Diagnosis

I had my last therapy session yesterday. I walked in knowing I had nothing to say to my therapist, and when she asked me what had been happening I said "Nothing at all, really." She asked me what I wanted to do, and I said that I didn't think I needed another appointment. She smiled, agreed with me and told me she hoped I was proud of me, because I should be proud of me.

Something interesting that we did talk about was my diagnosis. I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder four years ago. My therapist told me yesterday that if I were to go through that process again, it would be a lot harder to get that diagnosis, because I have my disorder controlled to such a point that although I still have the traits of BPD, it would take a lot longer than one session and a lot deeper digging to diagnose me. I have my disorder under control. It makes me grin every time I think those words.

Who ever said that mental illness can't be treated? :)

Amplification

If you're anything like me you've heard people scoff at the diagnostic criteria of any given mental illness and claim that those criteria could apply to anyone. Everyone gets a bit down, fears the end of their relationship or being abandoned by the ones they love. Everyone is scared something bad will happen to their loved ones, or is at times unable to see the shades of grey between the black and the white. We all know this is true, so what exactly is it that sets normal personality quirks apart from those of a disordered personality?

Quite simply, I'd say it comes down to severity. Sure, we all fear things in life but when that fear is so strong and starts to rule your life I think it becomes a problem, and then it gets labelled as an anxiety disorder. Everyone gets a bit blue from time to time, but when you're so down you forget to shower for three weeks and don't go to work because you can't get out of bed I'd say we're at the point of clinical depression.

As much as I hate to drop “Girl, Interrupted” quotes, I think the concept that someone with mental illness is “you or me, amplified” has a lot of truth to it.

When these personality quirks become so strong they impede our day-to-day living, at that point it becomes a mental health concern. Is that not the same as so many other physical illnesses? We may all get a bit of a tension headache from time to time, so we pop some Advil and get on with it. When it becomes a migraine so bad we're hiding in a cool closet away from all light and sound? Yep, that's a problem.

I really do think that mental illness is viewed so differently from these physical ailments, and I don't necessarily think we should view them any differently. A wrenched ankle is an ailment, and so too is clinical depression. Both deserve treatment, and neither one is more or less “valid” as an illness. To think this is to alienate a huge number of the population, and because mental illness is mostly such an invisible disease we really can't tell by looking at someone whether or not they have an illness.

An illness is an illness, regardless of whether it is physical or mental, and to be frankly honest all those members of society that scoff at mental illness haven't got a clue about mental illness and should be ignored. They're not professionals, they haven't done any form of education on the subject, and have no right to drop science on the subject. So you're well within you're rights to tell them to shove it up their ass.

What's your diagnonsense?

In the wide social community that those of us with mental illness inevitably find ourselves in sooner or later, the sharing of each other's diagnosis seems to end up happening sooner or later. Some of us have them and some don't. Some people even have more than one. We all seem to have something different "wrong" with us, so obviously it is a good talking point. But how important are diagnosis to our recovery? Do they do any good, or only harm?

I know that in my case I was glad, relieved and even thankful to get a diagnosis. I had spent so many years knowing something was wrong, but not having it confirmed. So I felt relief that I finally had a name for this mysterious illness that had affected my life so intensely, and that now that I knew what it was I would be able to fight it. You can't fight a monster you can't see or understand, can you?

However, with my diagnosis came a whole lot of drama. People just plain don't believe my illness exists, and that it is just a bogus label made up by doctors so they had a box where they could stick people like me. Hell, some doctors don't even believe it exists. On top of that, there is also the wonderful traits that people think I should have. I should be promiscuous because Susanna Kaysen (author of Girl, Interrupted) was and she had the same diagnosis that I do. I should be an attention-seeking, manipulating individual that will stop at nothing to force people to never leave her side.

There are good sides and bad sides to every diagnosis. My disorder finally had a face, but I had to deal with the stigma associated with that diagnosis. Sometimes the good outweigh the bad, like in my case, but in others the bad is the winner by far.

So when we consider the good and the bad sides of the diagnosis, it is unsurprising that some people would rather just not know. They would rather just battle their faceless and nameless monster without worrying about the specifics. Is this any less viable than knowing? How can I be the one to say that a choice is wrong for someone else? Every single one of us is different and we all have different ways of dealing with our illnesses.

Isn't it amazing how a few simple words can so greatly affect what we feel about ourselves?