Rewriting My Story

How I stopped seeing myself as broken

"It’s weird to think of my story through the lens of giftedness after spending so much time viewing it through the perspectives of mental illness and addiction." (September 29, 2018)

For years, my story was one of pathology. It was a story of diagnoses, medications, psychiatric hospitalizations, and struggles with addiction. It was about survival, about feeling like I was inherently broken, as if there were something fundamentally wrong with me that could only be managed, but never healed or transformed. It was a story shaped by the labels others placed upon me, the ones I accepted as truths, and the ways those labels distorted my self-perception.

But I have come to understand that the way we frame our own stories has immense power. The lens through which we see ourselves determines the path forward. And I was long overdue for a shift in perspective.

Photo by Paul Skorupskas on Unsplash

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A Life Defined by Diagnosis

I was sixteen years old when I started writing in a journal almost daily. I didn’t know then that I was documenting a life that would later feel like a case study in positive disintegration. Back then, it felt more like drowning.

By the time I was in my twenties, I had fully internalized the idea that I was mentally ill. My experiences were filtered through the DSM—a book that came to define me far more than I realized at the time. Every struggle, every breakdown, every existential crisis was met with a new diagnosis, a new prescription. I took medication for bipolar disorder for over two decades, convinced that without it, I would spiral out of control.

In 2015, I began questioning this narrative.

"I stopped taking Lamictal today. My plan is to be aware of my moods much like I already do—but more purposefully. What I wrote and what other people perceived isn’t helping me with the bipolar question. There’s no 'test' for bipolar disorder—and while there also isn’t one for ADHD, there are instruments available which indicate that I do have ADHD." (August 20, 2015)

Then, in 2017, I stopped taking Adderall and Klonopin, my last psychiatric medications. I had spent years trying to determine whether I was dealing with a disorder or whether I was simply trying to make sense of my own mind.

And in doing so, I realized something profound: I had spent my life searching for answers in the wrong places.

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Reframing the Past

As I delved into Dąbrowski’s theory of positive disintegration (TPD), I began to see my experiences not as evidence of pathology, but as developmental processes. The mood swings, the existential crises, the deep dissatisfaction with myself—these were not indicators of mental illness, but rather signs of inner transformation.

“During the autoethnography, I looked back at the past and thought of myself as having more than one type of mental illness. All I had for making sense of it came from the world of psychiatry. I felt that medication would be necessary for the rest of my life. I saw myself as essentially damaged and defective. It took time for me to process what I read in the work of Dabrowski and Piechowski. It took time for me to get to a place where I could open my mind to such an alternative to the DSM." (April 29, 2019)

I wasn’t broken. I was undergoing disintegration, and disintegration is not inherently bad. It is painful, yes. But it is also necessary for growth.

This realization changed everything for me.

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The Stories We Inherit vs. The Stories We Choose

A few years ago, I told my partner, Jason, that I needed to change the story about my father.

For most of my life, I had framed him as a rejecting parent, a figure who represented emotional maltreatment. During my master’s degree in social work, I specialized in child welfare and tried to understand emotional neglect, complex trauma, and the wounds of childhood.

Years later, I found myself standing in the present, looking at my own sixteen-year-old son, Jack. And suddenly, I saw my father in a different light. He had been sixteen years old when I was born. I realized that maybe my father wasn’t rejecting me. Maybe he had been a sixteen-year-old boy with no idea how to be a parent. Maybe he had done the best he could.

“The other day I was talking about being wounded when I was a child by a rejecting parent. I told Jason that I need to change that part of my story.” (November 22, 2022)

This shift in perspective wasn’t about forgiving or forgetting. It was about understanding. About choosing to see the whole picture, rather than the single narrative I had clung to for so long.

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Unlearning Pathology, Embracing Complexity

None of this is meant to romanticize pain or suggest that everyone’s path should mirror mine. Changing my story hasn’t meant denying my struggles. It hasn’t meant pretending that I didn’t face addiction, trauma, or psychiatric hospitalizations. It means embracing the complexity of my life and understanding that these experiences are part of a larger, developmental journey.

For me, stepping away from psychiatric medication was part of my journey, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right path for everyone. I’m not saying medication has no place—because for many, it is a crucial part of their healing and stability. But it’s also not the only answer, and we don’t have to accept it as the only option. It’s OK to push back, to ask questions, and to learn how to function without it once crises have passed.

What I’ve learned is that there are many ways to support our nervous systems, manage our emotions, and develop our inner resources—and for me, understanding positive disintegration was key. It allowed me to see that what I once viewed as mental illness was actually deep transformation in progress.

As I continue to reflect on my life through the lens of Dąbrowski’s work, I see now that positive disintegration is not just something I study—it is something I have lived.

And most importantly, I see that I am not broken. I never was.

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A Final Thought

"What do I want to discuss with Frank tomorrow? I guess the big thing that has changed thanks to Michael is the lens change that I’ve gone through when it comes to my past." (April 29, 2019)

For years, I saw myself through a distorted lens. I believed the story that I was damaged. That I was incurably ill. That I would always need medication to function.

But I am no longer that person. My story has changed, and so have I.

If you’ve ever felt defined by your diagnosis or wondered whether there’s another way to understand your inner life, I hope this gives you permission to look again. We’re allowed to evolve, and so are our stories.

If you’d like to read more about my experience of changing my story, I've written another post that explores it in more depth.

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🎙️ New Podcast

I’m excited to share that I’ve launched a new podcast this month with my friend and co-host, Marni Kammersell. PDA: Resistance and Resilience is a show that explores the pervasive drive for autonomy, also known as pathological demand avoidance. It’s available on Substack and all major podcast platforms.