People First Language
One of the biggest challenges I’ve had in the 10 years I’ve been writing on the subject of mental illness is the evolving use of language around disabilities. Sometimes I’ve been relieved by change; other times I’ve been frustrated. I recently had the opportunity to start thinking about this again because I accidentally let a writer use the phrase “wheelchair-bound” in an article I edited. Afterward, the subject of the article objected, and I felt terrible. I wasn’t hip to that particular change, but in the future I won’t use it again.
Often, the lack of a consensus stymies writers and members of the media. In my case, I’m sort of okay if you call me “bipolar,” but there are many other people who think that’s terrible — and that you should only say “person with bipolar disorder” or “person who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.” As a writer concerned with rhythm and clarity, I have to object to the latter for myself. Yes, I’ve been diagnosed that way, but given that I concur with the diagnosis, I’m comfortable saying “I have bipolar disorder.” A lot of people object to “a person who suffers from bipolar disorder,” but I remember just a couple years ago when that was absolutely the most appropriate language.
One thing I feel we’ve mostly agreed upon: To call a person schizophrenic is really out of date. As in: “I think he’s schizophrenic.” In clinical contexts that emphasize recovery, people definitely say, “I think he has schizophrenia,” if not something more progressive, like the examples above. There’s something historically uncomfortable about the word “schizophrenic” that hasn’t yet accrued to “bipolar,” if only because the illness (oops) only recently shifted from “manic-depression.”
And now to that oops — some people no longer like to say “mental illness.” Some prefer “brain disorders” but others like to go in the opposite direction and say, well, I’m not even sure anymore. Because I subscribe to some of the horrors that many people rail against (like that my symptoms are part of an illness; that medication can work; that not all of the DSM-IV isn’t balderdash), my language may, at times, be less People First-ian than that of others.
For example, I wear two hearing aids and have been, for some years … hearing-impaired? Suffering from hearing loss … ? Partially deaf .. ? (I am not, however, Deaf. That I know for sure.) My friend and I talk about this sometimes because she is partially deaf (with much more impairment than I have) and has been so since childhood. But even she doesn’t know what the hell to call it. If she meets someone who’s like a bit more deaf than she is (but not Deaf), she doesn’t know what to say to contextualize herself. It’s so weird.
Maybe because I was a translation scholar, I love this kind of discussion. I’d be interested to hear (but talk loud! Heh.) what you all think of People First language, in all its permutations.
[Button (that I should really get for public situations) available here.]
liz | 2:55 PM | DISABILITY, SCHIZOPHRENIA, bipolar disorder, stigma
“Tweenorexia”
How the media delights in coining new terms — the latest being “tweenorexia.” You can imagine them sitting around in a meeting getting all hopped up on coffee and donuts, and patting each other on the back for thinking of it. Ooh, nice one. Perhaps I’ve been in journalism too long.
The trend, as represented by a recent study, is troubling, though. And what’s truly sad is that even the most well-adjusted teens and women I know would see this video and think, in a tiny, horrible corner of their brain: “God, I wish I could get that thin–just for a while.” Sigh.
liz | 11:31 AM | children
As I’m a Nostalgia Whore, I Love This Piece
BBC News Magazine asked a 13-year-old to give up his beloved iPod and use a Walkman for a week instead, in honor of the Walkman’s 30-year anniversary. Since that was my first portable music player, purchased in 1983 and lovingly cradled across continents, I smiled as I read this.
My dad had told me it was the iPod of its day.
He had told me it was big, but I hadn’t realised he meant THAT big. It was the size of a small book. When I saw it for the first time, its colour also struck me. Nowadays gadgets come in a rainbow of colours but this was only one shade – a bland grey.
So it’s not exactly the most aesthetically pleasing choice of music player. If I was browsing in a shop maybe I would have chosen something else.
From a practical point of view, the Walkman is rather cumbersome, and it is certainly not pocket-sized, unless you have large pockets. It comes with a handy belt clip screwed on to the back, yet the weight of the unit is enough to haul down a low-slung pair of combats.
When I wore it walking down the street or going into shops, I got strange looks, a mixture of surprise and curiosity, that made me a little embarrassed.
As I boarded the school bus, where I live in Aberdeenshire, I was greeted with laughter. One boy said: “No-one uses them any more.” Another said: “Groovy.” Yet another one quipped: “That would be hard to lose.”
My friends couldn’t imagine their parents using this monstrous box, but there was interest in what the thing was and how it worked. In some classes in school they let me listen to music and one teacher recognised it and got nostalgic.
It took me three days to figure out that there was another side to the tape. That was not the only naive mistake that I made; I mistook the metal/normal switch on the Walkman for a genre-specific equaliser, but later I discovered that it was in fact used to switch between two different types of cassette.
