Every time I’m asked if I have a pre-existing health condition, I pause a little too long.
Sometimes I tell the truth, sometimes I lie.
I don’t have a problem with my bipolar disorder. But I never know when “I’m bipolar” would condemn me to differential treatment, cost me a job.
And so I lie.
I wish I didn’t have to.
Guilty as judged
I could blame the media for painting bipolar sufferers as erratic and dangerous. But that would be giving us humans too little credit.
For we all possess a capacity for thought. For discerning truth from lies. For deciding what to believe.
If we live in a world where it’s not safe for me to reveal my bipolarism, it’s on us.
The media will always exaggerate, sensationalise, simplify. But the media can’t dictate what we think—we get to choose.
We get to choose if we assume the worst of someone whose only trait we know is “bipolar.” We get to choose if we judge someone guilty even before getting to know them.
We always get to choose.
A world safe for me… and you
I get it. We’re wired to fear the unknown. It’s a survival strategy.
But I’d like to think our unique capacity for conscious thought is worth more than this, this automatic dismissal of a person based on a condition we don’t understand:
When I tell the truth and the other person pauses a little too long, then asks if I’m “being treated.” Are you on medication? Seeing someone?
The other day when a doctor said at the end of my health check, but you look so cheerful!
Every encounter with judgement reminds me I’m different, less than. And it brings me to tears.
This is the world we live in. Not just for me with my bipolar disorder. For anyone who’s ever hesitated to share a part of themselves for fear of discrimination.
Can we not do a better job? Default to curiosity, not judgement, when faced with things we don’t understand?
When I applied for my job with Mark, I revealed my bipolar disorder—my entire mental health history in fact—from the outset. Because I trusted him not to immediately disqualify me for it.
I hope, one day, I can do the same with everyone else.
And if you know what I’m talking about, I wish it for you too.
What do you think?
What is your “bipolar”?
Let’s share all the ways in which we’re uniquely us, without fear. Please hit “reply” or leave a comment—I read every response and I’d love to hear from you. If you enjoyed this, share it with someone who dreams of a world safe for them.
Until next Friday… Stay thoughtful,
Val