Sometimes I feel that, as a person with a mental illness, I’m part of the last group that it’s OK to discriminate against.
I recently started a new job at a tremendous company. Even so, I’m being less open about my mental illness then I was at other jobs. A lot less open. I haven’t said a thing about it to anyone.
Surely the managers, including the one who hired me, know about my bipolar disorder. My books and links to my newsletter are on my resume and LinkedIn page, and since I started one of the managers has bought and is reading my books. But by law my disability has never been mentioned. The topic of mental health, let alone mental illness, has not come up with any of the people I work with.
I’m OK with that. No discrimination here.
In the past I’ve been very open about my bipolar disorder at work and I think it cost me. I crusade against stigma and clamor for the acceptance of people with mental illness, but I’m less and less convinced that on the job is the place to wage this battle. In the past it was like I was throwing it in everyone’s face and demanding inclusion and recognition despite all the other facets of my personality, let alone my work ethic and my experience. This time I’m going to go with who I am in full in my relationships with coworkers. Even after the difficult period I’ve experienced this year mental illness remains just a part of who I am. And sometimes, especially at work, a very small part.
Yes, there’s strength in being part of a group, and the community of people with mental illness has been both an inspiration and a refuge for me. But when I’m judged and recognized, I want to be judged and recognized as an individual, not as a member of a group.
As part of the onboarding process at my new job I had to take a computer module on Diversity, Equity and Inclusion (DEI). I’ve listened to people argue about DEI and its value or cost for years, but I never encountered up close anything about it. In a nutshell, the course said people like to be with people like themselves, and the group with the most power, white men, therefore like to hire and promote other white men. Perhaps a business may be better served if they took a look outside of their affinity group at people with other backgrounds and experience for jobs and promotions. I thought, no duh. I didn’t see where the big controversy was. I found the reasoning in the course way oversimplified and off target, but it seemed harmless and tacitly obvious.
But as a member of a group that has long been discriminated against the course on DEI confused me.
The whole thing was about race, gender identity and sexual preference. Inclusion actually seemed quite exclusive. Nothing about disabilities or age or religion or ethnicity. As I ended the course and closed the browser I felt like Clarence Thomas when he said he didn’t even know what diversity means. At once, it seemed infinitely broad and restrictively limited. So I looked around at the people I work with when we had a company meeting where once again diversity was brought up. We’re almost all white. There are a couple African Americans and two South Asians and a roomful of white people. But we’re still an incredibly diverse bunch. We come from all over and range from just out of high school to post retirement. Life experience makes us all unique, and I thought with all of its experience this group was exceptionally unique. And diverse. And that’s what diversity is about, isn’t it?
Which brings me back to what many would say qualifies me as a person of diversity able to demand equity and inclusion. A person with a severe disability that has limited his career progression. A person with fewer options than those some proponents of DEI seek to displace.
I reject that. If I speak too loudly at work about being a member of a discriminated against group, those with mental illness, especially when I’m working at a company with no signs of discrimination against any group, I’m speaking for people I don’t know with qualifications and motivations I can’t vouch for. And if I identify strongly with this group, those with mental illness, my success or failure reflects on a lot of people I’ll never meet. Yet my experience may limit their opportunities just as much as I may positively blaze a path for others with bipolar disorder.
I don’t want the responsibility. I want to tell my story here in this newsletter and do my job, judged strictly on my merit, at work. I’ll succeed or fail based entirely on the work I do. I think members of any group who feel this way find opportunity and success rather than attribute their outcomes to the result of belonging to some group others may call either advantaged or disadvantaged.
I have certainly been discriminated against due to my mental illness, and those who discriminated against me didn’t even bat an eye. It was kind of normal to marginalize the crazy guy. Those experiences have not led me to give anything less than my best effort. And now, working for the company I do and having a very positive experience has proven those efforts paid off. For me. As an individual. An individual who refuses to use membership in a group that faces unique challenges as a platform for demands of special treatment or undeserved privileges. My bipolar disorder makes me unique, as does every experience I have had. Judge me for who I am. Not what I have or what group I belong to.
A lesson I have learned that has led to my recovery and success is to use the language, “I have a mental Illness” rather than “I am mentally ill.” This is a game changer and you can read about it in my books Practicing Mental Illness: Meditation, Movement and Meaningful Work to Manage Challenging Moods and Handling Anxiety in a Time of Crisis. Get a copy of one or both for yourself or give them as gifts this holiday season.
I know it's a matter of activism for you to tell co-workers that you have a mental illness. I do think that just your natural personality speaks for itself, and if the topic of mental illness arises organically, and only then do you share that you have an illness, you will have already shown how capable and worthy you are at your job, and as a friend.
From my limited experience of having worked with you in your previous job, all I saw was your helpfulness, sincerity, and cuteness. :) Nothing else was apparent to me- for what it's worth. I am too busy worrying that my often-debilitating anxiety will show through to my co-workers, that I don't have the energy left over to analyze others too much!