McSweeney’s List (28 January 2026)
The sign on the metro platform says “considering suicide? We’re here for you”, and I roll my eyes. Sure, it's an important message, a necessary lifeline, but as a high functioning person with mental illness, it feels like there's no support until you threaten to throw yourself onto the tracks.
As a patient, I find myself on the wait list for a therapist (again), with no idea how long that might take. As a medical receptionist, I'd be hard-pressed to connect you with a professional unless your situation was already out of hand. It feels like we're no longer treating people who are trying to cope, only those who are in full blown crisis. Violent patients, those experiencing psychotic breaks, people who believe themselves to be God. While we obviously need to be treating those cases, there was a time not so long ago when the system could simultaneously support people on the brink, arguably preventing some full blown emergencies instead of picking up the pieces after the fact.
The thing about being high functioning, is that no one realizes how badly you're doing; often least so yourself. It comes with confusion, self doubt, a sense of imposterism. We shit talk ourselves on our bad days because we know what we're capable of on our good days, leading us to believe that today we’re just being weak, or lazy, or too sensitive. The guy on the metro in an agitated conversation with himself is easily seen to have a problem, while the woman gnawing at her nails while she tries to breathe through the panic is normalized; she’ll be fine. The high functioning amongst us are thus waved off, making invisible disabilities even less tangible.
It's not just mental illnesses of course; people with physical problems you can't see are lumped into the same category of being dismissed or ignored. On my cynical days, I see it as The System not caring as long as you can still maintain your place as a cog in their wheels, contributing to the money making. On my optimistic days, I think it's just a lack of resources combined with the fact that those with invisible disabilities often downplay their illnesses in an effort to maintain normalcy, or because they don't realize how bad things are.
My daughter has endometriosis. I'd heard of it, but didn't know the details until it was in my backyard, as is so often the case.
Endometriosis is when tissue made of the same stuff as uterine lining (endometrium) grows outside of the uterus. It causes extreme pain, often debilitating, along with horror movie style periods, and fertility issues. And that's the best case scenario. The tissues, aptly called adhesions, are sticky, and they get around: they can pinch your organs together with an ever tightening grip, causing problems with digestion and elimination, and again, that's the best case scenario.
Severe bowel obstructions, urinary tract issues, ectopic pregnancies, or rare cancers are all part of how endometriosis negatively impacts over all mortality risks. There's even a sci-fi terror version called thoracic endometriosis that gets into your lungs, causing potentially fatal internal bleeding. It's estimated that 10% of women suffer, about 190 million. And that's just based on the very little we know.
See, the medical community is woefully -- shamefully -- behind on helping these patients. The average time a woman suffers before even getting a diagnosis ranges between 5 and 12 years, and once she has the diagnosis, well, the options remain limited. Painkillers (including opioids), surgery, more meds, more surgery…it's not something that gets solved so much as managed.
My daughter started experiencing symptoms at 12. Period pain would take her out, leave her vomiting and crying. Over the years she missed school, work, and countless social events, because she just couldn't make it. Now, the thing about my kid is that she's high functioning to the point of satire. She has a house, and it's spotless and beautiful; she rescues animals, is actively involved with an animal charity, got her diploma, and that wasn't enough, so she got a bigger diploma. She's allergic to procrastination. When her female obgyn told her for years that her period pain was “normal”, she started to think that she was just weak.
She finally got a new doctor who took her seriously, and was diagnosed at 26. She jumped through all the hoops to get the accommodations she needed at work. She provided all the doctors notes, all the personal information they needed about her very private issue. When she came back from her first surgery, already in talks for her second surgery, her supervisor suggested she take a Tylenol for her pain. Now, she's a better person than I am, because I was packing accelerant along with some brass knuckles to go solve this guy's ignorance.
They changed the rules at her job; they no longer needed all the medical information (a good step considering they certainly didn't need as much of her medical file as they requested; a doctor's note should've been the end of it). Now they only requested an impact statement from her, one where she outlines her frequent need for the bathroom (a supervisor once timed her bathroom visits), as well as pain management requirements to explain why she couldn't just work at the office after six years of working from home. It was a relief, and we wondered if someone had gone to the union or the human rights tribunal to change these rules. Fast forward a couple of weeks, and they requested all the medical documentation again. Nothing had changed in their system. Meanwhile, she's currently experiencing side effects from her second surgery.
