Colony of Losers- Fuck Stigma and Mental Illness, I'm like 25

Surviving your Quarter Life Crisis and becoming an adult

Money Sick

Posted on | December 20, 2014 | No Comments

 

So there’s this joke I have been trying to word. It’s good. I mean I laugh. Sort of.

So this guy is experiencing low grade anxiety.

Nothing big. Just feels a bit like a teakettle collecting stem or a man about to scream into the face of a stranger on a bus.

He just wakes up and he wishes he could go back to sleep. Maybe his thoughts race a little. Maybe no matter what he does he keeps coming back to feeling a bit like a failure. He doesn’t like to think about this. He prefers to think about Doctor Who and how so many British actors could play the same man.

He figures there has to be something his doctor can deal with. Maybe his medication isn’t working. Maybe his thyroid is working a little too well or not well enough. Maybe he needs a lexus.

So he goes to his doctor, little dude, like two feet tall. But he seems big. The Doctor seems big I mean, not the guy, the guy is not really noteable height wise. But the Doctor, he stands on a stool and he yells at alot.Wears hats. And he has this deep voice. Like a cave is in his throat and everything he says echoes. And he is better at basketball than you’d expect. Anyways…..

Doctor checks him out. Looks in his throat. Looks in his ears. I don’t know why he does this. I don’t think you can see anxiety. Though I imagine it might be in your ears. Does a blood test. Nothing comes up.  And they are flummoxed. I mean they look up that word in the dictionary and that is the only thing that describes their level of confusion.This just doesn’t make sense.

Then the Doctor casually decides to prescribe him a pill because he figures fuck it, this will make this unctuous tall bastard quiet down. The man blushes. Feels his heartbeat start to rise.  He can’t afford medication.  He is doing a calculation his head and it’s how much further down he can comfortably take his bank account into over draft.

The Doctor chuckles. “You don’t have depression. You’re unhealthy but not more than most tall bastards. You’re money sick.”

“What?”

“You need more money. Than you’d be happy.”

Money sick is a condition where you worry about money all the time. You feel embarrassed and shameful when asked about your life because you lack the proper amount of money to feel confident. You also take a lot about what you watched on netflix. Because socializing is the one expense you can cut out. And you don’t feel quite so alone when you’re watching enough TV. That’s how the doctor describes it. He asks the guy, “Are you watching enough TV”

Because if you watch enough TV you will be well armed for your social conversations. The ones that happen incidentally at work or at a coffee shop. Because other people are also money sick and have been watching their Netflix, the church that protects the world from the realization of their Great Depression. It’s that sense of collective doom you feel and the irritation yelled in your face in Facebook. It’s the smoke from the fire of helplessness. It’s money sick.

So the Doctor realizes he could just give the guy some money. A little bit.Then he realizes how high his taxes are. How expensive his first home is. And he decides to talk about that for a while. And then write a refill for the guy’s anti-depressants.

Because a doctor can’t cure everything.

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    Michael Kimber is a 26-year-old journalist who suffered a nervous breakdown on November 3rd, 2009. On March 28th, 2010 when he recovered from mental illness, he began writing a blog called Colony-of-losers. About falling on your face to figure out who you are and the hilarious antics of a blond jew. What began with a few friends and his mother reading has become a cult phenomenon, averaging 10,000 views a week, receiving praise from Commonwealth Award Winner Shandi Mitchell and many others. On, November 3rd, 2010, the one year anniversary of his mental breakdown he signed with Anne McDermid and Associates, the largest literary agency in Canada. In a year he went from wearing pajamas, making his couch depression HQ to leaving his hometown for the Toronto, where he exclusively wears business suits and the armor of ancient Greeks. Don't worry, he's still choking on the feet he contently sticks in his mouth and making moments awkward just by being part of them. During these struggles he met other talented bastards and drew them into his circle. Peter Diamond became his illustrator. Patrick Campbell his video editor and part time photographer. He recently added the incredibly talented John Packman as Colony of Losers Toronto photographer. Without the support of the Colony of Losers, Michael Kimber would be nothing. Welcome to the losers and the success that comes from utter and complete failure. You aren’t alone. Follow him on twitter.com/colonyoflosersand twitter.com/quimbo. If you’d like to hire him for a public speaking engagement for mental health events in Toronto, like to arrange an interview, offer millions to publish his book or for another reason contact Michael please email him. And join his facebook Colony of Losers.

    Really obvious disclaimer:
    I’m not a trained psychologist. Just a fellow traveler. If you need help seek it from the professionals. The Canadian Mental Health Association provides a help locator. You can find crisis resources provided by the Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention. If you are in the states check here. It will give you services by zip code. I’d also recommend checking out Mindyourmind.ca. I think they do great work and have been a help to me personally.

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