Doing Disorder Research Is Vital

There is a video that recently made the rounds on the news. In it, a young man is in the emergency room, having a severe anxiety attack. The doctor, tells him “you’re the least sick of all the people who are here who are dying.”

When the young man and his father talk about how they’ve done disorder research on his anxiety, the doctor scoff and then laughs when he expresses difficulty breathing. All this, despite the young man being transported to the hospital by ambulance after collapsing as a result of the anxiety attack at basketball practice.

Before you start talking about backwater towns and the limited mental health care that is available in less-urban areas or poorer areas, let me add: This happened in the heart of Silicon Valley, in an area where buying a home starts in the high $900s and many break the $1 million mark.

What got this young man and his father through the experience was that they had done the disorder research, and knew the symptoms of an anxiety attack and what treatments were likely to be most helpful.

It’s one of the most critical components of a mental health diagnosis and one of the most neglected: Researching and gaining a deep understanding of the symptoms of your diagnosis and matching those symptoms to your personal experiences. Doing disorder research is critical to your ultimate success.

I know there are a few reasons to skip this step. It can be scary to see all the symptoms laid out before us. Shortness of breath is a common anxiety symptom, as is constant fidgeting.

For those with bipolar disorder, spending sprees are a well-known symptom, whereas absent-mindedness and dissociative episodes are just as frequent, but not as publicly known.

In particular, seeing unexpressed symptoms laid out can bring about anxiety and new fear: “I haven’t had that symptom yet; does this mean it’s going to happen at some point in the future?”

And next: “What does this mean for my life? Will I constantly be battling these symptoms? Will I be able to hold down a job? How will this impact my relationships? Will new symptoms appear?”

When we stop and think about these questions, however, we realize that the situation is not as scary as it seems. The disorder research simply lets us know what we might face. It’s not a death sentence.

What does this mean for my life? That I have work to do, to learn to manage my symptoms.

Will I constantly be battling these symptoms? Few diagnoses have persistent and constant symptoms; most are episodic, and many can be traced to specific triggers. Identifying and minimizing exposure to triggers is one of the easiest ways to reduce symptomatic experiences.

Will I be able to hold down a job? For many, yes. The nature of the work we do may change, or we may require accommodations (covered by the Americans with Disabilities Acts in the United States), but most of us are able to hold down an income-generating position.

While I no longer work in a corporate environment, I now write books and run Wounded Birds Ministry. I am the boss; if I need a day off, I give it to myself.

While I miss working in a corporate environment, my stress levels are lower now, making it easier to manage my symptoms and still allowing me to contribute to my family.

How will this impact my relationships? First, let’s acknowledge that the disorder – whatever your diagnosis – is already affecting your relationships.

For most, the relationships are under strain, as our illness makes it difficult to modulate our emotions, leading to us overreacting to stimuli. Also, we are likely poor at setting and maintaining healthy boundaries.

Getting healthy means that our relationships will change. Some will get much better; others will not – and we may choose to let those relationships go. New, healthier relationships may enter our lives.

While we can’t see the future and how each relationship will change, we can have faith that if we do the work, most of our relationships will get better.

Will new symptoms appear? The likelihood of this is (in my anecdotal experience) slim. Usually, by the time we get a diagnosis, we’ve experienced the full spectrum of symptoms that we are prone to.

What is more likely to happen is the intensity of the symptoms may vary as we do the work to get better. Stress is the primary driver of these intensified symptoms, although biological factors also influence the experience.

Even if new symptoms do appear, that’s not a crisis When we’ve done our disorder research, we aren’t surprised by a new symptom that is related to the disorder. We can look at it and say, “OK, I’ve never had this before, but my research tells me this is an anxiety symptom.”

It removes the stress of wondering if we are having a new medical issue. Instead, it becomes a question of how to manage this new symptom.

This is how the young man ended up in the hospital and was able to advocate calmly for himself. He did his disorder research, he knew his symptoms, and that put him in a position of strength and control.

He could push back confidently against the doctor’s statements (whose behavior, while unprofessional and inaccurate, is also sadly representative of many of the stories I hear from people).

There’s a more significant benefit to us. Another story I hear from people is that their legitimate medical complaints are lumped together with their mental health condition.

One woman I know had a lump – a visible lump – on her neck. Her doctor told her she was just being anxious and to see what happened over the next three months. There was no biopsy or in-depth examination of this sudden change in her body. While anxiety can cause an increase in physical pain, I haven’t seen documented evidence of anxiety causing a lump.

Having done the disorder research on anxiety, this young woman was able to persevere with her doctor to get her lump more closely evaluated.

I’ve seen similar results in people who are complaining of pain in a limb, or who have new headaches. Knowing their symptoms gives them the confidence to advocate for themselves with their doctors, who are usually not as well educated on various mental illnesses and how they reflect in patients’ bodies.

Additionally, we may discover that quirky components of our personality are a direct reflection of our disorder. My tendency towards forgetfulness is a symptom of my bipolar disorder. My sensitivity to light and sound waxes and wanes with other symptoms.

I didn’t know that my childhood experiences were actually dissociative episodes, and indicators of bipolar disorder until I did the research. It’s provided relief and compassion for many of my experiences, and now I’m learning how to manage each of those, as well.

Knowing our symptoms is a critical component of our treatment plan. The better we understand our symptoms, the better we are able to care for ourselves and manage our disorders.

Have you researched your diagnosis? What did you learn?