Lately I have read blogs and articles with titles like “Don’t be defined by your mental illness” or something similar. These articles, written by well meaning authors with first hand experience, advise us not to allow our mental illness to intrude into the way we live our everyday lives, the way we make decisions, or how we socialise. Sometimes the argument focuses on not being held back by “labels” assigned to you at diagnosis. On the face of it, this is good, life affirming advice, is it not? I thought so for a while. So, last New Year’s Eve, I decided that I too would not let myself be defined by my mental illness. As the year nears it’s end, I find that absolutely nothing in my life has changed. And I am alright with that!
I am alright with it because I was unwittingly trying to do something that I believe I shouldn’t have to do, and, something I didn’t want to do. Rather than freeing my self from self-imposed constraints, I was placing an unwanted burden on myself. I was monitoring my thoughts and behaviours and analysing them to determine if I was successfully avoiding being defined by my mental illness. As if I don’t have enough self analysis and self judgement going on! I already keep a detailed mood journal. Do I really need more scrutiny? No, I do not.
In part, my motivation was to encourage myself to change my behaviour. To do things like go for long walks more often, get out of the house and meet people, spend less time watching Netflix. As it turns out, I don’t particularly want to go out walking and, while I am open to meeting new people, I don’t want it enough to put any real effort in to it. I understand that all these things have therapeutic benefits, but so does my contentment with my life as I live it now. I was trying to redefine myself and for no good reason. My motivation was misdirected. I do not need to change my behaviour and judge myself on how successful I have been just to prove to myself that my life is not defined by mental illness. My life is definitely defined by my mental illness to a significant extent, but it works for me.
I did not arrive at this life style without first trying lots of alternatives. I have lived with other people but it never worked out. I have made friendships with people that, for one reason or another, I have become separated from. I have moved towns, I have tried a sea change, I have lived in the suburbs, and I have eventually found my home in the city. I live alone. I could be described as “socially isolated”. I know that this is a risk factor for suicide, but, I have come to rather enjoy it. I have responded to the effects of my mental illnesses and I have found my own way to live. While I do not surrender to my mental illness, neither do I engage in needless battles that would wear me down with stress and exhaustion. I work with my mental illness to define my life style. It is different to most but it is balanced in it’s own way and is totally satisfactory. Allowing my mental illness to define my lifestyle has brought me peace and contentment and it is in no way inferior to the way I lived my life before mental illness became an issue.
I realise now, that trying to avoid having my mental illness define my lifestyle was a response to self imposed stigma. My mistaken stigmatising belief was that my lifestyle was deficient in some way or that I was succumbing to a desire to avoid “‘real life”. Neither belief is true. Wanting to redefine my lifestyle made me take worryingly negative view of my current lifestyle. I reframed it as though it was just the wreckage of former relationships gone wrong and the best that could be expected of a broken brain. It is anything but. I function perfectly well. I go on overseas holidays, I do lunch with friends, I pay my bills, I clean my apartment. I do what everybody else does, but on my terms. My lifestyle is defined by my mental illness because I have adapted to do things my way and because of that, I am happy, content and productive. I don’t need to change a thing.
I have spent most of my life living in relationships where my mental illnesses were either not acknowledged or where suppressed in some way. I did not let my mental illness define me. I lived in denial and in defiance of my mental illness. I was out of control. My loved ones could not understand my strange behaviours. They called me odd, eccentric, manic, nutty, and so on. I did nothing to acknowledge my mental illness, much less seek help. Chaos and disaster ensued. Not letting my mental illness define me did nothing to stem it’s inexorable course, and nothing to help my family understand that my moods were biological in nature and nobody’s fault.
What about the advice to “ditch the labels”? The idea is that if we let go of the labels that we are given at diagnosis, we might spend less time ruminating on our own inadequacies. Without a label, there is nothing for our antagonists and bullies to latch onto and use against us, so we are spared stigma and discrimination. A good friend of mine once tried to convince me to give up my labels and never let on that I have a mental illness. She meant well but she enunciating the stigmatising view that mental illness is a social construct and if you ignore it, it will just go away.
