It’s tempting to do: to see some well-known person behaving oddly, or badly, and trying to fit them into some psychiatric diagnosis. There are even published papers – I recall one in the British Journal of Psychiatry years ago discussing jazz musicians.
We seem now to look at rugby players.
Who all seem to have bipolar disorder.
I understand it. It’s a nice intellectual exercise – kind of detective work: not like a real-life police detective actually finding out facts, but sitting Holmes-like and declaiming on what one has seen. There’s also the appeal of possibly helping to de-stigmatise psychiatric illness – or even to “normalise” it (though surely “normalising” a serious illness is a bit of a funny idea…). It’d be nice to be able to point to some well-known and successful people with the illness you’ve just diagnosed a young person with, and perhaps give them some hope (justified or not is a different question).
The thing that occurs to me (in addition to the question of whether or not being a publicly-known figure makes it ok for all and sundry to speculate about your health, psychiatric or otherwise) is that it can be hard enough to be definitive about the diagnosis of the person sitting right in front of you, when you’ve asked the questions you want, and observed the person directly. To read second and third hand accounts of behaviour, and see footage of them in non-interview settings and so on, and try to extract a diagnosis from that, is a seriously fraught endeavour.
…
I’ve just deleted a paragraph that included a couple of names, because even saying overtly that it’s speculation and using them as examples of why we shouldn’t so speculate, it seems wrong to me. It would imbue the notion that these people have or had psychiatric illnesses with a semblance of authority, when in fact it is nothing more than somewhat idle speculation.
I’m not sure that it is all that good for psychiatry – or psychiatric patients – either. Well-known people are well-known.
Or at least we all think they are. We think we know about them. We have our own ideas about them – so when a shrink comes along and is seen to excuse some bad behaviour by saying it’s psychiatric illness, if it doesn’t gel with our conception of them, we see it as just that: an excuse. The reality and impact of psychiatric illness is potentially then downgraded. Perhaps thereby psychiatric illness is somewhat “normalised” … but I don’t think we want to “normalise it”.
It is not normal to be so depressed you stand in a corner not moving, eating or drinking – not eating because you believe your insides have rotted away. It is not normal to sleep only an hour at night (if you really can’t keep your eyes open) because you’re too busy being the new prophet of god and satan working to bring peace to the Middle-East by sending thought messages to Oprah Winfrey. It is not normal to be unable to leave the house for fear of crippling panic attacks that leave you drenched in sweat, with your heart pounding out of your chest, sure you’re about to have a heart attack, drop dead and go crazy. It is not normal to be unable to function because you spend 18 hours a day showering, and washing your hands, or to take 2 hours to get down the road because you have to keep doubling back to check you locked the door – even though you know absolutely that you are clean, or did lock the door, and that your thought and behaviour are irrational. It is not normal to believe that you have an implant in your brain by which the FBI are tracking you, because you said something negative about George Bush in a FaceBook status update.
I don’t see that this sort of thing addresses the stigma – or more properly the discrimination suffered by people with psychiatric illnesses. The stigma is real: some illnesses (thinking particularly psychotic illness) do mark a person as different. The treatments can do that pretty well too: blunted affect, worsened negative symptoms, movement disorders – these are all stigmata of psychiatric illness. Anecdotes about people living well with psychiatric illness don’t change the stigma. The discrimination is related but different. We discriminate against those who are different from us – hence the importance of the stigmata.
But really, I don’t see that saying this or that famous person has this or that psychiatric illness has much of a show of reducing discrimination against people with psychiatric illness in general. What? Are we all going to think when we see someone obviously psychotic “oh, that famous rugby player was diagnosed with bipolar disorder; I won’t discriminate against this person”? Like so much elsegood and important in life, I think it comes down to empathy. We don’t want to normalise psychiatric illness, we want to encourage an empathic response. Some education about what happens in psychiatric illness is needed, and trying to help people to think “how would I be feeling if that were happening to me? How would I hope people would react to me?”
… Instead of “omg lock up the crazy person!” – which I see far too often.
postscript, as though it needs saying: the above descriptions are not of any actual people’s symptoms. They’re more like archetypes off the top of my head, if you like