What if ... hapened? Would you need to go on disability?

They say most people are only two paychecks away from living on the street. I’m beginning to think that most people who have bipolar disorder are only a few “what-ifs” from receiving a disability check.

What if I didn’t have my husband to finance my life while I pursue my oh-so-not lucrative  writing career? What if I wasn’t able to quit the job that demanded I work 10 plus hour days? What if I wasn’t able to find a job flexible enough to maintain healthy boundaries to keep my episodes at bay? What if I became manic again? Or too depressed to show up for work? What if? What if?

I used to think it was absurd when I heard about the amount of bipolar people who are on disability.

According to the Association of Community Mental Health Centers in Kansas, 50 percent of those who are on medicaid with a disability have a mental illness. That’s half of all people who are on disability. Half. Seriously.

I used to think that could never be me. I thought that most likely the majority of people who applied for disability because of bipolar disorder just weren’t trying hard enough. They just hadn’t found the correct cocktail of pharmaceuticals to make them employable. They just weren’t trying hard enough.

I used to think that, until those pesky “what ifs” crept into my head. In reality, I believe if it weren’t for a series of fortunate events I would likely be among those filing for disability, trying to get back on my feet while recovering from this debilitating, chronic illness.

But I’m not on disability. While I am still completely employable, I chose to work on a freelance basis because it works better for my health and my lifestyle. I have that option, and I know that other people don’t.

I’m not on disability because Lithium works phenomenally well with me. As far as prescriptions go Lithium is dirt, dirt cheap. Like it’s on Wal-Mart’s $2 prescription list cheap. (I actually don’t know if it’s on Wal-Mart’s $2 prescription list because I have insurance and get my prescriptions at Dillion’s Pharmacy, but you get the point.)

I’m not on disability because I’ve always been able to have insurance through my employer or my husband’s employer. Since my diagnosis I have never had a gap in insurance for longer than a month.

I’m not on disability because these series of fortunate events have prevented those dreadful “what ifs” from happening.

I know some people would give God credit for my series of fortunate events or would attribute these positive outcomes to my hard work and responsibility. But I’m hesitant to claim to understand the blessings and burdens that come down from the divine. (I have read the book of Job.)

What I do know, is that I have been blessed. And had it not been for the abundance of blessing and grace in my life I could easily be among those applying for disability and medicaid because of my bipolar disorder.

What I do know is that I am only a few “what ifs” away from that fate.

It’s scary to realize how close we are to the “others” we once thought we could never be. It’s scary to realize that if a few breaks hadn’t gone my way my experience could easily be the same as those with whom I don’t want to identify.

But when I let my guard down and acknowledge how interconnected the human experience is I no longer fear those “what ifs.” Instead, I embrace them and the grace that comes in knowing that ultimately we are all in this together.