Mental illness and UX – with Diane Havlicek

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A conversation with a bipolar developer on the inclusion of people with mental illness

Mental health conditions affect perception, thinking, emotions, or behaviour. They can include disorders such as bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, severe depression, or anxiety disorders.

To learn more on the subject, I spoke with Diane Havlicek, a backend developer I met at a French conference after her talk on neurodiversity in tech. I was immediately struck by her precise choice of words—both thoughtful and slightly provocative.

Diane shared her experience: how anxiety and regret shape her online interactions, what makes an interface more or less accessible, and how design can better meet her needs as a bipolar and anxious user.

She also shared her perspective on diversity in the workplace. For Diane, diversity is valuable, but it shouldn’t be reduced to quotas or tokenism. What matters is seeking out varied skills and viewpoints rather than focusing solely on identities. She advocates for a more inclusive and fair hiring process—one that expands opportunities without falling into the trap of reverse discrimination.

Bipolar disorder: between stigma, diagnosis, and identity

How would you describe bipolar disorder?

The common misconception is that people with bipolar disorder are moody, often angry, and change their minds all the time. In reality, they often experience depression. But on top of that, they have an episode called mania, which lasts from a few weeks to a few months, with a mood much higher than usual. A high mood doesn’t necessarily mean euphoria. It mostly involves an explosion of ideas, a rapid flow of thoughts, and sometimes irritability. In the most common types of bipolar disorder, these high phases can last for quite a while.

Are there different types of bipolar disorder?

Yes, there are subtypes, such as cyclothymia, where the mood swings are shorter and closer together. There are also people who aren’t diagnosed with bipolar disorder but have cyclothymic moods. The classifications are complex, and we don’t always realise that different psychiatric conditions can have overlapping needs.

For example, I’m also an extremely anxious person, and that really affects my life. That’s my biggest challenge, and it’s not related to my bipolar disorder—even though we know that bipolarity often comes with comorbidities.

How do you differentiate illness, neurodivergence, and disability?‍

‍For me, it’s just a matter of perspective because, in the end, we’re talking about the same thing. When I say, “I have bipolar disorder,” you could also say, “I’m neurodivergent,” or “I’m disabled,” or “I have an illness.” It just depends on the lens you’re using.

From a clinical perspective, I’m ill because my body doesn’t function in a typical way—I have a medical condition.

From a work or personal life perspective, I have a disability because I face difficulties in certain areas.

From a social perspective, I’m different because I don’t function like most people. That difference can be called neurodivergence—something outside the norm.

Is a medical diagnosis essential, or can personal and social recognition be enough?

From an administrative point of view, no disability exists without a medical diagnosis. But getting diagnosed takes long for most psychiatric conditions. Psychiatrists aren’t the most available doctors, so there’s a lot of wait. I saw psychiatrists long before I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. My first depressive episodes started in my teens. I knew something wasn’t right, but it still took nine years to get a diagnosis.

Now, is a diagnosis essential? It depends on what you want to do. Being diagnosed and recognised by others is important. A lot of people self-identify as autistic or having ADHD. Personally, I like having it confirmed by a professional. Otherwise, it could just be hypochondria or symptom exaggeration.

That being said, I experienced depressive episodes long before my bipolar disorder diagnosis. It was frustrating that people saw me as perfectly fine. So for me, the diagnosis was a relief. It legitimised my struggles. It also opened doors from an administrative point of view.

So at the same time, I think we should acknowledge the legitimacy of suspecting a condition. Suspecting a disorder is valid. We need to consider the possibility of disability even in people who appear to be healthy. It’s very common—so yes, we should always take that into account.

Did your late diagnosis play a role in how you recognised your trans identity?‍

‍Yes, I only realised I was trans two or three years ago. With bipolar disorder, you go through phases of euphoria and depression. That made my self-perception chaotic—my thoughts were all over the place, my desires constantly shifting. Understanding and affirming my identity was much harder because of that.

However, I came out as gay when I was 18. That was always clear to me—I was someone for whom it wasn’t confusing.

After years of medical uncertainty and questioning your identity, how do you see the systems that define and categorise people?

We challenge a lot of things when we redefine labels and gender. Entire systems are built on binaries—like social security. Even labels for sexual orientation, like “gay,” “lesbian,” or “straight,” don’t fully capture the experiences of non-binary people and their partners. That shakes up the system.

But we can take comfort in the fact that 50 or 100 years ago, things were way worse. We always build on what our ancestors left us—for better or worse. We just do the best we can with what we have.

