And other obscure cultural references to help us fight the psychological battles that get forgotten while the world expects Pride to be all smiles.
By Alexis Chiavetta
For those of you who have no knowledge of scuba diving, one of the easiest ways to end up injured or even dead is something called the bends, or decompression sickness. We’ll save the gory details for that medical drama your mom talks about every time you talk to her, but for our purposes, the important part is that it’s what happens when you ascend or descend too quickly and your body fails to keep up with the rapid changes in pressure.
Now, you might be asking yourself, “Wait a minute, didn’t I click on a story about mental health and Pride?” You absolutely did. I swear I’m about to get there.
See, the thing that we don’t talk about enough is that people in the Queer community are especially prone to a psychological variant of the bends, especially during Pride Month. After all, what could be more akin to decompression than being in a Pride parade, feeling all the pure love and joy being emitted by that crowd, only to be sobbing on the edge of your bed an hour later because suddenly the energy you were surrounded by feels like a vacation from the isolated, oppressive life that you actually lead on a day-to-day basis?
Then the bends hit, and you feel like you’re stuck in this depression hole forever, trapped in a prison built by the same series of events that helped you discover your authentic self. You remember that the same things that make life feel awful are also the things that made Pride become so deeply personal. You remember that, up until now, you have a 100% success rate of surviving your worst days. Then you take a deep breath and remember that someday, every day will feel like Pride.
As difficult as that kind of rapid shift from emotional high to low can be to wrestle with, I knew to be ready for it as I picked up my Starbucks on the way into the city from the Southtowns.
I remembered that the reason for the emotional vertigo means that things will, can, and are getting better, even if the progress sometimes comes at a snail’s pace. My life has been in this less-than-ideal place for over four years since I had a massive panic attack in February of 2022 that I’m still recovering from to this very day.
My life has been like this for so long that if things didn’t get better, I would’ve adapted and grown complacent.
In a strange way, the melancholy itself serves as both a reminder that there is joy, happiness, and love in the world that keeps the bad times from lasting forever, and an inspiration to go out into my life and find it. Every panic attack that makes my life feel isolated and claustrophobic becomes a rallying point from which to find and add more happiness to my life.
Without sadness and longing, how would we identify the things that we truly want and need in our lives from the things the world around us tells us to want?
For anybody under 30, you might not remember one of my favorite shows: The West Wing.
There’s a story that gets told in one of the series’ most iconic episodes, “Noel,” which addresses a character dealing with the long-term effects of PTSD.
According to recent data, about 8% of the general population suffers from either PTSD or CPTSD. That’s roughly one in every twelve people.
Want to guess what that number is in the Queer community?
It’s one person out of every 2.1 people.
Yes, you read that right.
In 2026, if you identify as Queer, your odds of having some degree of PTSD come down to a coin flip. Which makes it more important than ever to talk about just how much Pride is about community.
Nobody knows how to talk to a traumatized Queer person like an even more traumatized Queer person, and I’ve got plenty of lived experience to back that up.
So, I’ll wrap up this thought with an abbreviated version of the quote I alluded to at the beginning to remind everyone that often the best person to talk to is somebody who’s been there.
“So, this guy’s walking down the street when he falls into a hole. After quickly realizing it’s too deep to climb out of, he starts yelling for help.
First, a doctor comes by who doesn’t even look down but tosses a prescription into the hole and moves on.
Then a priest comes by. Upon hearing the calls for help, he stops, says a quick prayer, and goes about his day.
After a while, the guy’s friend walks by, and as soon as he hears the call for help, he jumps into the hole.
The first guy looks at his buddy and says, ‘What the hell is the matter with you? Now we’re both down here.’
And the friend says, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been down here before, and I know the way out.”
