Asylum Walk (56)

Exchanges:

Where’s the hope?

Everywhere, or nowhere.

You said there would be hope.

No, I said there is hope. There’s sunlight, too. It doesn’t mean you’re standing in it. It doesn’t mean it’s not night.
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When did you finally accept your diagnosis?

If by “accept” you mean absolutely, unconditionally—then never. But as a useful shorthand, I adopted it at age 49, four years ago.

Why then?

It fit facts I could no longer dispute. And it’s hard to talk about anything without a name.

It became useful?

Necessary. I didn’t want to waste another second fighting a name when I needed all of my energy to fight what the name refers to.

So you’re okay with labels?

Okay, not-okay. I’m less interested in labels than in what they mean to the people using them.
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Who determines what “high functioning” means?

You do. Who else?