The worst part about having a mental illness is the fact that no matter how much I read about my illness, learn about it, it still does not make me immune to it. I wish that having the knowledge meant it would no longer plague my life.
Of course, you learn strategies and skills that help you deal with it better and, in the very least, help you understand some of the "why" questions... over time, your relapses seem to last for shorter periods of time and they are stretched farther apart. But there will always be a part of me that longs for a life free of these issues. I wish I never had to face another relapse. I wish I didn't have to work so hard at just living, staying alive, every single day.
And it's rather insulting that - after years of dealing with these illnesses and their complications... after having struggled with accepting my own diagnosis and need for help... after having gone through denial, shame, and self-forgiveness - people insinuate that I was misdiagnosed. It threatens to raise a lot of self-doubt that I have already laid to rest. It comes like a slap on the face and rouses my defensive resources. Now that I've become an "expert" in my own illness, you think I'm faking it? That I just want to be depressed or manic all the time? What do I have to gain from that??!
Many people (upon finding out I have bipolar disorder) make similar statements: "I would never guess someone like you could have bipolar disorder" or "You don't come across as being bipolar" or "You seem to be functioning too well to be mentally ill."
These comments make you feel desperate to prove you're genuinely sick because you want nothing more than to be understood. If people could (first) understand that I have these issues and then appreciate the effort I put forth to go on with my life, perhaps they could set aside their judgmentalism and be a little more gentle with me. I guess that's asking a lot, seeing as our society doesn't reward gentleness anymore.
So, in the process of trying to let people see this vulnerable side of me, it sets me up for judgment and sometimes gives people a totally different impression of me. I've been thinking about it for awhile now... I haven't decided yet... I struggle with these contradictions... Do I continue to share the deepest, darkest parts of me to possibly help another? Or do I hide it to save myself from others' judgments?
I've written about a lot of personal things in my blog, but there is SO MUCH MORE that I keep private because I'm just not sure I can deal with the consequences. It's a shame, too, because this blog is therapy for me. In order to process thoughts and ideas or deal with issues in my life, I need to be free to work through them without the fear of criticism and judgment. I've questioned using a public blog for such things... in the end, my hope lies in not just working through my own issues, but helping others who identify with similar issues. Plus, everyone wants to be heard. It's not a crime. And I won't apologize for being human.
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