THE KEYBOARD Whisperer

by David Carr

Whisper it from the rooftops! The perils of disclosure.

recently had the thrill of having an article published in The Herald.’ It drew on my lived experience of bipolar disorder and, inevitably, had something of the confessional to it. By putting my name on it, I was coming out to the world. I was comfortable with that.

But then, some words by Darren McGarvey gave me pause:

“We decant our traumas into a rowdy and unforgiving public square where, once disclosed, they cannot be un-disclosed.”

I have always chosen to be open about my bipolar disorder. Arguably - too open. I refuse to feel any shame about my illness, and feel almost a duty to destigmatise, to educate.

However - you do have to put your own safety first - and I haven’t always done that.

I was thinking about safe spaces while talking with a young, trans friend who is only now making baby steps to being out with her gender identity. I was greatly affected by her description - ‘It’s like coming home.’ Put like that - wow. But being trans in a sometimes unaccepting world requires careful navigation. There are some people who you can be safe with, and some you can not.

Being out about a trans identity is only a thin analogy for bipolar disorder. They are each their own thing. Bipolar disorder is something most of us would rather do without. It’s something we can choose to hide. We can generally pick and choose what spaces we feel safe to disclose in. Do we disclose to friends, colleagues, dates? Each one of these decisions is fraught. But we have a choice.

I sometimes regret my openness. I fear becoming Mr Bipolar, with my label on my forehead, over-sharing my illness with anyone who will listen - or with those who won’t. Even in our brave new world of mental health candour - I have become cautious.

Proclaim it all you will - few will understand what bipolar disorder means. At best you will be filed away as ‘another person with a mental health condition.’ But you will not advance the cause without further education - and you just might not have the bandwidth to constantly explain yourself.

A harsh lesson that life taught me is that it’s OK to be mentally ill - until you’re actually mentally ill. That is - people who may profess to care about mental illness in the abstract can still be somewhere between clueless and harmful when faced with the reality. This is especially true of bipolar disorder, which doesn’t fall into the ‘feeling a bit blue’ pattern that people are familiar with.

And the problem is writ large in the workplace. Even while employers increasingly profess that they value neurodiversity, there is still a gulf between intentions and reality. Well-intentioned diversity and inclusion policies can bring about a forced openness. Those with lived experience are often singled out to take on the additional emotional labour of educating their colleagues.

Disclosing can expose your vulnerabilities. Some people do stigmatise, do judge, do fail to understand. And even if they are doing no active harm,the negativity and lack of empathy can be wearing..

Being open about living with bipolar disorder, as I have done in my Herald article, and to a lesser extent am doing with this column - we’re all friends herecan be to define yourself. I never set out to be a mental health writer. I love writing and share my work as widely as I can. I shamelessly crave an audience and ‘the thrill of the by-line.’ But with my writing on bipolar disorder - I increasingly choose to limit my audience.

I don’t want everything I say or do to be seen through the bipolar lens. I assert my right to choose my moment.

Now don’t get me wrong. I do still think that openness is good. My name is attached to my Herald piece, and I am proud of that. I will do my best to explain what living with bipolar disorder means, because I am - largely - in a mental space where I feel I can contribute. To borrow from Malcolm X: ‘If not me then who? If not now, then when?’

However - I can also be fragile and not very good at self care. Disclosure can be a liberating act. But it needs to be at a time and place of our choosing. I now feel cautious about shouting it from the rooftops. I reserve the right to only whisper.