Bipolar Disorder & The Blame Game

When I first began college, I was lost in a fiery blaze.

It was a rough patch surviving at an old, unknown place, where whenever the wind blew, I could feel the ice on my skin...until I got to Florida International University, which made life so much easier. They were a cheerful bunch, and I made it a point to stay in-contact with many of the faculty, professors, and students I have met. They revived my tiresome spirit by allowing me to showcase what I had to offer: public lectures, event coordination, and...

…well, they gave me a home.

Rather, a future.

This is a subtle story about the school I came from, and the reason why we should be very careful before we leap. It is a war I have waged since I was fourteen and first diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and two anxiety disorders (they also said I was "psychotic," which by now, we can all agree is relatively convolutive): the true war on education and mental health.

The Beginning Of A Dead-End

After years of tirelessly working toward that Associate's degree, I was called into a now-fired Dean's office to "chat." I met him with my mother, who carefully orchestrated her best of attempts to keep me in that place. After all, my father had paid the tuition; I had a 3.7 GPA... so what could they possibly have to discuss? One simple thing, and this you will have to come back to: apparently I had peeved the wrong person off, and it was reported.

Truth be told, I had not peeved anybody off.

With an armed guard standing by the doorway, and a series of bobbling heads sitting cozily in the armchairs of luxurious higher-end makes than my own, I was told that I had made some supposed "disturbing remarks" to several professors.

I was flabbergasted.

Why would I say anything negative to a professor? Well, if you have known me for as long as I have known myself, you will realize that geniuses often have a radically different manner in communicating their main points, and apparently, I had made some remarks that did not sit well with the school. That day, I was told I could not return to campus...

The Evidence Piled Up

On February 14th, 2018, Florida became infamously known as the "red gun" state.

Seventeen young ones were killed, and an additional seventeen were injured during the Parkland, Florida shooting that took place. I recall the terror of this, and we all felt the same way for a radical change of pace. It was the dawn of a new age, which would lead to a media frenzy that later indulged additional school shootings across the nation.

However, the aftermath of this led to something far different than I expected: indifference and a mental health debate, and this is a short tale of an unsatisfactory world, one bound by the imprisonment of media frenzies and panic. So, why did they call me in?

Threatening Remarks...?

Now, the Dean stated that I had made "threatening remarks" to a professor.

It was unfortunate that my ailments were documented in the accessibility department's troposphere. This is where it gets rather fascinating, albeit, deliberately self-destructive. It was four days after the Parkland Shooting that I was called into that Dean's office, and I was told: "I had made threatening remarks to a professor."

I had not threatened a professor; that would be counterproductive, albeit, unprofessional. Perhaps I had said something negative, or simply rubbed somebody the wrong way, but there were never any threats, nor did the Dean of that school have any evidence of such.

I may have been a bit of a pain in the butt, but with the world crumbling before all of us around that time (recessions were ending, shootings were on the rise, and we had not even reached the day-and-age of COVID...), there was no proof that I had done anything of the sort. Recapturing the moment, I was not a troublesome student.

In fact, I can be one, but I eventually learned to keep my big mouth shut.

Now, Others Were Victims, Too

However, when I arrived at that Dean's office four days after the Parkland Shooting, I began the research process I had ironically learned while in the college itself. It was a frightening twist of fate: I was not the only one who had been called into that office.

I began to do some research on the matter, and then came the evidence: voila, I was alerted by an anonymous source at the school (as I said, I make friends in weird places) that one-hundred-and-sixteen other students were called into that Dean's office roughly four-to-five days after the Parkland shooting that changed our nation for good.

Turns out, I was suffering from a diagnosis-based trend, and I was not the only one: everybody in that school who had been diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder had been called in to that office, just like I was, and they were all told the same thing:

"You said so-and-so to a professor, so bye, good luck."

Then The Storm Came...

Now, four years later, I have made it through my Bachelor's degree and I am pursuing my Masters degree, making darned sure not to upset anybody. I have failed at that, I admit, but I did much better. However, if this story has a point whatsoever, it is that a simple fact was what determined my graduation from Community College: I was Bipolar, and apparently, Parkland's shooting featured (you guessed it) a student who had the same ailment.

