Mad Pride and more

One last word, for now, about Mad Pride...

Saying, "I'm mad," is analogous to a person who is gay or lesbian or bipolar or transgendered saying, "I'm queer."

Reclaiming words that in the past were putdowns or slurs or insults can educate the public. They show that you're comfortable with who you are, too. A person first. A member of the human race. You have the right to be treated equally.

Saying, "I'm crazy" or "I'm nuts" or "I'm mad," can really feel good, too. It's all in the way you say it. Smiling, confident. Not cowering or fearful. That's where the "pride" comes in. It's a process, like anything else.

Why does a mental illness diagnosis seem to colour a whole person? A physical illness doesn't. I hate hearing someone say, "I'm diabetic," instead of "I have diabetes." No one says, "I'm cancerous."

We're all unique. Multifaceted.

I never say, "I’m mentally ill." Instead, if I must, "I have a bipolar diagnosis." (That puts the onus on the person who made the diagnosis and who could, quite possibly, be wrong. People heal. Recover.)

I’m also a wife, stepmother, sister, daughter, friend, dog-owner, writer, teacher, volunteer, advocate and public speaker. There are more, but those are the basics.

Why not list all your different facets. As an exercise.

"Coming Out Crazy" is exactly what the healing process is all about. Or can be. In whatever way you want – talking, writing, drawing, dancing, running, playing tennis, working when you love your work, expressing yourself freely in some wonderful way that allows the real "you" to come out. Journaling is great, if you like to write.

Try this! It’s really therapeutic! Fun! And for colour, just click  your mouse a few times in the blank spaces. You'll see!

Let's say you can, with medical supervision, wean yourself off your medication. Or maybe you don’t want to. Or don’t feel ready to. It's all up to you. It's your life!

Let's say you've been emotionally stable for years, like me. I feel more comfortable with medication because of my particular mental and physical health profile. Psychosis. Never depression. Other health reasons, too.

Why do you need a label, other than your name? Or "human." You're YOU!

Saying, "I'm mad," is all part of alleviating the fears some people harbour around mental distress or extreme mental states or illnesses. Even your own. Have fun with it. It helps fight prejudice and discrimination.

You don't even need to say it. Feel it. Smile at yourself in the mirror and say, "So what? Who cares if I take medication to help me maximize my wellness. Yes, I'm mad. I'm me."

There's nothing wrong with you! Whether you have a diagnosis or not. Whether you take medication or not. As long as you don't hurt yourself or anyone else! As long as you're safe and you feel well.

Better still, as long as you're progressing towards being the best person you can be. Whoever that is. That's an ongoing journey. Never ending.

We're all a little a mad. Not everyone can easily "Come Out Crazy," and disclose. It's a process, too. Not necessarily appropriate for everyone. All depends on you. It's a personal choice and something that must feel good for you. Better than keeping everything inside, especially if it festers or bothers you.

Just something to think about.

Comments

[Stephany]

Glad you read my post and found the Jason Polluck scribble art fun!

[Stephany]

oops! I think I wrote the name wrong in previous comment: Jackson Polluck. It's quite fun, if you scribble about enough and hit any key you can read the UK gallery information in the lower right corner.

My readers enjoyed it!

[Gianna]

Hi Sandy,
I've been finding your comments on Furious Seasons and Stephany's blog and so had to come visit you. Nice to find you.

I'd love it if you visited my blog...I think you might find it interesting.

I have conflcted feelings about the whole "mad" movement. I totally appreciate what you're saying and as someone who has been very involved in the "queer" community (as a close friend, ally and professional) I really get it. For me personally though I have a hard time calling myself mad...I simply don't think I am..it doesn't fit how I perceive myself.

I think Mad Pride events can be awfully fun though!! And I have lots of friend who embrace the concept.

thanks for your thoughts...I will spend more time on your blog!

[Sandy Naiman]

