Category: Personal

I originally wrote this as a comment to Britni’s post: Imposter Syndrome. Britni writes about knowing “something is wrong” but how the search for answers sometimes leads to doubting yourself.

I have a very good idea what Britni is talking about. Only thing is that I was actually diagnosed, after years of misdiagnoses, with bipolar disorder in my 20s. The battle of finding the right balance of meds was a rough one, but we finally got it ‘sorta right’ and my life was improving. I moved to Asia after turning 30, where a brain specialist in a state hospital found exactly the right balance of meds from the word go! The next 3.5 years were the most amazing years of my life up to that point! I began hoping that all the lifestyle changes I’d made since my diagnosis had paid off – and that maybe I was cured.

Then I went to the States to take up a job offer – that turned out to be a scam – where I was promised (amongst other things) that my medication would be taken care of. It wasn’t, and for 7 months I silently slipped back ‘into the wild’. My ‘benefactor’ was thoroughly convinced that he was a specialist in all things, and proclaimed that my prescription was nothing more than a placebo… and I wanted to believe it.

A psychiatric nurse who knew him came to visit (social call) once. She had her suspicions about the whole setup. She took me aside and offered one word of advice: Run!

I didn’t want to hear it though. I was thoroughly enthralled by my “friend”. Months later her advice rang in my head when I found out that I was to be taken to Mexico for a ‘visa run’. I fled back home to SA with the help of a couple of friends I made in that time. (Friends to whom I am eternally grateful, and whom I miss dearly.)

Back in SA, a new psychiatrist doubted my earlier diagnosis and suggested we wait to see what happened. I wanted to believe him, and to pin my symptoms on my American experience. But we were both mistaken.

Long story short: I had a major episode and was put back on medication. I’m not who I was in Taiwan – but life is better for the most part.

Mental illness is a weird thing. Half of the struggle is wanting to know that you’re not making it up – and half is trying to convince yourself that you did. It superimposes a layer of doubt on your life: Am I not just over exaggerating normal experiences? Am I simply a weakling hiding behind a label?

The truth (as far as I’m concerned) is that we’re not making things up. Our experiences are real and our realities are valid. (If that edges me towards radical constructivism, so be it *chuckles*)

If either my or Britni’s stories strike a chord with you, or with the experiences of someone you know, keep the faith! You are not alone – even when it feels like it. (And boy, can it ever feel like it!) Stick to it, stay true to yourself, and be truthful about yourself. Somewhere, someone has the instincts, knowledge and wherewithal to help figure it out.

So keep on keep’n on – we’ll make it yet!