My dad (genuinely RIP unlike Viv) had a serious mental health breakdown many years ago. He went from a warm, funny and proud man to someone who stayed in bed for 4 weeks and had to be prompted to get up to go to the toilet. He didn't wash, shave. clean his teeth or get dressed in that 4 week period. My mum had to sit at his bedside literally spoon feeding him or he wouldn't have eaten or drunk anything of his own volition. This is a man who wouldn't previously be seen downstairs in a dressing gown - he was washed, shaved, hair combed and wearing a smart shirt and trousers every time he came downstairs.
After 4 weeks he was sectioned and spent 9 months as an inpatient. This was back in the day when electro convulsive shock therapy was routinely used for extreme cases of depression. Luckily for him (and us) it worked and, unlike McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, he finally came home close to being the man he was before. Utterly traumatic and terrifying period for all of us; I was 12 at the time and the memory of his broken self still reduces me to tears.
He didn't cosplay as Tommy bleeping Shelby or whoever was 'in fashion' at the time. He didn't go to fancy dress parties with his mates. He wasn't having a great laugh online about the flavours of Vienetta. He wasn't lapping up attention and guffawing at inappropriate comments about his physical attributes. He wasn't getting dressed up to go to awards dinners and posting selfies. He wasn't hanging spendy neon signs on the wall and concocting bullshit about destructive mice.
duck YOU, JACK. You make me bleeping sick with the way you weaponise mental health problems. You've, very clearly, never experienced what my kind, decent father did, nor have your family had to see you be like an empty shell for months on end.
bleep.
aaaand ... breathe