Jeff Hess at Have Coffee Will Write posted something last night that touched me greatly and got me thinking. In a reference to a monk attempting self-immolation, he had this to say, “Was it frustration, anger or a brain illness? Is it just that not everyone has the will of the Buddha?”

Not “mental illness,” as I’m used to hearing and cringing from, but brain illness. When I commented and thanked him for it, he replied with this:

Shalom Terry,

You’re very welcome.

It seems to me that as we continue to expand our understanding of the function of the brain as an organ and not as some mystical container for the mind, it makes greater sense to speak of brain illness, just as we would heart or liver illness, than to speak of mental illness.

Enlarging upon the thought, would brain disease be more appropriate?

B’shalom,

Jeff

This was a complete mental shift for me. I’m still not at the point where saying “I have bipolar” rather than saying “I am bipolar” is automatic. I’ve internalized a lot of stigma and shame about BPD and I still blame myself for my symptoms, perhaps not inappropriately. But Jeff’s affirmation gives me a new perspective on my condition.

I answered:

Disease, to me, implies more of a chronic condition than illness does, which sounds as if it will pass or can be cured. Flu is an illness; diabetes is a disease. While some conditions can indeed be cured, for most it’s a case of keeping symptoms controlled and actively managing the disease to live a full, healthy life. Either term is a great improvement and goes a long way toward removing stigma from those living with brain diseases.

If we look at bipolar disorder as an organic brain disease rather than a character failing, it frees us to catalog our symptoms and pursue treatment without fear of condemnation. This is an important distinction, because the shame is bone deep. I am not defective. I have a disease that I actively seek to control. Under the best of circumstances, I am in control of my treatment, the same as a diabetic is.

This is a fine distinctive, but important, I think. I’m affected by my disease but not defined by it. I have a disease which is focused on my brain. I am a worthy human being. I am not a mistake. Support from allies like Jeff is important, both to those of us with brain diseases and those at large.

With that kind of support we can reach our potential. Words matter. Please stop and consider the impact of yours.