First Annual Blogging Against Disablism

I heard about the Blogging Against Disablism at Fat Heffalump's blog. She was addressing the hatred and scorn of fat people in general as well as the fear of fat disabled people and the diatribe thrown at fat people about how being fat is going to MAKE them disabled. I have a whole 'nother blog about being a Chubster in a thin-centric society. Of course on the whole I do not see being fat as a disability, it's just a body type. There are fat people of varying physical ability levels including Fathletes, just as there are thin and mid-size people of varying ability levels and I for one think it's time that society stopped treating a large body type as a disability or character defect. It's just a body. Get over it, you jackasses.

But that's not what I came here to talk to you about.

I came to talk about mental illness.

To me, disablism means treating a disabled person with hate and fear, or patronizing them. This does happen to physically disabled people. People act like they're going to "catch" the person's disability, or treat the person like they're stupid. This is also done to people who have conditions causing mental retardation, and it is surely done to individuals with mental illness.

Since being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, I have learned that there are far more people with mental illness than society wishes to acknowledge. The reason that the numbers would come as a surprise to most people is that a mental disability, unlike a physical one, cannot necessarily be seen. Many people with mental illness are perfectly able-bodied, and unlike the media would have the public believe, most people with mental illness do not project it. The person wandering around shouting or talking to people no-one else sees is not the average mentally ill civilian. 

Most people with mental illness do not suffer from psychosis or delusions. Violence is also not the norm, whether or not psychosis or delusions are present. There are a small number of people with conditions such as paranoid schizophrenia who believe that they are being threatened by certain other individuals and react violently in order to protect themselves from an imagined threat. Persons with antisocial personality disorder (sociopaths) may also visit violence on animals or other humans. But in fact most persons with these disorders are not violent either.

I have said before and I will say again:

MOST PEOPLE LIVING WITH MENTAL ILLNESS SUFFER IN SILENCE.

The instant one tells people that they are mentally ill, everything changes. Were I to tell someone I'd just met that I had bipolar disorder, they would likely start to treat me differently. 

"She's a ticking time bomb," they'd think. "When is she going to explode and go off on a tangent about nothing? Is she going to start acting like Charlie Sheen and talking about tiger blood and being a warlock? These people with bipolar disorder are nothing but crazy!"

Charlie Sheen's illness is complicated by drug use, which exacerbates certain symptoms. His struggle is very public because he has the money to do things that most people do not. He has been jailed in the past when his behavior turned violent, but never placed in a psychiatric facility which may have been capable of assisting him. He is also in denial about his illness and might not be able to benefit from help until he acknowledges his issues. Charlie Sheen is the kind of mentally ill person that gets press. The average Jane or Joe does not.

There are also different degrees and presentations with any mental health condition. I can speak about bipolar disorder, borderline personality disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder because I live with all of these. I can also speak about depression because depression is a big part of bipolar disorder, at least for me. I have type II bipolar disorder, which has hypomanias rather than manias. I tend to go into depressive states more often than I experience hypomania, which is unfortunate because I am extremely productive during hypomanic states. My moods are not only controlled by my brain chemistry. Outside influences can push my mood in one direction or another--just like happens with Normal People. Surprise! And these days, in this economy, there are far more circumstances that will push the Depression Button than the Hypomania Switch.

I have rapid cycling bipolar disorder. My cycles between depression, hypomania, and baseline states tend to average 7-10 days each. Other people may experience a given state for months or even years. I tend, as I said, to go into depression more readily. Someone like Charlie Sheen may be more easily triggered to mania, and his time in a given state may last for a much longer time than someone who rapid cycles. When he crashes, it's going to be bad. What sickens me is that a lot of people will see his decline as nothing more than further entertainment for themselves. It is a sorry thing when people see the misfortune of another as entertainment.

That being said, I fully support the 999 Eyes Freak Show. These folks have taken their "disabilities" and "abnormalities" and turned them into a platform to entertain and amaze. Many of the old-time sideshow performers were not happy when laws came into place to protect them from exploitation. The laws that were supposed to protect them ended up preventing them from earning a living. But that is a different story altogether, and you can read more about it here. My point is that it is fine to celebrate our uniqueness and utilize what might otherwise be seen as a disability, turning it into a unique ability.

Is being mentally ill a disability? I would say from my perspective, yes it is. There are many things I fear doing. I fear having people know too much about me. I have come to realize that it is really not possible for me to get very close to people. If I am behaving in a way that someone perceives as abnormal, rather than pointing out to me what I'm doing, the person generally rejects me wholesale. This rejection hurts me months and years later. So I fear letting people in. This exacerbates the loneliness and isolation that I feel. I realized many years ago that I could not be involved with anyone in either a romantic or sexual fashion. This bothers me a lot less than the fact that I really can't be very close to people in a platonic manner either. It seems that I am doomed to a life of isolation, where I work and come home to my pets, having a little interaction here and there but generally being very much alone. That above all things is the worst part for me of living with mental illness.

Most people who meet me do not know that I have any disability. I don't believe that a slight limp qualifies as a disability. Most people meeting me for the first time would simply see a fat, somewhat frumpy, un-hip middle aged woman. I might present as socially awkward, but you'd never know I was one of THEM! The crazies, the Attic People, The People Under The Stairs, the rejects. I have accepted my disability, I have become outraged by the stigma placed on people with all disabilities but because I know how it feels, I focus my attention on ending the stigma on those of us who suffer in silence. 

If my disease could be eradicated tomorrow, would I go through with the change? It would be nice to not have to worry about my brain making me feel suicidally depressed. It would be nice to not struggle with hoarding objects (OCD) and it would be nice to not have rejection be so devastating that it turns me into a useless lump. But I have lived with these patterns for so long that even if the chemical imbalances could be eradicated, I'm not sure I could ever be "normal." I'm not even sure I'd want to be. Because if I were, then I wouldn't be me any more. 

Maybe who I would be if my mental illness were removed would in fact be better. Maybe she'd be content to work as a nurse or a secretary and not have crazy ideas about being an artist or writer. Maybe she'd fit in better. Maybe I'd be happier being her because she wouldn't be an outcast. But my knee jerk reaction is "run away fast! I don't want to be just like Number 12!" 

Still, there is a temptation, just like it would be tempting to be beautiful even at the cost of ten or twenty years of my life if such an option were available. I've never been beautiful--never even been close. And while I think that everyone should be treated with kindness and dignity no matter their physical appearance, part of me can't help wishing that I were thin (because it's socially acceptable) and beautiful. 

Being mentally ill hurts enough without the rejection and stigma that comes with it. In most ways I am pleased to be the middle finger flying on high at those who think themselves so perfect that they reject those who are different. But I regret every day of my life that I will never know how it feels to be loved.

"For although nepenthe has calmed me, I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men. This I have known ever since I stretched out my fingers to the abomination within that great gilded frame; stretched out my fingers and touched a cold and unyielding surface of polished glass."

--H.P. Lovecraft

The Outsider