Sometimes when we start a journey, a bend in the road can give you a totally different view of the scenery.

It was a Thursday evening a few weeks ago, when I found myself sitting across from a specialized psychologist.  She was a PhD with an aptitude for diagnosing a wide array of conditions.  I had spent an entire Saturday and a couple of hours at home weeks earlier completing interviews, questionnaires, and testing, trying to make sense of…me.  On this Thursday evening, before the scheduled appointment, a tornado passed about a mile from my house, toppling trees, and fences.  And as I was speaking with this woman, I realized that a different kind of tornado was about to tear through my identity.  It would tear off the labels placed on me many, many years ago, replacing them with new ones.  Prior to this, I realized that the label I had been using for years was probably wrong.  That label had been slapped on me during a particularly tumultuous period by the medical minds I engaged to sort out why I was a trainwreck and how to stop the trainwreck.  Hence, the need for the testing.

Almost 30 years ago, amidst the chaos that had become my life, I needed a label to help figure out what tools I needed in my toolbox – and what medications.  This label, bipolar disorder, dictated much of my actions and decision-making processes.  However, after 9 years of sobriety, much reflection on my life, history, and plenty of therapy, I started to realize that I had never technically experienced the mania-side of manic depression (bipolar disorder).  When I sat down recently with my doctor, who had been treating me for over 20 years for bipolar disorder, I pushed to be re-evaluated.

She broke out the DSM-V, the book of psychiatric illnesses that is the definitive source, filled with descriptions and checklists of symptoms.  I’ve never actually perused the book.  I’ve had people consult it regarding me on multiple occasions – several different versions because it gets updated.  As we were going through the checklist for mania, one thing became clear – I knew a lot of the buzz words.  However, I was applying them inaccurately.  By the end of the appointment, we realized I was probably not bipolar, despite having been treated for it for almost 30 years.  I felt heard, but now we needed to figure out what I have.

So, I did my interviews, questionnaires, and testing, and on that Thursday night, post-tornado, I got some answers.  I suffer from depression, recurrent at times.  I suffer from anxiety – no big surprise there.  Here comes the one that brought pause.  I am on the autism spectrum, although high functioning.  In addition, I was burned out.  I’m still trying to figure out what that last one entails and how to remedy it.  And I was not and had never been “bipolar” despite being treated for that specific ailment for years… and years.

My first reaction, I’ll be honest, was tears… of relief.  I felt like I had been wearing the wrong prescription lenses for years, and suddenly got handed new glasses which provided clarity.  Looking back over my history this explained so much.  The new diagnoses came with an 18-page report, the last few pages of which were filled with strategies for dealing with these new conditions.  I felt hope because the new tools could potentially be game changers for me.  

However, amidst the parting words of the clinician was a suggestion not to play “What-If”.  I assured her I was not looking backwards, only forward.  I meant it…. Until I didn’t about a week or so later.  “What-if” led places, especially to anger and resentment.  I ruminated on how my previous diagnosis had changed the course of my life.  I thought about all the times in my life I had been cruelly made fun of or been the subject of some bully’s jokes at my expense.  I thought of the toll some of the medications had taken on my health.  All of that was just a smidgeon of my thoughts.   The tears that followed about a week later were a different sort of tears from the initial ones.  Quickly, it became evident “What-If” wasn’t particularly productive or hopeful.  But how was I to get out of this despondent period?  

I had several friends point out that acceptance was going to be key.  I’ve been working on it, not perfectly though, it’s more like a practice which I must attempt over and over.  It’s becoming easier and easier as more time passes, and I have more cause to practice.

When I was younger, I used to hear women talk about “putting their face on”.  What they meant was that they needed to apply makeup, putting their picture-ready version of themselves together to go out and tackle the world another day.  I don’t wear a lot of makeup, however, I’ve spent years “putting my face on.”  I’ve been trying to conform my actions and behaviors to those of my peers, sometimes with success, sometimes with abysmal failure.  I’ve been praised for it, and I’ve been bullied for it.  I’ve found that this is, in my case, called masking.  Ever heard the expression, “Fake it till you make it.”?  I’m the queen of that.  If I am like everyone else, you’ll all like me, right?  You won’t notice that I’m a little different.  I’m just like you, right?  But the mimicking and struggling with trying to figure out how to conform constantly from a young age, has led to burnout.  It’s like being a square widget constantly trying to force yourself into round holes.  It hurts and it’s not effective in the end.

I do not know much about Autism at this early stage in my diagnosis, but more to come.  I started this blog to talk about hope and where I find it in my life.  My story just got a little more interesting.  I’m choosing to take the glass half full approach, and that glass is filled with HOPE.  Who knows where this change of direction is going to lead, but it’s going to be a new adventure.  I’m always up for that, as long as I keep growing personally and spiritually.

I’m not just a label, I’m so much more and I’ll continue this journey advocating for myself and hopefully others.  No one is ever just a label.  Human beings are inherently so much more than a brief descriptor which may or may not be accurate.