In the years since I was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 2009, there have been many times I haven’t fought for myself. I haven’t fought to get disability…a HUGE mistake. I didn’t fight because I was ashamed, or I felt I didn’t deserve it because my family had its most basic needs met at the moment, or because I convinced myself I might be able to work again, maybe, someday. I didn’t fight to keep therapy when my health network dropped and eventually canceled my visits.
Well, that’s all over now. Now I have to learn to fight. Because it’s not for me; it’s for someone I love. And when you’re fighting for someone else, you don’t get tripped up by shame or guilt or thinking you shouldn’t bother people. I have to learn to search, and ask, and ask again, and find ways through the gatekeeping so many services have surrounding them. And it’s really hard, because I’m socially awkward and dealing with my own symptoms and executive function issues. But I have to do it.
I tell myself it’s not so different from writing…I’m trying to tell the truth. It’s just very specific truths to very specific people who need to be encouraged to respond in a specific way. And the stakes are way, way higher.
Lori Lynne Armstrong 