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Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to give a presentation on mental illness to a group of ninth-graders through the Bipolar Babe project. I spoke about stigma and my personal story of mental illness. I told them all about my bipolar disorder, my diagnosis, treatments, treatment failures, vagus nerve stimulator, electroconvulsive therapy and more. And at the end of the presentation, the kids had a chance to fill out feedback forms, and one of the words they used surprised me – inspirational.
In truth, when I look at my career as a crazy person, I don’t feel inspirational. I feel mostly like a failure. I feel like someone who has seen psychiatrist after psychiatrist and has tried medication after medication and tried treatment after treatment, mostly to no avail. If you line up all the times I’ve failed, it’s one heck of a long line.
But the funny thing is, through all this failure, the kids saw hope and inspiration. They saw something I obviously needed to be reminded of.
I didn’t give up.
I faced failure; I faced doctors telling me that I was beyond hope; I faced my own fears of being beyond fixing and I kept going.
I can’t believe it, actually. My psychiatrist told me to drop out of university because I would never be able to handle it with bipolar disorder. But I graduated with a bachelor’s of computer science.
I was rejected for treatment by three separate doctors – them saying I was beyond help and that there was nothing they could do – and yet I continued until I found one who would treat me (successfully).
It’s actually quite extraordinary.
And it took the kids to remind me of it and I am extremely grateful for it.
A scientist will tell you that a lack of results is still a result in itself – and it is. So in other words, “failing” a medication isn’t really failing at all; it’s just the creation of another data point. That medication didn’t work for you. That combination didn’t work for you. Time to move onto something else. If you hadn’t tried it, then you wouldn’t have that data point or that option to cross off the list.
So for me, all those “failures” led to the place where I am today where I can say “all these things didn’t work, but this (finally) did.”
So my failures are wins. My continuing through it all is a win. My tenacity (or stubbornness) is a win.
Thank goodness we have kids to remind us of such things.
Natasha Tracy is an award-winning writer, speaker, advocate, and consultant from the Pacific Northwest. She has been living with bipolar disorder for 26 years and has written more than 2000 articles on the subject.
Find more of Natasha’s work in her acclaimed book: "Lost Marbles: Insights into My Life with Depression & Bipolar" on Amazon.
Connect with Natasha at the social media links below.
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I’m never going to call bipolar pain a “gift.” Most days, I just want it to stop. But emotional and even physical pain aren’t always random torture—they’re often trying to tell us something. This piece digs into what your pain might be saying, how to listen, and how that can make living with it just a little easier.
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Just want to share something inspiring by teacher Mark Lyn from The Guardian November 15 2012:
“What I have essentially realised from this experience is that all my life I have tried harder and harder to become a non-disabled person, only to experience my boundaries and potential being limited by the extent that I can pull it off, rather than letting my own abilities come through when being myself, which includes being a disabled person. I think I can excel in other ways that I’m just beginning to imagine.
I think also, if I’m being honest for just a moment, that my attempt at coming out as a stammerer was an attempt to be totally free from being bothered about how I speak, rather than accepting that for me speaking often presents a mental trouble that I will have to deal with, that isn’t going to go away; it’s just a very real part of my disability. I will often be troubled by how I speak. But it is something that I also have to own.”
Great article about disablity/ability dichotomy with lots of applicability for us bipolars
But mental illness is not ‘just’ a disability. It’s not like (me) coming out as deaf, or someone being blind, or with some physical disability. It’s different because mental illness scares people. A lot!
Sure, I am comfortable in telling people ‘I’m bipolar’ but it rarely does me any favours for being so open and honest! The other person’s eyes generally show fear or wariness (“Oh sh#t! I’m with a nutter! I’m feeling uncomfortable, even scared. What is he going to do? These people don’t do ‘normal’…”) Or else they show unhelpful doe-eyed sympathy. (“Ahhh, poor dear. It must be very hard for you… How are you feeling today? Have a biscuit.”)
Either way, being open about my disability rarely opens doors to a job! In fact, it only opened one but another candidate, someone else with a mental illness, got the job – the job was with a mental health charity.
It’s one thing to be comfortable about being who we are – and I am Bipolar, Dysthymic, very hard-of-hearing, over weight & diabetic (thanks to the Bipolar), with OSA (probably due to the weight gain) – I’m just about used to accepting that lot, although I’m not exactly celebrating much of it . But it’s quite another to be comfortable about revealing my mental illness to others when it comes to employment. I am comfortable with “me” – indeed, I think that some of that rotten cocktail of ailments has made me a better person, because it has enabled me to be empathetic towards others, not just sympathetic to their lot. That makes me more kind, compassionate and so, better able to be a good manager of people, a leader. That’s all warm and squishy cuddly. Except I am no longer a manager or leader (save for being a parent) because I’m not working, because no beggars out there are interested in employing a bloke of my age, with the length of time I have been out of work, and especially not one with Bipolar Disorder. Given the economic conditions, it’s hard enough to get a job as it is without the disability hurdle as well.
