the DSM as an atlas

Mental health diagnoses and the boundaries between them are like countries and their borders. I doubt this is an original analogy but it came in handy as I was talking with two people recently. Both have partners with mental health challenges. And both people, and their partners, struggle with the pathologizing of behaviour that happens in the DSM.

In talking with them, I was trying to help them understand how much formal diagnoses have both helped and hindered me. And because of the issues they were dealing with, I emphasized how much they have helped. I definitely feel more helped than hindered by the characterisation of my conditions. Pathologizing them is also sometimes, but not as often, helpful.

In one case we were discussing Aspergers Syndrome, which, after much deliberation and a formal process, technically no longer exists. But, like, Tibetans, Aspies will probably continue to forever identify themselves, meaningfully, and helpfully, as such.

What’s cool to me about the analogy is that it works so well. Yes, many of the borders between countries are artificial, and yet they definitely mean something: experiences are often quite different in one country versus another. And in the regions where borders intersect, sometimes the characters of two or more regions are shared. While we may change the borders and names of countries (and conditions), the characteristics of the underlying people reflect something that endures despite what name we give them. And changes to names or borders are usually the result of our changing understandings of what is happening within, and to, those regions. Perhaps most powerfully: whether and how we construct borders shapes what happens to the people within them.

I would even go so far as to say there is a topography to the borders between some mental health conditions: Bipolar Disorder and Schizophrenia definitely share a border. In some places the border is a sharp chasm of psychosis to be found after ascending a mountain and falling off the cliff of mania. In other places the border is a hostile region of unpredictable geography and fuzzy boundaries that has emerged as a diagnosis of its own: schizo-affective disorder.

My feelings about the DSM are on kin with my feelings about stereotypes. As reluctant as we might be to admit it, they both serve a purpose. The critical issues are: where do they come from, what do they communicate about the people they are purporting to characterise, and, how and why are we using them?

 

you know you are getting old when …

You spend two minutes looking for your keys which are exactly where they should be.

Your doctors want you on more daily medications for your body than your mind. Why do they all have to be the same size, and colour (shape, I understand)? Thank God I know what my meds taste like. I wonder how many med-mix ups could be avoided by designing pills or their packaging differently.

Anyway, just hit myself over the head, with a hefty dose of medication, in order to get back to sleep.

relationships …

This morning I had a rare text exchange with the last man who stole my heart. Meeting him was one of those instances of mutual love at first sight, and last Spring we had a wonderfully intense, if brief, romance.

I dumped him because more than fifty percent of the time he just couldn’t show up when he said he was going to.

I really did like him, and the feeling was clearly mutual. In a fairly short while I grew to care about him, so we stayed in touch … kind of. He really was incredibly incapable of the basic requirements of maintaining a relationship. When we’d run into each other we would chat. At one point I gave him a second chance, which, true to form, he blew. But by then I had learned a bit more about him. One of the things I learned was all the medication he was on, possibly for bipolar disorder, though that wasn’t how he understood it. I gave up on making plans or even expecting calls or messages to be returned. I would periodically just drop him a line or run into him, and I would take things as they came with no expectations. Sometimes I would hear back (he was usually thrilled) and when I didn’t hear back, I didn’t hold it against him.

Early on I realised that vulnerability and insecurity were issues for him, and as a result I made a point of being clear and steady in my commitment to being in his life, at least as a friend. Nevertheless, it’s taken me a long while to realise why it was he was so unreliable. His feelings around me (whether of vulnerability or otherwise) were actually psychologically destabilizing for him. Being with me just stirred up emotions that were too intense and difficult to deal with. On the one hand he clearly loved being with me; on the other there was a degree of self-doubt or fear, perhaps of rejection, that I triggered, that made him ridiculously dysfunctional at the most basic requirements of having a relationship: like showing up when you make a plan to have coffee. It seems bizarre for a 40 year old man but it was true. And in fact there was a tenderness about him that I think came from that same place, which was no small part of what I found so attractive about him.

A year later, and after six months of blissful calm on the mood front (attention and focus, that’s been another story!) a series of events, and perhaps the change in season, have made the last six weeks a much bumpier ride. That’s coincided with my meeting two men that I’m interested in; and all of a sudden I understand firsthand what my buddy last year was going through.

It’s true I haven’t failed to show up for any dates. But of the two men I’ve met, the one who falls into the “love at first sight” category (at least for me) I’ve tried hard to steer clear of. I am so thankful my gym has more than one location.  Despite a pretty clear indication of interest, I just don’t have it in me right now to navigate getting to know someone who leaves me feeling awestruck by his physical beauty. The second guy has snuck up on me. We hung out a few times, and stayed in touch, but we were both clear that we weren’t looking for a relationship (why do we say these things to ourselves or to others?). There has never been a spark between us that I could tell. However it’s been comfortable, and over a few months we’ve gradually gotten to know each other. It feels more like a friendship to me but we’ve been a bit more than friends on a couple of occasions. I’ve grown to like him. It’s very unclear if there’s mutual interest on his part in being anything more than friends and suddenly I’m in that territory where there is an emotional vulnerability around him that it feels easier to deal with by pushing him away. And although I haven’t cut off communication, it’s been a temptation on more than one occasion.

I didn’t have the stomach to read the New York Times piece on treating bipolar disorder very closely. I am so frustrated with the mental health system right now and did not want to be aggravated by reading about someone else’s frustrating experiences. But I did catch a central point of the piece: that psychiatry does not seek to heal, treat, or even recognize, the self when dealing with bipolar disorder. No doubt many doctors will disagree, but I think there is a lot of truth to that. I think that is so profoundly sad because when I look at the vulnerability I feel in my current situation (which I don’t consider in any way abnormal, though some of my responses may be) I am reminded of how much the work that I’ve done in talk therapy on resilience and sense of self has made a difference to my mood. And while medication can certainly help, I think it’s tragic that in many cases no emphasis is placed on the other approaches to becoming well. Indeed the very idea of becoming well and not needing constant medication is not a possibility that the psychiatric profession believes in.

The question no one seems to be asking about the Boston Marathon Tragedy

Is what, as a societies, have we done to create the circumstances where someone would want to do something so terrible? There are places in the world where this kind of tragedy happens every single day. We don’t necessarily see that or think of it and that we don’t says a number of things about our societies, not all of them bad. One of the things it suggests is that in the past we have succeeded at creating societies where such behaviour is extremely rare. Why is that changing?

And another

Another month … the last has been rough. For the most part my mood has been fine though sorely tested. My little bird died. And I’ve been dealing with lots of other stuff including a run-in with the psychiatric establishment that has been deeply frustrating. Why can’t people listen?

 

Wow, it’s been over a month…

About three weeks ago I put a fair deal of work into writing a post and then something happened, I think with WordPress, and not only did I lose the post, I had no access to the blog for almost two weeks. The sour taste has more or less gone, but it took a while …

Been doing really well. Got myself a small pet -

Baby Seuss

I’ve been surprised at the many ways in which that is changing my life. I’ve had pets before: birds and and a rabbit for short periods as a child (those were definitely clues to attention issues) family dogs as a child and a teen, and another budgie about twelve years ago. I think my last budgie was sick when I got him. He was a disappointing pet. I put more effort and research into getting Seuss, and as such he seems (it is very hard to tell with birds) to be a healthier animal. He is hand reared and fairly tame. He is also an English budgie; English budgies are temperamentally more comfortable around people.  The experience continues to be very rewarding.

Likely will talk more about the rewards soon! Have also been pretty busy with work and gearing up for the start of my seasonal garden business!