Another notable feature that the iPod has and the Walkman doesn’t is “shuffle”, where the player selects random tracks to play. Its a function that, on the face of it, the Walkman lacks. But I managed to create an impromptu shuffle feature simply by holding down “rewind” and releasing it randomly – effective, if a little laboured.
I told my dad about my clever idea. His words of warning brought home the difference between the portable music players of today, which don’t have moving parts, and the mechanical playback of old. In his words, “Walkmans eat tapes”. So my clumsy clicking could have ended up ruining my favourite tape, leaving me music-less for the rest of the day.
For more of Scott’s experience, go here.
liz | 5:07 PM | random
Zoloft Made Me Do It: Try to Kill Myself and Murder My Girlfriend
Despite the glib title of this ongoing TTWS feature (Blank Made Me Do It), there are some cases that are quite serious and upsetting. The one of Randall Robbins II is that kind of case, if only because it brings up–for the umpteenth time–this issue of those black-box warnings on antidepressants. From the L.A. Times:
Randall Robbins II, who pleaded guilty to second-degree murder in the 2002 strangulation of 17-year-old Brittany Eurek, argues that both Pfizer and his doctor should have known that Zoloft might have made him attempt suicide and commit murder.He says the drug intensified his agitation, suicidal desires, hysterical behavior and hostility and diminished his self-control.
Those arguments are similar to claims made in a few other cases since 2004, when antidepressants gained new warning labels highlighting the risk of suicidal behavior in people under 18.
In 2007, the South Carolina Supreme Court upheld the conviction of Christopher Pittman, who is serving a 30-year sentence for killing his grandparents when he was 12. The court rejected his argument that he was involuntarily intoxicated by taking Zoloft and didn’t know what he was doing when he killed his grandparents and burned down their home in 2001.
A year earlier, the North Dakota Supreme Court affirmed the conviction of a man who killed a 19-year-old woman with a shotgun and later tried to blame the 2003 slaying on the antidepressant drug. Zachary Schmidkunz is serving a 35-year prison term.
What puzzles, somewhat, is the conflicting behavior of Pfizer, though their continuing legal victories do justify it. On the one hand, there is the black-box warning, which specifically concedes that this kind of reaction to the drug is possible. On the other hand, there’s the response to a case like Robbins’:
“Pfizer’s evaluation of Zoloft data never has revealed any signal of an increased risk of violence related to either use or discontinuation of use of Zoloft,” [spokesman Chris] Loder said.
The FDA also says the underlying mental illnesses that antidepressants are used to treat are the most important causes of suicidal thoughts and actions.
So is that tantamount to Pfizer saying they don’t believe their own warning? Robbins, who’s in prison for the murder, is now suing Pfizer for $1 million and serving as his own lawyer. (Isn’t that always a bad idea?) Go here for more.
liz | 10:01 AM | BIG PHARMA, criminal justice system, violence
Michael Jackson and Zoloft
All right, let’s predict what’s coming next: the list of drugs MJ was allegedly taking will include some psych drugs (Zoloft, I’m hearing), which will cause the Hollywood Hubbardians to get their knickers in a twist. So let’s say what needs to be said before the bombs are launched: It’s not the drugs that are bad. It’s abusing drugs that’s bad.
Jackson, whose cause of death is still unknown, is rumored to have been taking a lotsa meds, all at once. From various sources via Furious Seasons:
“Life & Style reports that Michael Jackson was taking a cocktail of up to seven prescription drugs in the months before his death.
“And a Jackson family lawyer told CNN he ‘feared’ the drugs could kill the pop star.
“The star had been taking prescription painkillers including anti-anxiety drugs Xanax, Zoloft and painkiller Demerol in recent months, sources close to Jackson told Life & Style.
Poor Michael. If it’s true that he’d been taking this cocktail, and it was diagnosed by his doctor, we’ll certainly be hearing more about it.
liz | 7:38 PM | celebrities
Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Steven Wells
It’s funny — sometimes celebrity deaths hit me really hard. It seems they’re often celebs who were important to me in my youth, so for instance when Lauren Bacall dies, I might have to take a few days off from work. But despite Hollywood’s two losses of yesterday, I feel almost nothing. This isn’t because I’m a callous person but because having a friend and colleague die the day before really puts a fine point on how absurd it is to be crushed by celebrity deaths. Or not absurd, exactly, but how different it is — how remote. Who were those people to me? As No Minister says, “Fuck Michael Jackson … Steven Wells is dead.” And oddly, on hitched.co.uk, in the off-topic forum section, one poster says they’re more unhappy about Wells than MJ/FF. Another writes:
I’ve had near enough double the number of texts and phone calls about Steven Wells than I have Michael Jackson. One from a school friend I haven’t spoken to in almost 10 years. She remembered me going on and on about how bloody sexy his writing was and that despite my general dislike of NME I’d buy it regardless and read no only read his stuff.
