Wearing One's Disorder Like a Badge

A few weeks ago, I heard an NPR show in which an adult woman discussed her own, personal voyage through life. She discovered, in her adulthood, that she had always had Asperger's Syndrome, which is considered to be a relatively high-functioning affliction in the autism spectrum of disorders. This guest regarded her diagnosis, albeit while living as a well-functioning adult in society, as a kind of self-discovery and... I have to say, a source of pride at having this label to attach to herself.

From what I know of Asperger's Syndrome, those with it tend to find human companionship irrelevant at best and highly stressful at worst. They also tend to be overly sensitive to crowds and the kind of very noisy situations commonly arising from them. This I myself understand and identify with. I have long understood that I am afflicted with a hypersensitivity to the kind of audio input provided in large, noisy crowd settings. And I generally tend to keep to myself and avoid involvement with others. But I refuse to label myself with any diagnosis name, nor would I ever deliberately set out to obtain one. But the woman on the NPR program relished and even flaunted her "title".

Which brings me to the main point of that show: the psychiatric authorities responsible for naming disorders of this sort have decided to stop using "Asperger's Syndrome" as a diagnosis, instead choosing to integrate their view of those originally so diagnosed as being a part of the general autism spectrum. The woman with Aspergers was almost distraught at the prospect of losing her "badge". And badge is a good analogy, for it reminds me of the soldier in Stephen Crane's book Red Badge of Courage who found in having a visible wound a way for him to find his place within the often incomprehensible setting of the U.S. Civil War. For many, life itself is a kind of war, and they must grab hold of anything that can help them withstand its perceived perils. And psychiatric self-labeling is a device some apparently use to this end.

I was always under the impression that many mental disorders are latently present within us, subject to counterbalancing forces we have. How many students of an abnormal psychology course will go through their textbooks and see themselves in disorder after disorder? It is when our ability to function effectively decreases (especially when leading to social conflict), that it is necessary to seek a "diagnosis" and receive "treatment". To already be high-functioning, albeit with some uncomfortable leanings, and then seek an "official" diagnosis strikes me as being just a little bit beyond the pale. After all, as the Rush song Vital Signs goes, "Everybody gotta deviate from the norm."