Hi Gianna,
I am very flattered you would seek me out. Believe it or not, I've already visited your blog several times. I've also followed your comments on http://www.furiousseasons.com and at Stephany's http://bipolarsoupkitchen-stephany.blogspot.com/. So I feel acquainted with you already. I just haven't commented yet, but I will.
To clarify what I call myself – "Sandy" – and if pressed and in the appropriate context, I'll say I have been in the mental health system for 47 years and I've had at least four different diagnoses. Most of the time, it never comes up.
I call myself a person. I hate labels of any kind. Even designer labels. What a monumental waste of money.
Madness is a state of mind. It's a metaphor, too. It has historical significance and it's political.
I DO NOT call myself a "survivor" or a "consumer survivor" because I don't feel comfortable with either of those labels. Any labels. I'm a psychiatric traveller, I guess, because psychiatry has partially shaped my journey though life.
"I'm still here," as the Stephen Sondheim song goes. Doesn't that imply that I'm a survivor?
I'm about to read a book called "A Brief History of Madness" by Roy Porter. Sometimes I call myself a "lifelong learner."
Don't you think actions speak louder than labels?
I hope my behaviour, at times a little larger than life, speaks for me. I can be a little "nutsy," especially if I'm sleep deprived. That's my nature. I can tell and take a pill to calm myself down or take a nap!
People say I'm exuberant. Always have been. Still am. I was considered "histrionic" as a kid. That's why my mother sent me to a psychiatrist in the first place. Back in 1960, I wasn't into conforming. I was different, then. So was the world. Still am. My nature hasn't really changed. The world has, though.
Today, I like to celebrate difference. (As long as no one gets hurt.) Difference could be considered abnormal, I guess. It's so hooked into language, words, social context, and our perceptions. Everyone perceives differently based on their experiences.
What's "normal" for me may seem wild and crazy to someone else. Who cares as long as you don't hurt anyone!
I just don't label myself. I try not to label others. I may describe them, but not in labels, which are very unfair. They never fit right anyway. Adjectives are better descriptors. I find most people fascinating. All kinds of people. To borrow from the late great writer and social activist June Callwood, I try to follow a "philosophy of kindness" – tends to go a long way with most people.
As for mad! Some people probably think I am. So what. That's their problem, if it's a problem.
I'm mad about my husband. He's had the most profound healing effect on me of all. More than medication, therapy, everything. Since we met almost nine years ago – we celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary exactly one month from today – he's my best "medicine."
I have no time for labels. I rail against them and try not to use them.
If I could, I'd destroy the DSM which only serves psychiatrists and psychologists so they can bill for their services and talk to each other. It's ghibberish!
Read Harvard Psychologist and Women's Studies professor Paula J. Caplan's book, "And They Say You're Crazy." Visit her website http://www.psychdiagnosis.net. The DSM is a dangerous book. It's late and it's been a long day, Gianna.
I'll see you at your blog at http://bipolarblast.wordpress.com/ and I love the tagline about shedding that label. Your new name – Beyond Meds – is great and that glorious forest scene is so peaceful and hopeful.
Thanks for calling. Speak soon!

[Gianna]

Hi..thanks for the thoughtful remarks...it was late when you wrote that and now it's early, (for me) simply because I just woke up, so I will just say I will follow the Caplan links and be back later...

be well...

[Dominique]

On the subject of who we are: identity and self-image are, indeed, everything.
I found that for the first five or six years of my diagnosis, it did tend to define me. This added to my depression.
Once I remembered who *else* I was besides "crazy" (talented, quick-witted, intelligent, well-educated, fiery), this helped me feel much better.
It's still a struggle at times to put the diagnosis in proper perspective (something that affects me at some times more than others, not every single minute of every single day). As an example, just in the past three days I was very distressed. Today, I feel better. What do I want to focus on?

[Sandy Naiman]

Hi Dominique,
So happy to hear you're feeling better. Feelings are like rivers, constantly moving and changing. I hope the waters stand still for a while.
As to focus... the big question!
Try to focus on the present. The NOW! Stay in the present.
My late father, a WWII navigator and bombardier for the RAF, once gave me some very sage advice.
"You can't change the past, so leave it alone. And you can't control the future. But, if you stay in the present, the future will take care of itself."
We are always different people. Every day. Every minute of every day. It's not easy to stay in the present without reflecting on the past even if the past is a minute earlier. It's not easy not to worry about the future, the present or the past. Not to worry. Period.
To "stay in the present" sounds simple, but it's not. My father was really good at it. I tend to dwell.
Try to be who you are right now! Do you know what? The paradox is that once you start thinking about it, you're instantly in the past.
Focus on what you're doing. As much as you can! Find things you love to do and focus on those.
That's what I try to do and it's really hard sometimes. Easier at other times.
"Staying in the present," I believe, is a lifelong pursuit and practice helps. Like playing the piano!
Thanks for your thoughtful comments.
I hope this helps.
Have a lovely day!

[Sonia]

Hello Sandy,
I offer another perspective on labels. In my family, there were four daughters, and while we were not exactly angels, we each had a personality that differed from all others in the extended family. From early childhood, I was "the other" daughter, the "not you" daughter, and the "you know who you are" daughter. It was hard to live with people who would not use my name when addressing me, often because they couldn't or wouldn't remember it.
So years later, when I heard of a "survivors of incest support group" I felt a sense of ownership like I had not experienced before. I also felt a sense of kinship, of belonging, of knowing why I was in this group. This was in contrast to not knowing why I was with my parents and siblings.
For me, the label of "survivor" liberated me from the frozen spot in my heart. It provided me with a starting point, and offered me a path in life that had escaped my notice until then.
To "survive" something such as childhood abuse meant that childhood was over, in a real sense just as the abuse could be stopped. Once this became real, I could begin to explore other aspects of my personality; I could stop protecting everything within me, and stop being defensive about everything.
While labels are usually harmful to the one being labeled, in my case, at the beginning, the label helped put an end to a harmed life, and helped begin living.
I had never hoped to live past my teens, and hadn't planned for a career, or old age. More than 20 years of day to day living, enjoying the sunrise and watching the sunset, has kept me in the moment.

