Yesterday, I visited my family doctor yesterday whom I haven’t seen since September.
She was very interested in my BPD diagnosis and had felt that the previous diagnosis of Bipolar2 was pretty accurate based on the symptoms I had described to her.
It’s pretty baffling for me to explain the way my psychiatrist’s mind works. It’s very hard to get definitive answers from her since she tends to deflect and qualify her answers quite a bit, leaving me more confused in the end.
It’s partly my fault – I don’t press her enough. I don’t know why I don’t – she’s not overbearing or fearsome or anything.
I think the next time I see her, I need to ask if she in any way feels Bipolar2 is a secondary diagnosis.
In an way, all the conditions tend to overlap in terms of symptoms – BPD, Bipolar, PTSD, General Anxiety Disorder, Dysthymia, Major Depressive Disorder, etc.
I prefer to use the same phrase Warren Zevon used to describe the diagnosis of cancer he received from his doctor: ‘My shit’s fucked up.’
In this case, it’s in the head.
Of course, I can’t walk around telling people that I’m the way I am because ‘my shit’s fucked up.’ Especially with clinicians – so I have to check my memory boxes and tick off all the things I’ve been diagnosed and perhaps mis-diagnosed with.
But in reality, essentially, my shit’s fucked up.
Yes, I just like saying it and typing it. Because it’s accurate and, for me, it lays out the whole frustration of trying to explain all the disorders I’ve been diagnosed with. Like, ‘dude, you have to meet five of the following nine attributes listed in the DSM V to have BPD – let’s just say my shit’s fucked up, OK?’
I would use that as the title of my coming podcast but I think it might not go down well with podcast hosts. I would also not want to offend anyone without my particularly weird sense of humor.
I have to laugh at all of it or I’d be bed-fetal, watching re-runs of Gilligan’s Island, OK? And none of us want that.
There are people with various mental illnesses, Gods bless ‘em, who have the ‘cross I bear’ attitude and that’s OK for them – hell, I used to BE one of them. But I can’t go through the rest of my life feeling like I’m carrying some kind of dark cloud (like Joe Btfsplk in Lil’ Abner – geez, am I dating myself!) to my death.
And people are far more receptive to listening about Borderline Personality Disorder if you add a little humor and keep your hands in plain sight.
So, look, I’m not in to boiling bunnies and writing love letters in my own blood.
I’m just a guy whose shit’s fucked up, OK?
Thank you all for reading.