One day I was copying the DSM-IV criterion for ADHD, MDD and PTSD and while I was reading PTSD for the first time I was a little confused about its "physical" quantifier for trauma. I started talking about it to the troubled friend I wrote about before and she stopped me after I said "So I was writing in my Diagnosis Diary..." and said that I should focus more on the treatment than the diagnosis since that's what matters.
The thing is, being diagnosed and knowing they're real is a huge part of my treatment. I spent so long worrying and wondering that I was making it all up that having a trained, educated person with doctorates and professional degrees tell me that "No, this is real, you're not making it up, these feelings, thoughts and actions are because of what happened, you have XYZ because of it" is so intensely soothing. I can hold on to it like it's a solid object and focus on it, knowing it's real.
"I'm not a liar. I'm not trying to be a special snowflake. I'm not making mountains out of mole hills. I'm not over-reacting, or being dramatic. This is REAL."
That is the confirmation my Dxs give me. In the way of my metaphysical beliefs go, names are powerful. Having the sets of symptoms and traumatic experiences classified and named gives me power over them. With my education I may resent having the physicality of my synapses pathologized, but that does not eclipse the power having a name, a diagnosis, gives me.
Once I explained this to my friend she got it completely, however I'm left feeling a little distanced from others. I had the name of my DIARY criticized? MY DIARY? It's like someone pissed in the sacristy.
Ah well. I can't win them all.
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