It’s like I am becoming the girl who represents the DSM-V, the book the psychiatric professionals use to diagnose professionals. We all know I am beautifully bipolar. Most of you also know I have obsessive compulsive disorder that commonly revolves around germs. I have major anxiety disorder, just trust me on that one.
Recently I have received two new labels. The first borderline personality disorder which I fought, but to which both my psych doctor and therapist agreed was an appropriate diagnosis. And then today – PTSD, which wasn’t much of a surprise because I’ve heard that before when talking about my abusive ex-boyfriend to professionals. This new counselor said she hated assigning names of illnesses to people because then they think they are crazy. I smiled and laughed a little and told her no insult taken, I know I am crazy. And that’s okay.
Mental illness comes in many forms. Sometimes it simply one diagnoses due to trauma, other times it has to do with the chemicals in our brains. For me, it is a little of both. But what can I do but trust my psych doc and therapist and give every day my best shot. I can’t necessarily beat it, don’t want to join it, but I can fight for a healthy, stable life.
I am soon to start EMDR, a therapy I don’t completely understand, and honestly have little faith in. But my psych doc pushed me to try it so I am going to. Hell, it couldn’t hurt right? Maybe I can grow less scared in a crowd and not have panic attacks in the grocery store.
So, no matter what label they put on you, know it isn’t your fault — none of the illnesses. It’s outside forces or chemicals that you were born with and surfaced later in life. You can learn to live a productive life. A fun life filled with love and compassion both for and from others. Chin up, dear reader. You got this.