A Lament

Why, Oh Lord?  Why?

When one's life is already mostly lived a diagnosis of mental illness is not welcome, but at the same time, not so overwhelming. 

But for one whose life is still yet to come such a diagnosis is a burden that will be carried so long.  Why, Oh Lord?

Yet, there is also hope that rather than muddling through life without the help available, such a young person, armed with a diagnosis and empowered with a proper treatment plan will be able to reclaim the potential of their life.  The chemical malfunctions of psychiatric disorders can be addressed, and alleviated.  And yet, such a diagnosis early in life carries with it the burden of a lifetime adjustment, not to mention the expense of a lifetime on medications. 

The tragedy of such an early diagnosis is that at a stage in life when identity is being formed, a diagnosis will take center stage.  Bipolar, OCD, Schizophrenic, paranoid, depressed, whatever-- these are not the pillars around which one wants to establish their identity.  It's different when one has already established that identity and is firmly grounded.  Such a diagnosis later in life is difficult, but it is easier to maintain an identity independent of the disease.  When one is young and just coming to terms with the 'who' of who they are, such a label carries a louder voice.

It presents other challenges.  That quest to find a lifetime partner just became even more challenging.  "Hi, I'm Jane, an Aquarius, I love the beach, and dogs, and have a passion for music and dance.  I'm also a paranoid schizophrenic.  Would you like to hang out and have a cup of coffee?"  In selecting a mate, some will not have a problem with one who is mentally ill.  But if we are honest, many will have a problem with that.  It's like drug addiction.  Many marriages have survived chemical dependency and the subsequent treatment but, given the choice, would you prefer to be with one who will face those challenges or one who is healthy? 

Back to the matter of identity.  Establishing an identity, one's personhood, is such an integral part of adolescence and young adulthood..  Now there is the disease that is part of that.  But there is more.  Medication and its affects.  Is the person I am today really me?  To what extent are my experiences now attributed to a medication as opposed to my true self? 

Is a thought I have my own?  Or is it a symptom of a disease?  Or is it skewed by medication?  Have the medications resulted in my now reconnecting with my true being?  Or have they created an alternative reality with which I now must live?  Who am I?  Can I even claim my own thoughts?

Thief!  Demon!  Who gave you the right to take up residence in my soul?  Was it God?  Or heredity?  Or simply being the wrong place at the wrong time?  What opportunity did you seize Satan?  Be gone.  And whatever happened to the exorcists that we desperately need in the face of these demons?

And vocation.  Choices are now limited.  OCD in small doses makes for good doctors and nurses.  But when the paralysis rooted in fear prevents one from acting, not so much. 

Life goes on.  There is a lot of life left to live.  And with diligence, treatment can be successful.  Opportunities may open up again.  It is not over.  Don't punctuate the end of the sentence just yet.  Let the diagnosis be at best, a comma.  Not a period.

Why are they doing this to me, Oh God.  Why are you allowing this to happen?  Do you even exist?

A roomate, diagnosed with schizophrenia, once observed that there are a high proportion of schizophrenics that are atheist.  It's hard to believe in a God who simply flunked chemistry. 

Or we can believe and bring our lament to the Lord.  We can plead our case before the almighty and hope for grace in the time of our need.  And strain to see light at the end of the tunnel.

Such is the plight of the mentally ill, especially those who are so young.  God be with them.