And if that’s too long for you, than fuck you, you’re the one who voted for the government who forced this label down my throat.

The post is here.

The language of mental health is something I hope to give some serious thought to one of these days. I myself have started to use “individuals,” “people,” “those,” etc., “with a mental health diagnosis” instead of the “mentally ill.” It’s not just that the latter is charged with thousand of years of stigma, but “mental illness” has always seemed to separate the brain from the rest of the body (althought “mental health” does the same, but I think to a lesser degree.) Certainly if speaking about a specific diagnosis, I’ll use the name, but try not to lump everyone together.

The words that prick my sensitivities most, however, are those of “consumer” and “caregiver,” although there are many individuals and organizations that don’t seem to mind using “consumer.” “Client” is my preferred word, though it’s far from perfect. There’s probably not language on which a consensus will be reached anytime soon. It’s a stickler. Then again, cancer use to be the “C-Word,” AIDS was only contracted by bleeps and bleeps, I still remember getting jerked away from “Colored Only” drinking fountains, and was raised in a society where the “N” word wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.

North Carolina just passed and sent a People First bill to the governor, the gist of which is: “The Legislative Services Office shall incorporate into its drafting training of legislative drafters the 8 preference to avoid language that implies a person as a whole is disabled, equates a person with his or her condition, or is regarded as derogatory or demeaning.” The Arc of NC was a principal supporter. I’m sure it’s a fine organization and has been “The Arc” now instead of “ARC” for 15 years. But it seems that stepping far, far away from the derogatory genesis of its name would have better and made more of a statement. I’m sure they would argue that losing the name recognition would have hurt their advocacy efforts, but to me it would have made a statement that they were doing it for the right reasons.

Sorry for the novel. Sometimes I get going …

I really don’t care if people call me bipolar but as for myself, I say “I have a bipolar diagnosis” because I do not agree with that diagnosis. I also refer to my mentally ill friends (and myself) as “crazy” in a good-natured way, although once, a nurse in a mental hospital I was visiting said I’d come to see all the crazy people, and that was so NOT okay. I do not believe in calling these things “brain disorders” as they have not been proven to the extent of something like Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, or Hungtington’s diseases, the organic brain disorders.

The whole debate goes on and on without resolution. I’ve been a participant for 10 years (though only “bipolar” for 1 and a half), but next time, the preferred term is “wheelchair user”– and people don’t like to be called “sufferers” anymore.

Progressive systems evidence change through deeds and achievements; lesser one merely change the names.

p.s. I HAVE an Anxiety Disorder.

But I really do prefer language that gives a concrete description of my experiences over language that sounds rather jargony to me. I’d rather say I’m manic-depressive than bipolar, though I usually don’t; bipolar does roll off the tounge a bit faster. “Manic” alone is a different story: It always strikes me as similar to “schizophrenic,” used as shorthand for “abnormal.”

But maybe I’m too self-depricating about all this, leaving people with the (occasional) impression that I see myself through my own stigmas. Then again, manic-depression isn’t exactly a pleasant problem, so softening it too much makes it feel like I’m failing to say what I mean.

As for the deaf ear (which dates at least from early infancy, meaning I’ve had no experience with stereo hearing & no problem adapting to one good ear), at least the harder language lets me get away with the “what?” gag constantly.