She told me that her imposter syndrome is alive and well. That she's afraid even the doctors think she's lying, afraid they think she's trying to get meds, when all she really wants is a solution that will let her live normally. Despite the fact that they removed physical endometrium, she feels like a faker.
I keep my hidden disabilities in my brain, where no one can find them. For decades I wondered why things impacted me differently, and why I couldn't just be normal. Even after diagnoses, and changed diagnoses, therapy, on meds and off meds, and different meds, and different therapy, my inner voice still tells me to pull my shit together. That there is some internal failing on my part keeping me locked in my own struggle. That I should be able to surf my illnesses with more grace. As my hormones are changing, it's getting worse; the space between grinning and bearing it and total crash out overwhelm is shortening. My tolerance for the bullshit of others is in short order, as is my ability to concern myself with the comfort of others. And not in a wild uncontrolled way; more I'm the sense that I have spent so many years and countless spoons of energy trying to keep everyone comfy and happy as I suffered, and now I simply cannot, because I am so very limited, and I must prioritize myself. My mouth is faster than my censor now; my face will take itself for a walk before my brain can tell it to put itself together first. Actually, a lot of the time, my brain doesn't even say that; the mechanisms that have allowed me to fake it for so many years have laid down their arms, and their most frequent advice is do you, Boo.
Funny enough, I feel less inclined to fight: to those who insist on touching the stove, now I shrug and say let them die by fire. We disagree on something? If we can't settle it with a simple Google search, I'll probably walk away from the conversation, or at the very least, get us back to common ground. Convincing people of anything is off my priority list. Believe what you want, repeat your errors elsewhere. Fuck it. Fuck it all.
Sure, this essay could be about how we should be nice to each other because we can't see the hidden struggles, and that's an important message. But this is to all of us with invisible disabilities: they're real. If you were bleeding, you would give yourself grace, and just because no one can see how you're quietly leaking, it doesn't change how it feels to be in your body.
This is also an acknowledgement that the high functioning among us tend to be super hard on the less functioning: it's the old if I can manage, why can't you? I think the answer is two-fold. Firstly, we high functioning types are holding ourselves to unrealistic standards, and more often than not, we shouldn't be doing as much as we are. We meet our self-created targets at great expense to ourselves and often crash after attainment. It's unlikely that we’ll pull back; a combination of our own need to be perceived as normal, adequate, worthy mixed with our desire to achieve our own specific goals, makes it improbable. On the other hand, some people really are fakers, and their very existence makes us feel the need to step up.
I don't think we can have a discourse about hidden disabilities without addressing the fact that some people want a diagnosis as a way out of the status quo. I personally know people who will doctor shop and print pages of Google deep dives to try to get themselves disability benefit money. That behavior undermines the way people with real problems are perceived both socially and by the medical community, and we, the high functioning, feel that as misplaced guilt. Is it really that bad? Maybe I can just push through…I don't want to be a whiner…
Working at a doctor's office, I regularly encounter a pretty interesting cross section of humanity. My boss has also taught me that hypochondria is real and valid. Flash to that time I had a rash and the internet told me it was breast cancer. I had enough experience to know that was an out of pocket answer, but not everyone does, and their anxiety is real. The difference, he says, in how they respond to his assessment. Most hypochondriacs just need to hear from a professional that they're fine. A small subset will demand esoteric and unnecessary tests. They won't get them where I work. Giving in to those requests wastes time and more importantly, resources. And those people won’t be satisfied with the results anyway; they will regroup and ask for new tests for totally different things, ignoring all professional advice.
It's a fine line to walk for those with invisible disabilities. Advocating for yourself when you know the cramps aren't “just” PMS can feel like you’re making the whole thing up. (Just is in quotes there because even mild PMS symptoms can wreck your week, we've just been told to ignore it so we don't annoy the people who will never understand.) Seeking help for mental illness can feel whiny when you're not in a full blown crisis. Maybe everyone feels this way, and they carry on, so why can't I? Brains are notorious and skilled liars.
