I often find that the people who are most adamantly opposed to “mad pride” are people who want desperately to believe that their illness is not a part of them, that it is some demon come up to possess them– these people are often heavily invested in normal society and crave the feeling of belongingness to an average non-radical community. They become quite reactionary when shown the idea of taking pride in madness as something we are, of who we are as not necessarily bad/dangerous/obscene, because it threatens their ability to cope in the only way they know how: see it less as a sign that they are different from most of the world and more as a physical illness that should be medicated into submission.

Which is not to say that I’m anti-medication, because medication saved my life at one point, but to say that there’s a difference between “medication helps me manage my condition so I can function” and “this is bad and wrong, please give me enough pills to make it go away.”

I think understanding that bipolar was me and I am bipolar– the “dangerous gift” idea– was what allowed me to live with my diagnosis, too. The other idea, that I might have a condition that had a damn fine chance of killing me given my history, and I would have to take medication every day for the rest of my life to try and quiet the stirrings of my soul, seemed unbearable.

Re: The illness/person dichotomy. My mother once asked me a question that brought me to tears because it showed that she got it . She came up to visit and as we were settling in to the living room she asked “What’s the weather report?” She was saying that she knows and understands that I am a whole person, and that like anyone else my mental/emotional states shift and flow like the weather. She was also acknowledging that my weather is intense and highly changeable, so it’s important to check in on the weather report when interacting with me.

Using this analogy, maybe a “normal” person has weather like Venice Beach in CA: between 70 and 85 with a mild breeze 90% of the time. You probably wouldn’t need to ask about the weather report each time you spoke to this person.

The point is, bad internal weather doesn’t mean that my self has disappeared. It’s still me taking actions, making choices. It’s just that I’m sensitive to my internal weather. I have a friend from good nordic stock who sunburns under strong moonlight she’s so pale. When we do stuff together we jointly ensure that we don’t get too much sun and that she always has access to water and sunblock. This is normal. She has different needs than me, we plan to accommodate both needs. Why should it be any different when we accommodate my low tolerance for noise and crowds?

As someone who has felt her identity expand and soar because she’s actually made of objects and moments and vibrating threads attached to every other object and moment in the universe and has believed that some people can see those threads and cut them in an act of psychic warfare, thank you. Thank you for writing this.

The usual response to that is “Well, that’s borderline!” Which is true to some extent, but I refuse to just put it down to that. In all the time I was with her, I never declared any of her behavior “Well, that’s just borderline”. I refuse to start doing so just because she did something that I don’t get or appreciate.

At the same time, I do think there’s some degree to which disorders are more or less “external” overlays. Why? Because a lot of people experience them that way. *shrugs*

Personally, with my background, I would never slot myself as neurodiverse mainly because I try to kill myself, and unmedicated, live with horrid, intrusive thoughts of self harm and paranoia. This is not a normal I want, and as I phrased to a friend the other day, brain sickness isn’t a SOP I’d pick. I find that mental illness isn’t seen in a true light because no one believes the second part-illness. It’s like my favorite myth-the manic depressive as fantabulous artist. It’s detrimental, and reinforces the idea that having a mental illness is some sort of bonus.

I just want it seen as a real issue-that my brain is wired oddly, and does odd things. Not that I’m lazy. But at the same time, I AM irrevocably tied to my illness. It will never go away, and most likely only get worse. My illness has formed me, for good or bad.

I fear we will never have real health reform for mental illness until people see it for the sickness it is. I have never seen it as normal, nor have I wanted to. I wouldn’t wish my illness on anyone, because it causes only misery.

I love that you’ve brought up all of this. I’ve been forming some thoughts on a lot of this-you’re sending me down new rabbit holes. :)

The thing is, I really do suffer from something that appears to attack me and take over my actions and does not feel like myself at all. When it’s not currently happening, I am aware of this. While it’s going on, I may have a vague idea that I have some sort of problem, but I can’t put my finger on it anymore.

I have observed the same, only worse, in someone else I know. When he is psychotic, he mistrusts doctors and doesn’t want to take his meds. However, that is not his actual opinion. If you ask him during a time when he’s doing okay, he’ll tell you that he’s glad to have them.

So what I want to know is, how is anybody supposed to tell the difference? How are people supposed to help us if we cannot ask for it? What if we tell them we don’t want help although we actually do – and I still can’t think of a better way to describe this than by saying we are not being ourselves.

I feel like the illness is removing agency from me, not society. Don’t get me wrong, I agree with most of what you wrote, but this part I don’t understand. I know exactly what it’s like to have conditions that are impossible to separate from your personality – I have a few of those as well. Then there are those that take your personality away and replace it with something else for a while. Both things can exist at the same time. Do you disagree with that or did I misread the post?

The connections you draw between seeing mental illness as something separate from the person and denial of said person’s agency reminds me of behavior I saw during the Child Study Center’s “Ransom Notes” campaign. (The campaign conceived of OCD, anorexia, autism, depression, etc., as child-stealing kidnappers that left “ransom notes” on billboards. Autistic and other disability rights groups effectively campaigned against it). I found at least one comment saying that the Ransom Notes Campaign could prevent even one “sick” kid from shooting up a school (Because our first priority should totally be protecting Us Regular Folks from Teh Scary Crazies, natch < /snark>).

And when you think of a group of people as not having agency, not only can you make (harmful) decisions for them, but if members of that group do disagree with you, it’s really easy to peg them as not having Real Schizophrenia/Autism/etc, etc., whatever; then you can keep theorizing and making decisions with impunity, since anybody who doesn’t like what you’re doing Does Not Count. Hexy examines this phenomenon in her post on neurotypical privilege., and Bev illustrates it with these lovely graphs.

Also, as someone with a neurological/developmental diagnosis and a mental illness diagnosis, thank you so much for stating so clearly that a “mental illness” really is a part of you. To just assume that things my brain does are “pathological” and “wrong” does me a lot of harm; they are signals my body gives me, which mean things and which I need to pay attention to. (A lot of people are discouraged from listening to their bodies, since our culture values production above all else and takes housekeeping and caretaking for granted).

Which is all a long-winded way of saying I loved this post.

I study Disability Studies. It’s not often you hear the Social Model of Disability related to mental illness. It’s fantastic to see people making that link, and talking about the political as well as the person.

Thank you.

So, (o).