I am lucky to have the privilege of age and with that privilege comes the formidable superpower of not giving a flying fuck what people think of me. I wear my labels like a badge of honour and if people have a problem with that, then it is their problem. Having said that, I understand that there are situations where discretion is the better part of valour. If I apply for a job I don’t mention my mental health until I have my feet under the desk.
I love my labels. I have four of them. It has taken me decades of consultations and treatments to pin my mental illnesses down, to give them the correct labels. I have been through decades of misdiagnosis and inappropriate treatment that has caused me no end of anguish and pain, not to mention, a lot of disastrous outcomes. Now I have labels that allow me to access the right treatment. I can research my conditions and understand what is going on. I can consider how my conditions interact to make complex patterns of symptoms. I have meaningful and productive consultations with my health professionals. I get good advice, effective medications, and, I stay as well as I can expect to be.
Being diagnosed with mental illness is confronting. Apprehension about how you and your loved ones will be effected occupies your thoughts. At this time you become painfully aware of the stigma and discrimination that goes with mental illness. It is understandable that you might choose to deny this reality and “ditch the label”. The hope is that, without the label, people will not be aware of your mental health issue. This is a position adopted by the anti-psychiatry movement who, simply put, believe labels to impose negative stereotypes on people who don’t have a real problem anyway, just like my friend.
To me, ”ditching the label” is a form of denial and can never be an effective strategy in dealing with mental illness. Denial may lead you eschew the help of mental health professionals in the hope that you can find another way to cope. It might cause you to hide your condition and try to suppress the symptoms. Regardless, mental illness is a biological condition. Untreated, it will simply get worse and progress toward an often catastrophic breakdown. Your family will not be spared the ramifications of your illness, the irritability, the hostility, the midnight rush to the hospital. I say allow yourself to be defined by your illness and wear the ”label” with pride. Use it to learn how your mental illness effects you and those you care about. Know how to care for yourself and your family. Pay your mental illness the attention it deserves or you will suffer the consequences.
Sometimes denial and discrimination about mental illness comes from within the family. My family are in denial over my mental illness. They hold pernicious views that have wrecked our relationship. Criticisms like “you will be OK if you just man up”, and, “you just need to control yourself”. They have never asked me about my condition. My “labels” counter their ignorance and their stigmatising. I know that biochemical processes are at the core of my mental illnesses, not weakness or fecklessness. They can have their views, but mine are backed by science. My enlightenment trumps their ignorance. Self-awareness and acceptance have allowed me to see the many positive traits I have been gifted and to be grateful for the many adventures that I have had because of them. Our weapons against personal stigmatising and discrimination are self-awareness, knowledge, and the determination to be ourselves. Use “labels” to find out about the biological illness that is your mental health and help your family to understand.
It’s not a good idea to defy your diagnosis. Your labelled condition. I defied mine for years by simply ignoring it, or, by self-medicating, only to develop serious substance use disorders. I paid a high price when inevitably, self medication did not work and things became unmanageable. Awareness of my “label” and what it told me about the way my body worked, would have saved me from a lot of needless pain and anguish. That “label” was key to understanding my condition and knowing how to deal with it. Use your “label” to learn the warning signs that go with your condition. Learn how your condition interacts with other conditions and your body’s systems.
I accept my mental illnesses, they are an important part of the package that is me. I take full responsibility for them, I don’t hide them from people who need to know about them. I own my mental health and I am happy to explain it and discuss it to raise awareness and tackle discrimination. I am not ashamed of it, so I don’t apologise for it. I treat it like the biological condition it is and I am endlessly fascinated by it. I am defined by my mental illness, but not just mental illness. I am happy with that.
Eve's Gift 