The politics of personal empowerment

My mother and I have been talking a lot lately about bipolar disorder and how it affects me. I've explained to her that bipolar disorder has many faces, and that it presents itself differently from one person to the next, and often within the same person from one day to the next. For me, it's never been about random chemical changes that drastically alter my moods. Instead, it's manifested as emotional hypersensitivity to situations, relationships, music, art, just about anything. It's as if I sometimes lack the ability to regulate my emotional responses to the stimulus that's affecting me. If a commercial or movie would generally invoke a tear or two, I cry buckets. If a happy song would normally cause one to tap their foot, I'm inspired to dance. If an unethical act in the workplace would normally evoke a raised eyebrow, I am utterly incensed as if I'd been personally attacked.

As if having emotions on steroids wasn't enough, I also have a tendency to conceal these emotions from those around me whenever possible. Perhaps because I'm smart, and articulate, and politically astute, I know that certain emotions are inappropriate in certain settings at certain times. For this and other reasons, I do not think of myself as "mentally ill". Instead, I simply consider myself to be a person with bipolar tendencies who sometimes suffers from depression. I'd venture to say that those who know me would agree. In fact, if one were to ask any of the colleagues and friends who've known me for years if I were "bipolar", not a single one would believe that I was.

Now, part of this is due to the grossly distorted perceptions of bipolar disorder that have been disseminated by the media, and quite honestly, by some within the bipolar community who choose to focus exclusively on the most negative and extreme aspects of the disorder. I must admit though that I would be considered "highly functioning" on the bipolar spectrum, so I do not want to in any way minimize the tremendous pain of those who are suffering with this disorder to a much greater extent than I am.

While some consider the ability to function "normally" (whatever that means) a blessing, and it is, it can also be a curse. Partly because people who are highly functioning and exhibit few, if any visible symptoms are often undiagnosed or misdiagnosed and the seriousness of their suffering is rarely taken seriously. Furthermore, while the outside world may not see my many intense emotions, they are still there, and when they can't be directed towards their source, they are directed inward.

I asked my mother if I'd always been hypersensitive. She didn't speak directly to me being overly sensitive as a child (probably because even then I kept it all inside), but she said that I've always been "empathetic" and thoughtful about other people's feelings. She said that when I was a very young child, she'd take me out shopping and without fail, whenever there was a baby in a stroller that "only a mother could love" (her words, not mine), I'd go up to the stroller, peer in and say quite sincerely, and quite loudly, "Look Mommy! Isn't that the prettiest baby you've ever seen?" Being the polite and tactful mother that she is, she said that she'd always take a deep breath, put on a smile and say "Yes, sweetie, that is a beautiful baby." Then she'd drag me away, before I could put her on the spot even more, muttering who knows what under her breath.

Over the years, I think I've expanded on that theme and developed the tendency to put an inordinante amount of care into protecting other people's feelings, often at the expense of my own. However, since being diagnosed with bipolar disorder earlier this year and working hard to identify and significantly reduce the triggers that cause me difficulty, I've realized that this overabundance of empathy, at the expense of my own emotional well-being, has not been healthy for me. I've finally realized that I'm the only person that can ultimately be responsible for my own spirit.

I know that I am good, kind, generous and honest. But I also know that often times people mistake those qualities for weakness... and weak I am not, although I probably act like it at times. Over the past three months I've decided that I'm sick and tired of being taken for granted, being emotionally mistreated or neglected, and all around settling for less respect and decency than I deserve. I've posted previously about both a professional situation with a co-worker at work and more recently about the end of a personal relationshp and how I decided it was time to stand up for myself for a change. In both circumstances, I was pleasantly surprised at the results.

I learned that setting boundaries, being clear about the behavior I will and will not accept, and drawing a line in the sand, as much for my own benefit as for the other person's, do not signal the approach of the Apocalypse. They are inherently necessary, in fact critical, to my emotional well-being. The key now is remembering that rather than waiting until the situation is so bad that I feel I've got nothing else to lose, it's important for me to set those boundaries up front, drawing that line in the sand, so that the unacceptable behavior that I will no longer tolerate doesn't have a chance to rear it's ugly head.