So we find ourselves with supportive billboards on metro platforms, or seeking treatment at emergency rooms because the pain is unbearable and we’re bleeding. Then resources are available; then the specialist can be paged; then we believe our own bodies.
There's a saying at my office: the people who say sorry to bother you, or I hate to trouble you, or some iteration of that, are never a bother. They are never the ones who call with demands, or suddenly yell at me after whispering that they've lost their voice. That's my message to the invisibly disabled: You know that guilt you feel? That second guessing, and desire to fake health? That's your sign that you aren't a bother. You aren't a burden, you aren't faking, and you deserve to be helped and supported long before it's an emergency. You have enough problems, Babe; it's time to let yourself off your own hook.
NOT MILLIONS OF PEACHES; FUCK THE PAIN AWAY, PEACHES.
BBAM! Gallery is super proud to present the Montreal theatrical premiere of the acclaimed documentary, Peaches Goes Bananas!
For 17 years, director Marie Losier has followed the trailblazing, provocative, and taboo-shattering career of artist and musician Peaches. From her early life, to her ascent towards becoming a queer feminist icon, her story is one that has defied expectations and exemplified fearless exploration and rebellion.
Peaches Goes Bananas is an intimate portrait of this singular artist. Capturing her thrilling live shows, artistic process, close relationships with her family, and her rise to fame, the film is a “poetic… two-decade long conversation between two artists,” (The Upcoming).
Giant 12ftx9ft screen.
Warm intimate vibe.
Cold beverages & coffee will be available.
Space is limited, so hustle up.
BBAM! is an art gallery/record store, and you are welcome to browse and hang out before and after the screening; meet new friends and enjoy the ambience.
Watch the trailer here!
WHAT: BBAM! Film Premiere: Peaches Goes Bananas
WHERE: BBAM! Gallery, 808 Atwater Ave., Montreal, H4C 2G9
WHEN: Thursday, January 29, Doors @ 7 PM, Film @ 730 PM
METRO: Lionel Groulx
TICKETS: Square
LAUGH & PAINT
Turn your funniest story into art at The LOL Paint Party; a creative, laughter-filled night with Dr. Lemco’s Creative Club! Featuring Nicky Fournier, and “Mr. Sign” Dave Arnold. No experience needed, just a desire to experiment and play. All materials will be provided.
Want to know more about Tyler Lemco and his amazing new spot? Check my feature here!
WHAT: LOL Paint Party
WHERE: Dr. Lemco's Creative Club, 5271 De Maisonneuve Blvd. W., Montreal, H4A
WHEN: Thursday, January 29, 630 PM - 9 PM
METRO: Vendome (Orange)
TICKETS: Eventbrite
RAGE FOR THE CAUSE
A rager in solidarity with the "Palestine 13" activists who are currently facing charges stemming from the James Administration Building protest at McGill in June 2024 (AKA we're gonna donate the door money to help them keep their lawyers). We'll be adding some more names, but expect feverish rhythms from the windmill that is DIRTY MILK, a little solo stuff from PUBERTY WELL's MONA GENDRON, some live swordfighting in the pit from local fencers EVELYN "SOURPUSS" TURPIN and "PERFECT PRIMROSE" ROSEMARY DAVIES, poems from returning champion of Montréal GWEN AUBE, an a/v journey into the bowels of American imperialism by Discordia Review's JACK DANIEL CHRISTIE, and some sort of something by yr ol' friend (and BAD BRAIN and JRG host) Jimmer, whose birthday it is. Come have a good time for a good cause. Check @noukuleles on IG for more info.
WHAT: Death Defying: Dirty Milk, Gwen Aube, Mona Gendron, Jack Daniel Christie + More
WHERE: L'Hémisphère Gauche, 221 Beaubien St. E., Montreal, H2S 1R5
WHEN: Thursday, January 29 @ 8 PM
METRO: Beaubien (Orange)
DETAILS: Facebook
NEED SOME METAL?