(As you will have observed, I am not enjoying the finest of my BP moods today …)
I agree Harry, there is more than just disability – there is the stigma attached too. And while most disabilities carry some stigma (e.g. people tend to make incorrect assumptions about the character or intelligence of the stutterer) there are none that invoke such fear as mental illness does.
I guess from this message we can take the thought that at least we don’t have to pretend to ourselves about who we are, or spend pointless energy trying to restrict, rather than enhance ourselves. I’m not about to flush my medication down the toilet but I think I will stop fighting some of my creative impulses so much. The fear of my own illness is probably the biggest stigma to face.
I do not attach the term “stigma” I will not attach the term “stigma”I do not attach the term “stigma” I will not attach the term “stigma”I do not attach the term “stigma” I will not attach the term “stigma”I do not attach the term “stigma” I will not attach the term “stigma”I do not attach the term “stigma” I will not attach the term “stigma”
We are not alone. X
Wow!! I can’t thank you enough for this post. Out of the mouths of babes, even if they are 16!! I never took the time to look at it from this perspective and I am so grateful that I can now. I have been really struggling with medications these past few months. And just for our friend Cheryl, I have tired taking nothing which was a VERY bad idea with an even worse outcome!! I have tried more than 25 different medications/combinations of medications over the past 3 years. The ones that were working are not working any longer. So my doctor and I are once again searching for a new combo. I have been a bit down about the constant trying and having to switch and trying and having to switch. Now I can look at it in a new light and give myself some credit for not giving up. I won’t give up, because I know somewhere there will be an answer for me.
Hi Norelle,
I’m thankful they broadened by perspective as well.
“Now I can look at it in a new light and give myself some credit for not giving up. I won’t give up, because I know somewhere there will be an answer for me.”
That’s great. Congratulations. You deserve the credit. Positive thoughts.
– Natasha Tracy
I am glad you are here to remind us not to give up. I feel like giving up almost every day but my son keeps me going because I just remind myself if I am gone no one will be here to raise him. It is wonderful that you can give hope to young ones. I wish I would have heard your speech when I was young. I have had depression for as long as I can remember. I found out my mom did too and was almost hospitalized. I never knew this growing up. I am glad there are people like you who decide to share their stories and give a voice for those of us who are not brave enough to. I think your blog is one of the best I have ever seen on mental illness so please don’t stop sharing your stories.
thank you,
april
Hi April,
Thanks so much for your kind words. In truth, I feel like giving up so much of the time, but, like you, I find reasons not to.
I plan on continuing to share and I hope it helps.
– Natasha Tracy
Any chance we could get to see some of the details of the presentation? I’d love to hear what you told the kids.
Hi David,
It’s actually a pretty long presentation – more than an hour. I’ll be doing many so maybe I’ll get one recorded and put it on YouTube. Thanks for your interest :)
– Natasha Tracy
‘Inspirational’? Teaching kids that emotional distress is actually a brain disorder which is kept in check with brain damaging ‘treatments’. Well I don’t call that inspirational. I call that PR for psychiatry.
Cheryl, Bipolar Disorder is not *just* “emotional distress”. It’s a serious mental disorder, with many causes, and it kills people.
Great inspiring post.. Its all about how you look at it.. Kids seem to look at things in a more positive light, they can really open our eyes at times. I really enjoyed this and it helped me a bit today as well.. :)
Hi Shauna,
I’m happy to help :) I really never thought that 16-year-olds would have taught me such a lesson, but I guess we get surprised everyday. I sure don’t remember the 16-year-olds being such when I actually was one.
– Natasha Tracy
There’s a reason I check this site nearly every day…
Thanks Sarah, that’s sweet of you. I hope I don’t disappoint.
– Natasha Tracy
Have any of you watched Generation RX?
You might have added that just still being alive is a success – you’re a survivor of Bipolar Disorder! There are many who never make it, but you have.
Hi Harry,
I have actually said that before and believe it to be true. “Just” surviving is pretty tough – so where’s my cookie ;)
– Natasha Tracy
A cookie? If I knew where ya lived I’d send you a box of ’em! Might even drop by to help eat ’em, too!
But seriously, yeah – I know how true it is. Been there – got the t-shirt. Hope not to go there again but I’ve a feeling I will.
I like to say that you don’t “fail” medication, the medication fails you.
Oh, and you ARE inspirational. And you write kick-ass blogs.
Medication fails – A subtle but *very* important point! Well said, Sam!
Hi Sam,
I know. And I say that to people too, but that it’s how it feels. Which we probably all know.
And thanks :)
– Natasha Tracy
You are inspiring ! I felt tears spring up in my eyes just after reading the first two paragraphs! Keep on fighting and giving us hope!
Hi ShelleyBellyelly,
Wanna know a secret? I actually cried while writing it. They warned me the kids would touch me and they were totally right.
Of course. I’ll keep fighting and I hope to give others hope.
– Natasha Tracy