Always controversial, always passionate and incredibly funny.
The world will be a duller place without him.
Isn’t that the truth. Not only that, but I’d love to hear what Steven would have to say about the Michael Jackson stuff — and especially about the BBC comparing his death to Princess Di’s. The fact that I have no idea what he’d say — except that it would be incredibly funny — is exactly what made him so special.
liz | 10:18 AM | celebrities, philadelphia
Goodbye, Anti-Sacred and Profane Writing Machine
After a long battle with cancer, PW staff writer, Guardian columnist, punk-rock novelist, NME gadfly, gender-twisting rebel comedian and poet Steven Wells has gone on to other things. Well, not really. According to Steven, there’s no such thing as the afterlife, and if there is, I guarantee he’s really, really pissed off right now. I can just picture him at St. Peter’s Gates, saying, “Fuck me! This shit actually exists?”
We’ll all miss Steven so much, and I’ll say more about that later. For now, I’m wishing the best to all family and friends who are hurting. That’s what Steven really cared about in the end, though he was very passionately annoyed by knitting, as well.
Steven was often told he was anti-American. I loved his passion, and he cracked us the fuck up every day. This video was part of a series he did for PW called Steven Wells’ America, in which he took sacred cows and basically grilled them for dinner. Below, he reflects on the religiosity of an America that voted for Bush a second time (Steven was a staunch atheist). Toward the end he smiles a bit, so you know that he knows he’s being ridiculous. And that’s part of what was so cute about Steven — he’d rant, but then laugh at himself.
liz | 10:41 AM | BIG PHARMA, Funny or Offensive?, GLBT, Song of the Day, alternative treatments, anxiety, celebrities, children, cute fix, depression, hospitals / hospitalization, media, meds, military, philadelphia, phobias, politics, random, religion, suicide, violence
Let’s All Send Our Biggest, Hugest Hugs to Susan S.
The incomparable author of If You’re Going Through Hell Keep Going is feeling bad these days. Here’s something she posted yesterday:
I am just tired. Tired of feeling ill from my meds 24/7. Tired of being too sick to work. Tired of not having any money and applying for food stamps and subsidized housing.
Tired in the fact the one trip to the city I took since 07 cause I didn’t have the money to go= I get comped two tickets for “Next to Normal”, and it triggers every trigger I have in the universe. I haven’t been the same since i saw the play.
Other than underwear, I have not bought any new clothes since 07. I have not gone anywhere, unless you count Princeton and New Brunswick. I don’t.
Living in the burbs where it’s all families and young marrieds commuting into the city- it sucks, I should be in a city- any city somewhere. Not here. Please not here.
All I ever wanted from the time I graduated from college was to be a wife and mother. The ex said he wanted children, after we married I found out he didn’t. Hence the annullment. I would have never married him if he had told the truth.
All I have at this point of my life, are broken dreams. I don’t have any dreams now.
I spend my days popping pills to sleep 18 -20 hours a day so I can be as close to death as I can without actually being dead. I have a blog which got some awards but no one visits. All I know how to do is write. And I wonder if I can every really do that.
All I know, I just want to be somewhere else before my birthday. That’s it. I just don’t know how to get there.
The cat will be fine. AK or Peter will take care of her. I am not fine. I need a dream, or a dirt nap.
Now, team, this is your assignment: Go to Susan’s blog and leave her a comforting comment. We have all been where she is now, and it’s not a good place to be. And the idea that someone else could care for kitty Holly? Ridiculous. No one loves Holly or understands her like Susan.
My life would be so much less meaningful without Susan. She has supported me and encouraged me in dark times. She has been an admirer and friend. And yes, she’s a kick-ass writer. We love you, Susan!
liz | 10:35 AM | depression, suicide
Mental Illness and Migraines
This weekend I was asked by some people how mental illness fits into my life nowadays, and I had a realization that was both reassuring and depressing: migraines are a bigger factor in my everyday existence now than bipolar disorder is. I’m glad to be so recovered (despite not exercising and eating poorly — take that, health gurus!) but fuck! These migraines are miserable and constant and not responding to daily dosages of Topomax or Imitrex or Zomig. They have become like alien possessors. I hate them.
This guy knows my pain, and articulates it well: Go here to hear author Andrew Levy talk about said migraines on Radio Times. The book sounds fascinating.
liz | 3:55 PM | bipolar disorder