A killer night of metal Celebrating the 1st Anniversary of the album “Signs”
Petit Campus proudly presents an explosive Metal Night featuring Red Raven Chaos, celebrating the first anniversary of their album “Signs” with a crushing live performance you don’t want to miss.
Joining the night as special guests:
Off&Dead – A relentless metal force delivering raw aggression, heavy riffs, and intense energy. Known for their brutal sound and uncompromising attitude, Off&Dead sets the perfect tone for a night of pure metal chaos.
Chüzo – Bringing a powerful blend of heavy grooves and dark atmospheres, Chüzo is a band that hits hard both musically and emotionally, guaranteed to leave a lasting impact on the crowd.
🎟️ Tickets
• Online tickets: $10
• At the door: $15
This is more than a concert — it’s a celebration of metal, unity, and pure intensity. Expect massive riffs, crushing breakdowns, and an unforgettable atmosphere inside one of Montreal’s most iconic venues.
One night. Three bands. No mercy.
If you live for heavy music, this is where you need to be.
WHAT: Metal Night at Petit Campus - Red Raven Chaos - Off&Dead - Chüzo
WHERE: Petit Campus, 57-B Prince Arthur St. E., Montreal, H2X 1B4
WHEN: Friday, January 30
METRO: Sherbrooke (Orange)
TICKETS: ThePointOfSale
GUIDED ART
Explore the PHI Centre’s Fall/Winter exhibitions with a curator!
Cheryl Sim, Director and Chief Curator at PHI, will offer a guided visit to the 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘔𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘶: 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 and to 𝘒𝘦𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘯: 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘖𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 exhibitions for the general public.
During these tours, participants will have the opportunity to learn more about the works on display, as well as the ideas that inspired the exhibitions, including spirituality, trauma, healing, and physicality.
🎟️ Free admission · Reservations required
WHAT: Guided Tour with a Curator - Manuel Mathieu & Keiken
WHERE: PHI, 451 St. Jean, Montreal, H2Y 1V8
WHEN: Saturday, January 31 @10 AM
METRO: Square Victoria - OACI (Orange)
RSVP: PHI
World’s Smallest Comedy Night has so many cool things happening, so here are their events this week in order!
What Do You Know? Like, Seriously…
Tonight! Come to Hurley's for Trivia Night, and get bonus laughter! Enjoy delicious pub fare, and get ready to show off your trivia skills. Grab your team, and enjoy this night of comedy, friendly competition, and great company!
This edition is hosted by Vance Michel, featuring Miguel McKenna, Peter Bowen, and Micheal Pecker.
WHAT: Trivia Night at Hurley's
WHERE: Hurley's Irish Pub, 1225 Crescent St., Montreal, H3G 2B1
WHEN: Every Wednesday @ 8 PM
METRO: Lucien l'Allier (Orange) & Guy-Concordia (Green)
RSVP: Eventbrite
Classic Coke
Beat the Monday Blues with WSC’s OG offering, The World's Smallest Comedy Night!
Enjoy a showcase of the best comedians in the city, hot up-and-comers, national and international touring comics, and surprises!
Hosted by Vance Michel, featuring James Oakley, John Cotrocois, Charles Montgomery, Claudio Capri, Micheal Pecker, George Assily, Sanya Nanda, and James Mancini.
WHAT: World's Smallest Comedy Night
WHERE: Hurley's Irish Pub, 1225 Crescent St., Montreal, H3G 2B1
WHEN: Every Monday, Doors @ 7 PM, Show @ 8 PM
METRO: Lucien l'Allier (Orange) & Guy-Concordia (Green)
TICKETS: Eventbrite
Dirty Monday
The Monday Night Dirty Mic is the place to be! Hosted by Vance Michel, every show is an unpredictable and unique experience as a hilarious collection of comedians from newbs to pros take the stage. See the best before anyone else, and catch seasoned locals doing their freshest funnies!
Comics: show-up, sign-up
WHAT: Monday Night Dirty Mic
WHERE: Hurley's Irish Pub, 1225 Crescent St., Montreal, H3G 2B1
WHEN: Every Monday, Sign-up @ 10 PM, Show @ 1030 PM
METRO: Lucien l'Allier (Orange) & Guy-Concordia (Green)
DETAILS: Facebook
