Still the odd one out

I’ve just finished reading the latest Mind magazine. For those of you who think that sounds like some sort of trendy philosophical coffee table adornment, Mind is actually a mental health charity. I was struck by one particular paragraph, written by a journalist asked whether he thought the media coverage of mental health had become more positive – he pointed out that “There are still some mental health conditions, such as schizophrenia or personality disorders, that are rarely covered and continue to attract suspicion, misunderstanding and prejudice”. Well, no arguments there. I’m fully aware that my diagnosis is the one thing I’ve kept pretty much under wraps; most other things are up for grabs about me; I wax lyrical about my mum’s death, my parent’s divorce and my past anorexia, but I still tend to choke on the words ‘personality disorder’. There’s nothing wrong with my personality for God’s sake, people Like me! I’m great at making friends, I’m witty (ahem), I’m not really socially awkward, and I like a drink, or twelve. Couldn’t we just come up with a new name for the bloody thing? So, recently I decided to run with it. Someone’s got to, and I see no Z list celebrities proudly flying the flag. I HAVE A PERSONALITY DISORDER. There, I said it. Luckily, I actually quite enjoy being different, and as my particular disorder is one of the lesser known variety (‘multi-impulsive’ if you must know). I’m like one of those lumps of stuff sperm whales make inside their bodies to stop squid beaks penetrating their guts? Or perhaps something a little more sexy different. Who knows.


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