I have bipolar disorder. Not much I can do about it; not much of an ethical paradox. It is what it is.
But that is not the whole of my dilemma. I also happen to be
a writer that writes about a whole range of subjects including my experience of
living with a mental illness. My predicament is whether to use my own name when
writing about the personal stuff. Should I tell the world – with all its
prejudices – that I have bipolar disorder? Or should I use a pseudonym,
effectively protecting me from stigma and prejudice? Will outing myself
negatively impact on my professional profile or will it contribute in some
small way to helping others?
One of the best ways to overcome stigma and prejudice, of
course, is to ‘out’ it. It is becoming increasingly common for celebrities to
talk of personal experiences of depression and various mood disorders. It is
less common for those with schizophrenia to have access to such advocates. For
us mere mortals, personalising mental illness relies on a certain amount of
courage and, some might say, madness.
Given that those with mental illnesses, like any minority
group, have long been shunned by certain sections of society, more needs to be
done than merely talking about the need to break down the barriers faced by
sufferers. Action, they say, speaks louder than words. My writing on bipolar
disorder aims, amongst other things, to help break down barriers towards mental
illness to raise awareness and to de-stigmatise the widely misunderstood
illness. Bipolar disorder a mood disorder, previously known as manic
depression, is characterised by differing expressions and combinations of high
and low moods, from extreme mania and psychosis to suicidal depression.
Admitting that I write about bipolar disorder inevitably
leads to being asked whether I have bipolar disorder or a mental illness. When
I say that I do, I am bombarded by a whole raft of other personal and
confronting questions such as: ‘what makes you bipolar?’; ‘what are the
craziest things you have done when you are high?’. Or, my personal favourite,
‘have you ever been suicidal?’.
Some questions are easy to answer; others less so. Such
questions seem to challenge the actual diagnosis that took so long to reach and
was such a relief to hear. I was diagnosed in 2007 after a decade and a half of
extreme ups and downs. Other questions are painful because they make me
remember things I did, or feelings I felt, when I was unwell.
Herein lays my dilemma. I obviously want my writing to raise
awareness and help to remove the stigma of mental illness, but at what personal
cost? I am left wondering: do I, in an effort to break down mental illness’
stigma, actually have an ethical obligation to “come out” and declare my hand?
But how far should I go in disclosing my illness? Should I tell the world or
protect myself from any uncomfortable questioning?
If I do declare my hand, my writing will probably have
greater authenticity than if I merely write as an interested observer. But, the
flow-on effect might be too close for comfort.
The successful treatment of a mental illness requires
personal acceptance that one actually has a mental illness. Reaching this point
is, for many people, easier said than done. However, doing so empowers one to
take control over treatment plans and, perhaps most importantly, to take
responsibility for taking the medication that is such an important part of the
management regime. Accepting that you have a mental illness, or in my case
bipolar disorder, is an enormous and vital step in achieving balance. Coming
out publically is a whole other ball game.
My family obviously know that I am crazy! I have also been
quite candid with some of my friends, colleagues and acquaintances. But whether
to tell everyone who asks me is another matter entirely.
There are some downsides to such a declaration, not
including the personal questions that inevitably follow. There is a tendency
for well-meaning people to interpret all behaviour as fitting the ‘mentally ill’
profile and to dismiss emotions as less important than those of ‘sane’ people.
Then there are the issues associated with attitudes and
assumptions that affect my family and friends. Do I want parents and guardians
of my son’s friends knowing my personal medical history before we know each
other’s last names? No, I probably don’t.
Do I want to put myself in the firing line and subject
myself to the very prejudices that I am trying to extinguish? I’m not sure if
it is the best thing to do, but telling the world and everyone else that will
listen certainly does feel like the right thing to do. For me, I have chosen to
put myself out there and to use my illness in order to raise the profile of
mental illness and, hopefully, to be of some help to my fellow travellers. It
is also helping me to make sense of negotiating the ups and downs of the highs
and lows.
This is why I have chosen not to use a pseudonym.
