but you don’t have to induce yourself to feel something you actually don’t feel! Some of you are really talented painters and musicians, so writing about that wouldn’t be so bad. Write about your real feelings or your real experiences. (Please tag me if you do, I’d really like to read it)!

Don’t worry about your future. Life will definitely take its toll on you afterwards. Seriously, after you graduate high school, there’s no coming back. Sometimes, I feel glad teens are more focused on wearing ‘Daffy Duck’ pants and doing skincare more than anything. Besides the obvious consumerism aspect of it, it’s still so much better than what I was doing at 13. I had no business doing all that. Fuck, I miss volleyball. Should I play volleyball again? I should, shouldn’t I? Alright, alright.

*Little footnote about self diagnosis:

If mental health care is inaccessible or unaffordable, self diagnosis can be a necessary and valid option. - https://www.ucdenver.edu/student/stories/library/healthy-happy-life/down-the-rabbit-hole-of-self-diagnosis-in-mental-health

*Articles and studies I’ve read to come up with this piece:

https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/news/articles/2023/08/social-media-and-self-diagnosis

https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/royal-institute-of-philosophy-supplements/article/selfdiagnosis-in-psychiatry-and-the-distribution-of-social-resources/91A981A3908EE250DE19CF597277F197

https://search.app/KQheDN8CSRtqVp7A7

*If you’re a new friend I just made, here’s me teaching people how to be “Substack Famous” (not really):