Friendly reminder that Vincent van Gogh willingly checked himself into an asylum so that he could get better, resulting in him creating some of the most iconic paintings of his entire career, done in the asylum, when he was being treated 24/7, because he finally didn’t have to struggle with his demons and could instead focus on his muse, WHICH WERE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS!
Remember this little insignificant painting?
How about this one?
Check this one out:
All of these and more were painted in the asylum when he was receiving treatment for his mental illnesses and I know I just said that but I said it again and I’m saying it a third time until you dramatic abled assholes understand!
VINCENT VAN GOGH
– KNEW THAT HE WAS MENTALLY ILL
– WANTED TO CHANGE THAT
– WENT TO AN ASYLUM
– GOT THE HELP HE NEEDED
– PAINTED SOME ICONIC MASTERPIECES AS A RESULT!
SO DON’T YOU DARE COME OUT HERE WITH THIS, “I WISH I WAS DEPRESSED SO I COULD BE AS CREATIVE AS VAN GOGH” BULLSHIT BECAUSE EVEN HE KNEW THAT HIS DEMONS WERE HARMING HIS WORK, AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, HIS HEALTH, AND HE DID EVERYTHING WITHIN HIS POWER TO FIGHT THEM EVERY SINGLE DAY OF HIS LIFE, UNTIL THEY ENDED UP WINNING!
Seeking help for mental illness is not ableism. It’s fighting against a disease that wants to destroy you. No one who has experienced mental illness actually WANTS to feel that way. We do the best we can to fight it, and try to live our lives in spite of it. Sometimes we win the battle, sometimes we lose one… but the battle is never, ever over.
So the ableists who say we’re whining because we DARE to tell people we exist and that we have this thing that makes things hard sometimes: Go eat a dick, assholes! (Yes, I’m looking at you, Nicole Arbour. Kiss my ass, you vapid bitch.)
Your inner demons do not help you create. They hinder your creative process, taking everything you enjoy from you. Including making stuff for your own pleasure. And that’s what really hurts; that we can’t even enjoy the things we love. That’s when we know the demons are winning.
But we try to hold on, and we keep fighting. Until there’s nothing left in us.