Although I don’t think that either of us has phrased it this way, it seems to me that James and I are committed to a compassionate, no bullshit approach to taking care of our mental health needs. So our dynamic contains truth, humor, and accountability.

James and I believe in the transformative power of a diagnosis. We think that it’s an essential step toward health. However, we are not deceived, nor do we want to deceive, that a diagnosis means that everything will be tra-la-la. Many, many times, the diagnosis or the reality of a mental health issue in our lives results in significant social ramifications.

I received my diagnosis at Sheppard Pratt Day Hospital in Towson, MD. Sheppard Pratt encouraged us to tell our families and to rely on social supports to support us through our mental health crisis.

Social supports are family, friends, neighbors, places of worship, support groups, or even hired people who help you. Social supports do a variety of emotional support or material support to assist you in recovery or with disabilities. I did an internet search for social supports this week and there’s great resources to help you consider social supports as part of your stability and healing. I’m not even making a specific reference because I found so many quality articles. That’s available to you for the research.

By the time I developed bipolar disorder, I had already experienced a prolonged depression. I had already lost friends. People can only take so much of a depressed person. I wore them out. I knew from these experiences that there’s not unlimited sympathy (or, at least, unlimited energy) for people with depression.

I come from a white, progressive, educated family. I thought that I had a reasonable chance of being accepted and supported by them. I don’t feel accepted and supported by my three older brothers. They don’t want to talk about it. I have a few very specific disabilities resulting from bipolar; they don’t want to discuss these at all. They talk amongst each other about their lives and their plans; I am almost always excluded from these. They clearly work from their own assumptions about my illness rather than learning how it works inside of me. And they just don’t care to know me. Dad and I were talking about my insomnia. If anyone knows me at all, you know that insomnia is one of my persistent bipolar problems. One of my brothers piped up, “How long has this been going on?” I said “eighteen years.”

All of my brothers value equality and inclusivity. But they don’t know me. At least they don’t know me on my own terms. Socially speaking, instead of feeling as if they care for me, I feel like I’m a second-class citizen in the family.

I’m the youngest of four, the only girl. James is in the middle of a very large family who migrated from the deep South to Philadelphia. Although James is the middle of the siblings, he is the Junior. Although he’s the middle of the siblings, his Mother made him responsible for his brothers and sisters. All this week I’ve been mulling over the differences between our families as if there’s some secret code to be deciphered. I can’t find it. James’ family simply handled it better.

When James told his brother Marvin, Marvin rebuffed him a little. He said, “You mean I can’t have a beer with my brother?” Then, when James approached him again, he was cool.

James’ biggest social upheaval post-diagnosis came from the necessity of relocating. When James sought drugs, he was very mobile. He covered a lot of territory. Upon sobriety, there was always something, or somebody, to remind him. So he switched cities.

I hate it when mental health presentations are too perky or they resolve things too easily. This issue with my family causes me significant pain. Although James has found profound new meaning in his relocation, the success of it doesn’t diminish his sacrifice or allow him to see his friends and family easily.

My general idea for these essays is to keep building theme upon theme. Central to the theme of this essay is personal strength. A close second is building social supports/ a new family. A third theme is coming to terms with the diagnosis and how we experience healing when integrating it into our lives.

If you are struggling with the implications of recovery, a new diagnosis, or sobriety in your life, you’ll find that the benefits of being healthy and being honest about who you are far outweigh problematic consequences. You are not alone. Your sacrifices are not invisible even when they seem to be. Be true and what you need will present itself.