You see, I almost did not graduate because of this. Bipolar Disorder is dramatically over-estimated. I was pulled from that school based on a diagnosis, not a threat. I was one of 106 other Bipolar students at my campus who was called in within a week of that shooting.

I later connected the dots, and I fought tooth-and-nail to keep myself calm. I wanted nothing more than to graduate; I had spent four tiresome years fighting for it, and though I made the climb, this all has a much more radical point: we seem to all be playing the "blame game."

Mental illness is only dangerous when untreated.

The Diagnoses Run Rampant

Roughly 2.6 percent of the U.S. population suffers from Bipolar Disorder, and it is wholeheartedly misunderstood. Though I may have made it to the end of that awful experience (long story short, I raised so much hell that they were almost forced to let me graduate, and yes, those members of the Community College committee were not only fired, but sued and tried in court - thanks to my pain-in-the-butt mentality)…but that does not take away the hurt it had caused. In fact, I was victimized at the hands of conduct.

Diagnoses run rampant among doctors. We all seem to think that mental illness is more than just a disease; it is a way of living. Sure, the Parkland Shooting of 2018 led to a crisis, even leading me to a Dean's office where I was told that among a hand-picked group of students diagnosed with the same disorder as I am, could not return to campus.

However, indifference does not balance out the cauterization of mental health.

Mental health is radically over-discussed these days, especially at a time when school shootings run rampant and Capitol Hill is stormed by hundreds of angry voters.

Stop Playing The Blame Game

We need to all take a beat and realize that though we can play the blame-game, i.e. what happened to me that fateful day, we need to be a bit more concerned about our conduct around those diagnosed. Just like you give a wheelchair to a student who cannot walk, so should a diagnosis be treated with medication and treatment.

I like to think this story has a grand point...

And that is simple, and sorry for the short article today: the world is changing, and we all seem to be blaming the wrong people. In fact, we are all placing "blame" on just about everyone these days. Now, if you want to ask me how this story turned out, see below.

I am now on my way to Graduate School....

I graduated because I made it a point to (and here is the moral of the story) siphon every tax-paid dollar from that Community College by quite literally taking action like no one else would ever dare: I called in the National Guard, so-to-speak, and interviewed with news stations, the American Psychological Association, and the Board Of Education.

Don't Blame Or Shame

Rather, take this to heart: everyone has some form of crisis within them. We all wage war with demons from time-to-time, and it is no excuse for us to fall in-line with this trend.

We need to be wary that not everyone in a wheelchair cannot walk; that not everyone with a mental illness or diagnosis is dangerous; that the person honking behind you the moment the light changes (give me a second to register it, please!) may be going through a divorce.

We need to all take a lesson from this short tale: those of us who pass judgment on said sicknesses are in denial of our own shadows. Next time we see an ad for gun control, listen. Next time we see warning signs of a person literally on the ledge of a building, talk them down from it. The next time you see someone who wishes to cause harm, talk to them.

Make A Strong Stand Today

In fact, I make it a daily point here in Miami to not only hand over a dollar bill to a homeless man when it is available to spend; I also speak with them, or buy them water, or a meal, or a salad. Point being? Stop blaming, stop shaming, and instead, love one another for who we all are. Diagnoses be darned, I never threatened anybody.

And I did no take it lying down.

In Conclusion

This has been a short discussion that I want to continue at a later point. Though non-conducive to LinkedIn directly (or business, or marketing), as a Content Marketer, there is a fundamental rule: catch attention. I hope I caught yours. We need to be thinking a bit more productively these days, and that involves careful due diligence.

When we see someone suffering, we have to make it a point to take a stand for them. And when we feel we are unfairly fired, or unfairly told we cannot graduate, humankind has to figure something out. Do not let blame ruin your life, and do not feel threatened by those who bear no resemblance to another except in the event that they act as such.

And today, do something good for once.

Let someone cut you off in traffic; they may be late for work, while you may have ample time. Let someone pass, or speed up so they can merge. Do not make fun of that homeless man holding a sign. Rather, take the risk and, should you have it, hand them a dollar bill, or even a half-drunk bottle of water you will inevitably throw away later on.

Do some good today, and I hope this story did to you what it did to me :)

www.Circle5Books.com for writing help

www.ValianceCoaching.org for personal