Recent family events have brought acceptance, being accepting, of others, of facts, into light. I won’t go into details because they aren’t relevant to what I have to say, but acceptance has been an underlying theme in my life for some time now. That is, I have trouble accepting, not others so much as myself: my life, the facts of my life.
Fact: I have bipolar disorder. Fine. I learned that in 1994 and have had plenty of time to accept it. If anything, it was a relief knowing why I led the life I did at the time.
Fact: Since December 2006, I have been on disability for bipolar disorder. Not so fine. I am reasonably intelligent, I have a graduate degree, my budding teaching career was promising as was my writing career; my writing career still holds promise. People like me aren’t on disability; people like me lead successful lives. People on disability are physically disabled; those who are mentally disabled are unable to hold down jobs, let alone take care of their own basic needs like hygiene and feeding themselves, and are uneducated.
Fact: On most days, I have to force myself into the shower and feel overwhelmed by toasting a bagel or tossing a frozen entree into the microwave. This is the third season in a row that I have been unable to play on a hockey team, not so much because I’m out of shape, but, as a goaltender, I can’t commit to 20 or so games over the next 6 months because I don’t know how I’m going to feel from day to day — never mind having a job — I don’t know for sure that I could show up when I’m supposed to. I can’t even commit to a workout schedule that I set up myself. Yet I am educated and physically able, but I am also disabled.
Disability has many faces. Accepting this is much harder because one of those faces is my own, and that my disability is what’s referred to as invisible. It’s especially so because my affect, what in psychiatry is referred to as “an expressed or observed emotional response,” is not that of someone suffering from severe bipolar depression: both in my online and in person interactions with others, I come off as someone able to laugh and have fun, all of it genuine. Sometimes even my pdoc is baffled and relies more on my behavior (inability to do this or that; disinterest in things that normally interest me; lack of concentration, sleep, etc.) rather than my affect to gauge the severity of the depression. Fortunately, Brian and I are observant in this regard, and although I may be laughing about something while sitting in my pdoc’s office, I can describe the behavioral aspects of my life that aren’t — not “normal” — but more accurately, at baseline. Then again, my depression, at its severest, includes withdrawing from people, both online and in person, so they wouldn’t see me at my worst, anyway.
I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for me to accept the fact that I’m on disability — clearly, I am dis-abled: I know this and understand this. I don’t like it, but who would? I’ve described the picture of what I think people on disability are “supposed” to be like: I’m unable to hold down a job and often have trouble taking care of my basic needs. In this, I’m accurate; but I am wrong, very wrong, in that “these” people are uneducated.
I think the fact is all kinds of people are on disability. Not just uneducated. I still struggle with being on disability because of the preconcieved idea of what that is. I don’t look disabled, so therefore I am not.
I have been on disability for a few years now. Because of my bipolar disorder. I have alot of mixed/rapid cycles, so it has been almost impossible to work outside of my own apt.
I had a nice thing going as a Correctional Officer. I am educated, and was leading a comfortable lifestyle. House, car, toys and the whole thing. But I lost all that because I can’t committ to anything. Not even volunteering. My moods were impossible to tackle while trying to work.
But I do have a chance at a decent life. I just have to rearrange things a bit. Finding the terms to which you can accept yourself as you are, whether that be a working girl or one on disability. Try to get that stigma out of your head. It is hard, but you are no less a person than people not on disability. You just have an illness that you can take care of better on disability.
I know several people who are educated and on disability. So that to me doesn’t hold much water. Good, successful people can end up not being able to work. Hang in there.
Boo´s last blog ..Naked As A Jaybird
I obviously have — or had — a preconceived notion of what people on disability are like. It’s good to know there are educated people such as yourself that are also on disability. That helps me a lot, and I think it would help more people if more of us speak up. It’s hard to get rid of stigma when you still feel it towards yourself.
I also used to volunteer and miss it terribly. Right now, it’s all I can do to keep my various doctor appointments and the few social engagements I have. I’ve made a commitment to myself to work hard on (re)managing this disease and that’s what gets me to therapy each week.
As you mentioned, I’m learning to rearrange certain aspects of my life to make things easier. For example, my therapy sessions are in the early afternoon so I avoid rush hour traffic.
Thank you for sharing your experiences.
