Do I Have a Mental Illness?

Hi everyone. Several happenings today, including my reading today’s Friday Faithfuls post, made me think about the question whether I have a mental illness. Or should I say mental health condition? Is there even a difference?

People who know me, may be surprised at the fact that I even ask this question. I mean, of course! I spent nearly a decade in a psychiatric hospital. Then again, when I was first admitted, the psychiatrist deciding to admit me made it very clear that she wasn’t diagnosing me with a serious mental illness. I had a diagnosis of autism, of course, which though it is in the DSM and though here in the Netherlands it falls within the realm of psychiatry, isn’t technically speaking a mental illness. To be added to this diagnosis was adjustment disorder, which in short means an inability to cope with the stressors of daily life. Nowadays, people with this diagnosis alone don’t qualify for mental health services, let alone admission to a psychiatric hospital.

But once I was in the system, numerous mental health diagnoses which may fall under the realm of mental illness, were added. My first was impulse control disorder not otherwise specified, which I’m pretty sure was just a way of explaining away my meltdowns without admitting they were due to less than adequate care. I often wondered why they singled out impulse control as the only issue on which they gave me the vague “not otherwise specified” diagnosis. I guess it’s because, unlike my anxiety, depression, disordered eating, etc., my meltdowns did bother other people.

Then, several years later, came (complex) PTSD and dissociative identity disorder. These are mental illnesses, but they are caused by overwhelming circumstances, just like adjustment disorder.

Later came borderline and eventually dependent personality disorder. Finally, I was diagnosed with recurring depression in 2017.

All this to say, whether I have a mental illness or not, isn’t as straightforward as it may seem. I do know that my current care plan lists “mental health problems” as a general “diagnosis”. I honestly try not to care about the specifics of my diagnosis, but I’ve learned the hard way that the specifics can be used against me. For example, when I had the personality disorder diagnoses, I was kicked out of the psych hospital with almost no aftercare because of allegedly misusing care. I wish the higher-ups would look beyond the labels and at the individual.

Variation and Deviation: What Is Typical vs. What Is Desirable

For today’s Friday Faithfuls challenge we’re encouraged to write about what “normal” means to us. I am reminded of the opening phrase to one of the Project 2025 training videos. Mind you, I didn’t see the actual video, but listened to an episode of the podcast, The Ace Couple, walking the listener through it. The goal of the video was to educate Project 2025 supporters about the language leftists (and presumably anyone else not in agreement with their garbage) use and what we (yeah, I’m one of those pesky leftists!) supposedly mean.

The opening phrase was: “I’m just a normal American woman.” The speaker then went on to describe what she supposedly would be called by the Left. The exact wording, I can’t remember but it included “cisgendered” (her words, never mind that it’s “cisgender” without the “-ed” ending), “ethnoimperialist” (a term I’ve never heard of but then again I’m white and assume this is just a parody phrase to say she is too), probably “heterosexual” and “pronouns she/her”.

Now what’s “normal” about all this? Statistically speaking, being straight and cis (which means, for those not aware, that your gender assigned at birth aligns with your gender identity, so the opposite of trans) are indeed “normal”, in that the vast majority of the population falls within this category. White, globally speaking, definitely is not: the majority of the world’s population are BIPOC (Black/Brown, indigenous, or people of color).

I was also reminded of an open discussion I had several months ago with a temp worker who happens to be gay. We were discussing sexual and gender diversity and relating it to neurodiversity. The neurodiversity movement says that autism and other neuropsychiatric conditions are merely a variation of the norm, not a deviation from it. The difference is that variants are statistically less common but not less valuable, whereas deviants carry a connotation of “less than”. Autistic/neurodivergent people are different, not less in a similar way that people under the LGBTQ+ umbrella are different, not less.

Now I would like to say that no-one is “less” as a person. However, some human conditions, traits and behaviors are both abnormal and undesirable.

I do understand that what are considered “deviations” from the norm rather than mere variations, changes over time. Autism, commonly, is still seen as a disorder in need of a cure and there’s hardly any protection against discrimination based on it. Homosexuality, thankfully, not anymore. At least, not in the Netherlands. This doesn’t mean gays don’t face discrimination, but in that case, society sees that it’s the person being homophobic who’s in the wrong, not the gay person.

I am a strong supporter of both neurodivergent and LGBTQ+ rights, and a member of both communities, for clarity’s sake. Though I am white, I try to learn about race issues. I may not statistically speaking be “just a normal woman” and thank goodness in this era I’m not American. However, I am a human being and this means I deserve human rights.

