Why Having a Bipolar Disorder Label is a Privilege
Lucky to have bipolar disorder… what?
First off, I must acknowledge my privileged healthcare journey. Yes, I’ve been hospitalized, but I have been fortunate to have access to top-notch hospitals and doctors. I have a loving and supportive family. I’m a white male, upper middle class.
From the first time we — my family — sought serious attention for some kind of treatment (can’t I just get a miracle pill??), it was clearly going to be a waiting game. Because the first doctors were unable to identify my correct diagnosis, my journey was complicated and frustrating.
From September 2016 until April 2017, I was hospitalized seven times. With each hospitalization, I learned a little bit more about myself.
With every new diagnosis, I began to look at myself through a different lens. For example, one of my early hospitalizations led to a splattering of diagnoses thrown at the wall with doctors hoping one would stick. It was devastating, infuriating and I couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten to that point. What happened, I would constantly ask. Why???
A flashback: I see myself walking out of my second hospitalization with a medical sheet describing my condition. Even as lifeless as I was on that day, I still had energy to believe furiously that it couldn’t be true. Thankfully, that day no longer holds power in my life. I’m not taking the same medication as when they thought I was anxious or narcissistic. I’m not doing the same Reddit searches like, “can you ever be happy if you have x,y or z?”
Life is different. Life is better. I am privileged to have the right playbook for treatment.
In those early days, I would become paranoid and distressed with the different labels. Would I always be narcissistic? Would my major depressive disorder keep me from being happy? Who would ever want to be in any type of relationship with me? My label of bipolar disorder is not better than any of what I mention above. My label of bipolar disorder is not better than any I’ve mentioned.
Six months after what seemed to be a death sentence, I was finally knighted with the new title, “Bipolar Type 2 Disorder.” The privilege of having the correct label didn't feel like anything worth celebrating. Yes, I am bipolar, so technically I have a disability, and that sucks. But getting to the point where I can be satisfied with my daily life, not feeling like a lab rat, is the goal.
Revolving diagnoses led me to feel like I had different identities. Those days of receiving revolving diagnoses led to a Jason Bourne experience: waking up every day searching through multiple identities handed to me by someone else.
Some people are lucky enough to get a proper diagnosis early. Some have to wait years and bounce around looking for help. I will never be nostalgic for the painful moments due to medical miscalculations, but I will forever be thankful to have that north star and to be in a position where my medical team is on the same page.
Many people I’ve met in psychiatric wards hold few of the privileged characteristics I am fortunate to possess. Whether it’s a socioeconomic disadvantage, or utter lack of familial support, all I can hope is that the friends I made within the hospital walls have finally found their label. A label that will unlock the opportunity for a better life and a more accurate playbook.