Keep at it. My writing has suffered greatly in the past year b/c of my moods and medications. I go to group therapy(support) on occassion. You’ll be surprised at the people who have lost everything b/c of mental illness. Of course there are those that fit right into the sterotype.
Just by doing what you are doing is busting that stigma. You are trying, setting goals and living. You can be proud of that. Not ashamed. I have been going through your blog and find it fascinating.
Thank you. I’ve been to several outpatient programs, but group therapy is a great idea. I’ll definitely look in that.
Oooh so much in common
Doing volunteer work seems to be a theme amongst those of us who don’t fit the stereotype. We still need to work and be needed in some capacity even when everyone’s telling us to stop and get well.
Sometimes I think it would be easier to have a broken leg – something tangeable people can see. And it would be easier if we had the manic episodes that made us run down the street naked, or pick flowers on motorway verges lol. Then our diagnosis wouldn’t be doubted by those who don’t really know what being bipolar is.
One of my worst days after my first hospital admission was when the disablilty benefit department wrote to tell me I didn’t need to provide anymore evidence because I was now on their list of people who whould never be well enough to go back to work. I’m always going to have a problem with that.
For all the right reasons, it’s reassuring to read that I’m not the only person with a mental illness who feels this way.
I think you’re doing the right thing by re-focusing on managing the bipolar. I wish you well with it.
x
Michelle´s last blog ..Pffffffffft.
Stop and get well — exactly, but it’s so hard to stop, even when I can barely shower every day!
Sometimes I still find myself surfing the net in my pajamas, looking for programs I might go back to school for, no matter how unrealistic that is.
But one of the interesting things I found was a Disabilities Studies Department. And guess what? The disabilities they concentrate on are the visible ones, not the invisible ones like we have. *shakes head*
I think I’d be devastated, certainly at first, to receive a letter such as you did, about not being able to work again. I know that some people have to re-apply every year, or at least be interviewed. Well, it’s been nearly 4 years (hard to believe!) and not once has anyone contacted me about that. Maybe if you’ve had ECT you get put on “the list” by default.
Currently, I’m searching for more blogs written by others who have bipolar and/or depression and also feel this way. I need to reconnect with others going through this.
I regularly look for courses too! I have to keep trying to be an effective member of society. It’s frustrating to think that I might have done all that studying and working – and it all be for nothing.
I’ve been looking for other blogs like ours too – I haven’t found anything yet. Please let me know if you find a good one
Michelle´s last blog ..Pffffffffft.
Well, at least I’m not the only one! Actually, I’ve stopped looking — my student loan payments are huge, and honestly, I don’t know if I could handle the work, in terms of comprehending what I read let alone remembering it. I’ve stopped worrying — OK, obsessing — about that for now and concentrating on improving my quality of life.
I can say that I often feel “useless” for being on disability when I worked so hard in school; that it was all a big waste even though deep down I know it wasn’t.
As for other bipolar blogs, I’m not sure how active the Webring still is, but you should check out the bipolar planet Webring. It’s in the left sidebar under Webrings & Blog Directories.
I admire you so much for being open and honest about all of this, most people can’t. You are one of the strongest and smartest people I know. I’m so glad I get to interract with you from day to day.
Robin´s last blog ..When Avitable Crosses The Line
Thanks, Robin. It really took me a long time to finally post about this because of the shame and for fear of offending anyone. I’m glad it’s finally out there.
And where would I be without you on Twitter every day?
I’ll take a look thanks
Michelle´s last blog ..Pffffffffft.
[...] By Barb Natividad, Bloggo Chicago [...]
It looks like you’re cycling again Barb. You have a six months to a year, and then you have another year or two rough. ((hugs)) I STILL got nothing but love for ya. I’m glad you got on disability in ’06. I remember when you were applying. Woah, that makes me a seriously long-time reader. Ha! Oh, and it’s April, from formerly krisandapril.net and formerly femtique.net, and formerly ayprel.com. lol.
Yeah, I used to rapid cycle a lot. Now, it’s like I’ll do pretty good (not great or baseline) but then I’ll have a rough go of things again. I’m learning to pace myself, but it’s really hard!
And of course I remember you! We met online back when Brian and I lived at our old place, so that had to be around 2003, 2004. You were still in undergrad. Thanks for being here for me through all these years, April. (((hugs)))
I messed up the sentence. I meant, “You have a good six months to a year…”