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CW : Mental illness, medication, and suicidal ideation

Dear Reader,

Over the years I have been diagnosed with different things, sometimes for my brain and sometimes for my body. Names for patterns I could feel but didn’t yet know how to describe.

At times these diagnoses have given me access to new forms of care, new doors opening, and other times they have felt incredibly stigmatized, heavy with implication, and I have had to wade through the muck of what I might be up against.

I remember when my psychiatrist said I had ADHD and I asked her if we could skip that one because “all the girlies have it” and I don’t want it too. She politely declined and said I could not indeed skip that one. A diagnosis is not a trend, she reminded me—kindly, firmly.

When I was diagnosed with Bipolar I remember feeling simultaneously deep relief and also so scared of what everyone would think of me. Like depression and anxiety are one thing but Bipolar? That felt like crossing some invisible line. That one is for truly crazy people.

I’ve been on a medication rollercoaster for years, almost finding the right ones but then needing a tweak here and there. Supplements that work for a few months and then lose their magic touch. Meds that feel good at one dose but then the next dose up creates a suicidal ideation spiral that the emergency meds can hardly touch. A constant negotiation with my own chemistry.

This year has been one of the hardest years for my mental health, a year where survival felt like the work, until a recent set of lab work provided a new diagnosis which just may set me free.