Coming out at church

I am considered a nice young man at my church. I am a deacon, usher, and first responder. I socialize a lot after service in the Friendship Room, where we gather for cookies and coffee and fellowship. It was here, today, that I told my assistant minister and a man who has his own radio show that I am schizophrenic and bipolar. They knew already that I was an alcoholic. They thought nothing of it. They treated me the same after the revelation as before it. This is a common response to my illness. The stigma seems to be the product of the mental health profession and not the public at large. I work at Walgreens and everyone in my workplace knows I am schizophrenic. Now they know at my church. I live in a hi-rise. The requirement for living here is a mental l health problem. However, no one talks about it. It is all hush-hush. Yet that’s how we got here, a diagnosis of being off our rocker. I outgrew my diagnosis. The other residents have not.