A Quote by Petra Collins

My mother struggled immensely with mental illness, and so did I. She grew up bipolar, but it was never diagnosed nor recognized. It was shrugged off like a 'symptom' of being female - of her being weak. I also experienced this growing up: I felt that the great pain I experienced was a dramatisation.
Growing up, I saw Mum as being so celebratory of our culture. So I was surprised to hear - during discussions sparked by the Black Lives Matter protests - about the racism she experienced growing up, and the shame she once felt about being black.
One of the facets of growing up the way I did, I never had the experience of being solely in the black community. Even my family, my mother is what they call Creole, so she's part French, part black, and grew up in Louisiana. It's a very specific kind of blackness that is different than what is traditionally thought of as the black community and black culture. So, I never felt a part of whatever that was.
I did have a lot of lack, but I never experienced it. I grew up in the east side of Detroit, in an area where there was very little, except for a lot of scarcity, poverty and hunger. Even growing up in an orphanage, I never woke up saying, "I'm an orphan again today, isn't this terrible? Poor me."
As well as being blind, Ma turned out to have the same mental illness that her mother had had. Between 1986 and 1990, she suffered six schizophrenic bouts, each requiring her to be institutionalised for up to three months.
There's such a stigma around mental illness, and this idea that you're going to come off as disturbed or weak somehow by being open about these things. I've never felt embarrassed or shy talking about it; it's such an integral part of my life.
She expected the pain, when it came. But she gasped at its sharpness; it was not like any pain she had felt before. He kissed her and slowed and would have stopped. But she laughed, and said that this one time she would consent to hurt, and bleed, at his touch. He smiled into her neck and kissed her again and she moved with him through the pain. The pain became a warmth that grew. Grew, and stopped her breath. And took her breath and her pain and her mind away from her body, so that there was nothing but her body and his body and the light and fire they made together.
So I just sat in bed for six months - I literally didn't leave the house - and it was the first time that I'd actually experienced being depressed. I'd be sad on and off but I'd never experienced actual depression. Like, crying for no reason. It was really horrible.
I grew up in a modern business environment and did not experience the kind of prejudice that my mother and grandfather experienced.
I experienced firsthand not only the mental and physical damage being unhealthy does to a person, but I also recognized the discrimination many overweight people faced because of their public image. And I, like everyone else, is susceptible to falling into negative patterns that can cause weight gain.
France was given up to fire and bloodshed, she experienced famine, she experienced the worst of things, she was nearly chopped up in pieces forever because of the decision... to exclude, to brand one party as guilty and annihilate them.
When I got the job I thought about her a lot. Not only was I getting a great job in a really good movie, but it was with Lindsay Lohan. She's so famous and I don't have any of that, I have never experienced that kind of intense scrutiny that she's under, so of course I wondered what it would be like acting opposite her. I can tell you that it's like being with The Beatles. You cannot fathom the kind of attention she gets. It's mind boogling.
When you have mental illness you don't have a plaster or a cast or a crutch, that let everyone know that you have the illness, so people expect the same of you as from anyone else and when you are different they give you a hard time and they think you're being difficult or they think you're being a pain in the ass and they're horrible to you. You spend your life in Ireland trying to hide that you have a mental illness.
I did suffer from sciatica, which was one of the most painful things I've ever experienced. Lots of women love being pregnant and say they feel really womanly, but I felt really ungraceful and struggled a bit with that!
Until the day she died, my mother continued to fight for the rights of women. She joined all the women's movements of the time; she stirred up a lot of revolts. She was a great woman, a great figure. Women today would like her immensely.
My wife, like many women, actually LIKES wrapping things. If she gives you a gift that requires batteries, she wraps the batteries separately, which to me is very close to being a symptom of mental illness.
I never had any desire to be famous. I find people who do really sad. I genuinely feel sorry for them because there is nothing of substancein their lives. I am happy when I am writing or performing. Not when I sit there being "famous". I like recognition for my work, but not recognition for being "that bloke off the telly". It is genuinely humbling when a woman comes up to me, as someone did recently, to say she wanted to commit suicide after her husband died, and my show cheered her up and made her feel better. That's great.
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