Using Stigma as a “Get Out of Jail, Free” Card

Stigma against mental health conditions can be tough to bear, especially when those close to us use common stigmas to explain away our legitimate emotions (like anger) and our justifiable reactions and decisions.

Anger, Trust, & Stigma

I am angry about something. Well, imagine that!

As a person with bipolar, it’s crucial for me to discern the difference between being angry about a specific issue or event, and experiencing the deep, red rage that can happen with my mental illness.

Because I take a great deal of responsibility for my disorder and behavior, I have learned how to assess my feelings, take into account what’s happening, and—in most circumstances—either speak my rational mind about what is angering me or retreat to care for myself if truly ill. I am capable and smart; I know fairly well how to do this.

What’s too bad is that others don’t seem to believe it.

There is the well-known stigma (and I suppose there is some reason for it) that those of us with bipolar are easily angered and that we just can’t control ourselves. That we’re irritable. That we fly off the handle over little stuff. And that sometimes our irritability becomes rage.

Okay, so I get that.

I also get that after years of living with or loving someone with bipolar, history gets made—as do assumptions about that person’s anger patterns: “Well, she threw the peanut butter jar across the room five years ago because I took my shoes off wrong, so she’ll always do that.”

Not fair, but I have a reasoned compassion for it.

Mostly.

Using Bipolar Stigma as a “Get Out of Jail, Free” Card

I write “mostly” because I begin to lose compassion for folks when I see stigma go beyond possible historic reasons, to using it as an excuse to treat me badly. I call it the “‘Get Out of Jail, Free’ Card.”

The American idiom “get out of jail, free” comes from the board game Monopoly, and it’s the notion that one can buy or wiggle oneself out of trouble without repercussions. In general, it means being above reproach, never having to say you’re sorry, and not having to take responsibility for your actions.

In terms of dealing with mental illness, sadly, I experience some of my loved ones doing this with me when I get legitimately angry or feel hurt about something.

For example, recently, I brought up to a loved one three specific things I felt mildly hurt about. I worked hard in advance to determine what exactly it was that bothered me, as well as what I needed in order to resolve it. I also asked what I could do for the other person.

The result? I was told that I was making too big a deal, that I am oversensitive, and that it was my “bipolar” talking.

Huh. Again, imagine that.

In the past, I’ve asked loved ones to reciprocate in connecting on a regular basis, perhaps remembering milestones, or about visiting, only to be told I am too demanding or not tuned in to what’s going on in their lives. Then, when I back off, I must “be depressed,” “isolating,” or incapable of maintaining a healthy relationship.

Bipolar, Righteous Anger, & Responsibility

Well, I’m not hypomanic, not enraged, not depressed. But I am angry, and I am done with this little stigmatizing game. It isn’t fair; it isn’t right.

I, and you, dear reader, and countless others with mental illness, try hard every single day to take responsibility for our disorders, behaviors, and actions—and for how we treat others.

Those who love us, and wish to be in our lives, will do right to do the same.