I wasn’t diagnosed with anything “scary” to other people until I was in my mid-20’s. They accepted the PTSD because it made sense with what I had been through. They accepted the Generalized Anxiety Disorder because they had seen me go through the attacks. They even accepted the incorrect diagnosis of “clinically depressed” because they knew that I had times of dealing with extreme depression.
But when labels of “bipolar” and “schizo-affective” were added to the list, people who had known me all their life began to see me and treat me differently. It breaks my heart. It feels like a deep cut to me that doesn’t heal. The relationships with family and friends are gone now. And the only thing that changed was a label.
They had been through the changes of moods, paranoid thoughts, fears, hallucinations, uncomfortable times, and seeing the highs and lows of it all. They…
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