Anonymous Guest Post: Being A Genetic Counselor As Someone Affected by Mental Illness

This anonymous guest post was written in response to a request in a recent blogpost by Bob Resta asking for genetic counselors who feel that they are different in some way to write about their professional experiences. In a departure from the usual policy of The DNA Exchange, we have agreed to respect the author’s wish to maintain anonymity. For another view of life as a genetic counselor with a perceived disability, see Kelly Rogel’s post from about 10 years ago.

Around six years into my career as a genetic counselor I was given the diagnosis of bipolar type I. Previously I had a diagnosis of severe depressive mood disorder since I was 18 and had managed to make my way through college and into the work force (although it was a very rocky path) before I received the proper diagnosis and medication.

How did this diagnosis affect me as a genetic counselor?

The stigma surrounding mental illness is huge. While I believe it is getting better, I have been at clinical meetings where patients with mental illness have been discussed by different specialists and it seems that the patient is reduced to just their diagnosis. Bipolar, schizophrenia, obsessive compulsive disorder…this make me fearful of disclosing my disorder to colleagues. At the present time my direct supervisor and the head of the department know my diagnosis and are highly supportive. I struck it lucky, however. Unfortunately, in a lot of situations once you have that label of being bipolar it seems everyone looks at you through that lens all the time. Having a bad day? Oh, it’s the bipolar and you’re depressed. Feeling great? You must be manic. It’s frustrating and also means you are constantly second guessing yourself. It also means people aren’t recognizing that you have the normal range of emotions as everyone else – you are not your diagnosis.

It is both a blessing and a curse that bipolar is an ‘invisible’ disorder. You can’t look at me and tell that I have a mental illness, so I don’t have to disclose it to anyone if I don’t want to. However, there are days where getting yourself dressed to go to work feels like walking through quick sand, or you have foggy thinking due to the medication you have to take, and it’s hard to explain this to people when on the outside there’s nothing “wrong” with you. Obviously if these side effects are extreme then it might not be appropriate to be in the workplace, but there are many days that you do have side effects from medication, for example, but it’s not severe enough that you need to take a sick day. It’s a bit like having a mild cold and going to work anyway.

With bipolar, if you want to function then you have to learn how to develop insight into your condition and know your “‘red flags” for both depression and mania. This means that if I feel myself heading in one direction or another, I can nip it in the bud using medication and other treatments before I become a danger to myself or to patients. Unfortunately, I have experienced psychosis several times and have needed hospitalization once in my time as a genetic counselor. While my mental state was deteriorating my supervisor and I made the decision to take me off seeing patients until I recovered. An independent clinician provided by the hospital saw me to assess when it was safe for me to begin seeing patients again.

With patients it’s given me empathy and an understanding of those who have their own mental illness. I am often able to suggest resources available through the public health system that I am aware of that others may not be. For several reasons, though, I do not in any circumstances disclose my condition to patients. I feel that it would be unprofessional to do so as it takes the spotlight off the patient and moves it on to me, I feel the stigma around mental illness may be detrimental to the counseling relationship, and I also feel that you don’t have to have a mental illness to feel empathy towards someone with the condition. I also do not want my patients or colleagues feeling that my clinical care is impacted by my diagnosis.

It’s a difficult life to lead, but I know I’m very lucky to have highly supportive supervisors who have truly made an effort to understand the condition and how it is managed. I imagine my experience would have been very different if the resources available were not in place or I didn’t have access to them.