In a book I’m reading at the moment the term “trigger warning” is discussed and one of the characters wonders just when he became fluent in foreign language he never wanted to learn.
That expressed quite well a feeling I’ve often had but never could find words for:
Every time I explain to someone that there is a difference between a psychiatrist and a psychotherapist.
Every time I remark that Gollum doesn’t have schizophrenia.
Every time I have a conversation like this.
Every time I start reciting BPD-symptoms in order to make clear that not all of us have scars on their arms and/or are dangerous.
Every time I want to talk about something and suddenly notice that I’m using terms I should have explained first.
As glad as I am to have all that knowledge – as often do I think how it would be pleasant if I didn’t need to know anything about it.
I wish everyone who is compelled to aquire such foreign language skills a wonderful weekend!