Me and My Mood Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Part 5

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 4 is here.

Mental illness carries a stigma for two reasons: first, as I've already discussed, we often confuse it with a personality or character flaw because, well, it profoundly affects personality and character. Second, it disturbs us (even more than other illnesses) because it fucks with our ability to read other people. Your social instincts and skills, honed over millions of years in an evolutionary sense and over your whole lifetime in a more personal one, often spit out a big DOES NOT COMPUTE when confronted with someone with a mental illness because, well, their responses and social cues don't make a lick of sense. And people that don't make sense are unpredictable, and that's scary.

Is he going to kiss you or bite you? Hug you or eat you? You just don't know.

My problem with the stigma attached to mental illness isn't that it isn't fair -- although it often isn't -- it's simply that it often keeps people from getting the treatment they need. People don't want to admit to themselves that they're crazy or broken, that the essential them they know and love is nuts. And so they put off getting treatment, and wind up miserable at best and dead at worst. Which is why I try and be as open as possible about my own condition.

I don't wear "Has a Mood Disorder" like a merit badge, and I don't tell everyone on the street about how well my meds are working. But I do try to treat it casually, like any other chronic, treatable medical condition. Like diabetes, say. It's not necessarily everyone's business, but I'm not afraid to mention it in conversation if it's relevant.

The couple times that people have opened up to me about their own experiences with mental illness because I was open about mine have been extremely gratifying. Let me tell you, it doesn't get much better than having one of your students tell you you "saved their life" by being a friendly ear, and a hardass about making sure they kept going to treatment.

If you have a mental illness, my advice is, wait until you've got it handled -- until you're getting treatment, until you feel like you're starting to master the beast. And be careful about it at work. I work mostly in the performing arts and academia, where the reaction is usually not "You have a mental illness?", but rather "What's your dosage? Because I had some real problems with Restless Leg Syndrome when I was taking 250 mg". Not having a mental disorder of some kind is looked on with just a hint of suspicion. But in other industries, people can be real dicks about it. So watch your back.

But that aside? Pay it forward. People are dying from this every day, and living the kind of lives where they might as well be dead. I don't know if you owe them anything, but you can help.

Oh, and if there's anyone out there wondering how the people close to you will react if you "come out of the closet", as it were? Trust me, you were the last to know.

"What would they think if they knew the real me?"

Finally, I'd like to close with a little bit of advice for people who have to deal with people who are mentally ill:

1) It will take time. A lot of time. Like, years.

2) It is perfectly normal to want to beat them to death with their own leg. Mentally ill people are irritating as fuck.

3) Be prepared to forgive anything but avoiding treatment or not taking meds. Someone with a mental illness cannot be responsible for a lot of their behavior... but draw a line in the sand when it comes to doing what it takes to get better. My wife puts up with a lot... but if I skip meds, accidentally or not, her wrath comes down like the fist of an angry god. As well it should.

The last time I skipped meds.

4) Talk of harming oneself or others is not to be fucked around with. If you're asking yourself if they really mean it or not, they do. Call someone.

Get well, be well. Remember, Better Living Through Chemistry is still Living Better.

-- The Prolix Wag
Better Living Through Being Smarter Than You