[Sandy Naiman]

Sonia,
How unthinkable that you were never addressed by your given name. Worse still, you were practically erased psychologically by what your family called you. One's given name, after all, is one's primary "label." One's very first identity.
Although your childhood was lost, finding and feeling "at home" in a "survivors of incest support group," being "liberated" by the label "survivor," and working hard to recover your sense of self, was miraculous. You deserved a miracle. At the same time, you performed the miracle. You that it happen with lots of support, peer support.
Obviously, this group, this "new" family, offered you a fresh beginning after a treacherous childhood, and you've grown and thrived despite the cruelty and brutality of your earliest years.
Families can be toxic. Sometimes they don't even know it. Sometimes they can't help it. Their labels and behaviours towards one child can be their unconscious mantras. Sometimes, a family has to sacrifice one child to survive. Family dynamics are very complex. Very mythologized in our culture.
I'm just so happy to hear how healthy and well you sound today.
Thank you for sharing yet another perspective on labelling. You shed new light on this thorny issue.
Your perceptive comments always enrich our debate.

[Dominique]

The comments on this blog have made me think again. Today I had what feels like an insight.

In my different extremes, I'm everyone and anyone. We all, as humans, experience what I do - but bipolar disorder intensifies and magnifies emotions tenfold. The drugs dull the edges: but the edges never really go away.

I wonder if I want them to.

In a Mad Pride blog, I described my ambivalence at being proud of what is in fact an illness. And yes, it hurts. It wounds. It mars (to plagiarize Nazareth). By the same token, however, this condition of mine makes me uniquely, profoundly, dramatically human. I may frighten other people, and myself, with my tormented intensity. I cry out, cursing, as others never would. I burst into life, as others rarely do. Maybe there's a place for this in our world. I would like to believe it, so that all that I am, do and have done, and all I can still do, isn't wasted.

I'm unbearably sensitive. This makes it hard to withstand emotional assaults. Yet, this very sensitivity makes me understand completely the discomfort and the pain others can feel.

I know I've been ashamed of my condition. Who wouldn't be? But I can see how this could be like being ashamed of being very tall. Most very tall people must go through some difficulty. Some can turn it to their advantage, such as basketball players. Now there's a group that can need accommodation: abnormal shoes and clothes, custom mattresses, even custom frames and ceilings. But it's worth it. I want to believe my talents are, as well.

[Sandy Naiman]

Dominique,

You and I are similar in that we are both "exquisitely" sensitive. That's how I choose to see it. Sensitivity can work to your advantage. You may bruise a bit sometimes, but bruises heal.
I've done some wild and woolly things in my life when I've been high/manic. So what?
Do you hear people beating themselves up for years because they did outrageous things when they were drunk? 
Everyone does things in their lives they wish they could undo. Who's perfect?

Most people have short memories and are so caught up in their own lives, they don't give other people a second thought. 

And shame? That’s another word I don't like. It's part of a vicious "shame-blame" cycle that relentlessly clings to madness. It’s time to break that cycle for yourself.
No one is ashamed of having cancer, anymore. Yet years ago, it was shrouded in shame and called the "C" word. No one talked about it.

Sound familiar? Knowledge, information, education generates understanding and acceptance.
 Eventually.
Madness has been part of the human condition since the beginning of time. Misunderstood and mythologized. That's changing. As more people are coming out crazy! Talking. Smashing the stereotypes.
I like your analogy about being tall. You're absolutely right. The same goes for being short. I wish people were more compassionate towards all body types. What’s normal, anyway, when we’re all so different. Normal is another word I try to avoid. 
The point is to celebrate who you are. You do have talents. They exist. If you "want to believe" your talents are "worth it" then they will be. It's not seeing is believing, but believing is seeing! 
Explore your talents. Enjoy them. By its very nature, dealing with emotional issues sometimes can make us introspective. Mindfulness is a good thing, though I've never relished staring at a raisin for 45 minutes! Listening to music, reading, writing, walking, picking wildflowers, socializing with friends, people watching. 
Beats raisin-watching any day, as far as I'm concerned.

As the old saying goes, "Do your own thing!" Whatever makes you feel good. As long as it's healthy.
Have a lovely Saturday.

[Tara]

Sandy,
Your blog is lovely, and I read it often.

This particular post has particular relevance for me and my present life circumstances.

It is so sad that a diagnosis and its politics has control over so many aspects of a person's life, whether or not they want it to... and no matter how hard they try to fight it.

Anyways, reading this post has given me a breath of hope.