I Fear…

I fear not. Not really. Snakes nor spiders, heights nor depths. I fear not. Not exactly. Darkness nor monsters, flying nor driving. I fear… oh, what do I fear? Aloneness and uncertainty, pain and discomfort. And yet, I know, these are inevitable.


This post was written for Friday Writings #120, for which the prompt is to write either a prose poem, tankaprose or haibun. I chose the prose poem. I am also sharing this post with Friday Faithfuls, for which the prompt this week is “fear”.

I Am (Not!) 154

Hi all. Today’s topic for Friday Faithfuls is IQ testing. This topic is very dear to my heart, as IQ tests have often been used and even more often misused to determine my entire life path.

When I was twelve, I had an IQ test administered to me. It was the verbal half of the Wechsler intelligence scale for children (the performance half can’t be administered to me because of my blindness). On this verbal IQ test, I got an overall score of 154. According to the educational psychologist writing the report, this is a sign of giftedness.

There were several problems with this assigned IQ score. For one thing, like I said, it’s just a verbal IQ score. The year prior, another ed psych had tried an intelligence test for visually impaired children which utilizes non-verbal components, but had given up on the test midway through because I got too frustrated. This ed psych had also administered the verbal half of the Wechsler scale, but her report doesn’t give an IQ number.

Another thing, which you might figure out from my previous paragraph, is the possibility of a retest effect, since I took the exact same test twice in a year. The ed psych that labeled me with an IQ of 154 did try to find out whether this had actually happened. He asked me whether I had been told when taking the test the last time which answers were correct and which weren’t. I had, in fact, with some, and besides, my father had given me extensive advice on how to answer some questions even more cleverly than I had done. However, I knew the purpose of this assessment: to get the green light for me to go into mainstream, high level secondary education rather than special ed for the blind. I wasn’t at the time really sure whether that’s what I wanted, but my parents did and I, being twelve, didn’t question their authority. So I said “no” and the ed psych concluded there was no retest effect.

I don’t doubt that I have an above-average verbal IQ. But 154, in my opinion, is probably too high. Besides, verbal intelligence is what you need to succeed in traditional schoolwork. What you need to succeed in life, is more related to performance IQ, if you ask me.

Even now though, nearly a quarter of a century later, the number 154 pops up here and there and everywhere with regards to me. Professionals keep assigning new dates to the original IQ score, calling it a total rather than verbal IQ, and making more nonsense out of these ever-intriguing three digits.

I have tried to talk to the behavior specialist about this. What I really want is to be re-evaluated. Not just with respect to (verbal) IQ, but with respect to other things too. She for now only agreed to write a note by the IQ score of 154 saying that it dates back 25 years.

You’d assume that, in intellectual disability services, it wouldn’t matter whether your IQ is 100 or 150, since it means no intellectual disability regardless. However, several of my current staff have admitted being wowed at my IQ score before they got to know me. I hate that the most, being reduced to being 154.

Getting Older, Being Happier?

Today’s prompt for Friday Faithfuls is aging. I used to think aging was scary. Even at the early age of four, I didn’t want my classmates to sing in a birthday song that I was growing up.

Then, a few years ago, I heard an episode of All in the Mind, an Australian psychology radio show (I listened to it as a podcast), about aging. In it, people were discussing the positive aspects of getting older and mentioned that, for people who got to age ninety or beyond, the happiest age they’d ever been in their entire life was 82. How they got to such an exact number, I don’t know, but I’ve since clung to that number. It helped that my assigned day activities staff at my old care home always said she was going to live to age 93. Since she is eleven years older than me, we had this inside joke about the two of us meeting up near the end of our lives when she was 93 and I was at my happiest ever, ie. 82.

There actually is, or so the people on the show said, some logic behind older people being happier than younger people. The reason is the fact that the amygdala, one of the parts of the brain responsible for registering fear, shrinks as we age.

Also, many people become more resilient as they experience more of life. Whether this is a biological, social or psychological thing or more likely a combination of all three, it does mean older people may be generally happier than those in their twenties and thirties, for example. Borderline personality disorder, also known as emotionally unstable personality disorder or emotion regulation disorder, of which I have some traits, tends to lessen as people get older as well. This lessening of symptoms usually starts in a sufferer’s early thirties. Indeed, though I cannot say I’m necessarily happier now that I’m nearly 37 than I was ten or twenty years ago, I am generally more emotionally stable.