You mention rigid classification systems. Do you think that applies to disability as well?‍

‍A lot of people, when they imagine being disabled, think, “If that happened to me, I’d rather be dead.” But how many people actually take their own lives when they reach 70 and start losing mobility? Thankfully, not that many—because they still have things to enjoy. Just because they’re not as able-bodied as they were at 30 years old doesn’t mean their life is over. Being disabled doesn’t mean living in constant suffering, and it doesn’t make your life worthless. It’s just part of who you are, and you learn to live with it.

That said, many people feel anger about being disabled because they see it as unfair. There’s nothing fair about being born disabled. That frustration often turns into activism. It’s a struggle we have to live with—there’s no other choice. Because, let’s be honest, there are no real “benefits” to being disabled.

One stereotype I can’t stand is the “superhero” disabled person who develops extraordinary compensatory abilities. The whole “Rain Man” or “Daredevil” narrative—it’s just not realistic.

It seems like diagnoses can feel like a coming out—where, for a while, you’re just a label. How do you see it?‍

‍It’s important to separate neurodivergence from personality and lived experience. I could have chosen to see everything through the lens of bipolar disorder—the intensity, the bluntness, the outspokenness, even my ease with public speaking. Saying things that shock people and not being fazed by it—that could be a trait of bipolarity. But I think it’s just part of my personality.

It sounds simple, but honestly, I don’t know who I would be if I weren’t disabled. I understand that for some people, the line between identity and diagnosis is blurry. But making that distinction helps us understand what is a medical condition that needs support and what is simply part of who we are.

Disability in the workplace: when to speak up and what to expect

Should you disclose your diagnosis before starting a new job?

I’m firmly in the "say nothing" camp—at least for the interview process. You can mention your needs, to gauge the company’s culture, but not necessarily the reason for them. For instance, my biggest need is remote working. That’s non-negotiable for me. The company might not understand why I’m so focused on this, but that’s fine. I don’t explain it because I’ve tried in the past and it went terribly wrong. Assuming recruiters are well-informed about disability is often a mistake—they usually aren’t.

Beyond remote working, what workplace adjustments are essential for you?

The most important one is flexible leave. I need to be able to say, sometimes overnight, that I can’t work. This is tied to my bipolar disorder and mood fluctuations, but also to anxiety. I sometimes have panic attacks. This kind of accommodation is crucial, but it’s nearly impossible to negotiate upfront. That’s why I only disclose my condition once I’m already working with the company. I explain my needs, and it either works out or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, I can always take sick leave, but I’d rather have the flexibility to take leave without needing someone’s approval.

Another key factor is reducing work travel. Frequent trips are extremely stressful for me. I hate public transport. Being surrounded by strangers for half an hour, feeling their stares, and not knowing what to do with myself—it's overwhelming. My mind floods with intrusive thoughts: "Do I smell? Do I look presentable enough?"

But my real need isn’t necessarily for specific accommodations. It’s more about an inclusive company culture. That means considering different religions and dietary needs, for example. If there’s a canteen, is there a vegetarian option? These things affect me directly, but they also reflect how a company values individual differences. You can’t just have one-size-fits-all policies.

What makes a hiring process both safe and fair?

Honestly, I don’t set the bar very high. A safe hiring process is one where cultural markers aren’t used to assess me. I don’t want to be asked if I play video games, if I like football, or what I do outside of work. The fewer personal questions, the better. Because someone who looks like me—a middle-aged white man—might have a completely different cultural background. If the interviewer tries to establish a connection based on those questions and it doesn’t work, I risk being rejected for discriminatory reasons.

Here’s an example: I was applying for a job and had passed all the technical interviews. One of the final steps was a team lunch, but because of COVID, it was just a virtual meeting with the team. Everyone introduced themselves, and at one point, a new person appeared. I asked, "Hello, who are you?" It turned out to be the CEO. He did not like that question. Things spiralled quickly, and I became anxious. Later, I was told I had given off a "negative impression" and was rejected. Sounds ridiculous, right? But to me, it’s infuriating. I was fully qualified for the role but was dismissed for cultural reasons. That company wanted upbeat, traditional, cis white men. In hindsight, I dodged a bullet.

To me, a fair hiring process ends with the technical interview. If someone meets the company’s needs, the next step should be salary negotiations—nothing more. At least for execution-level roles. And when I say "skills," I don’t just mean technical knowledge but also communication abilities.

What do people still misunderstand about your needs?

People assume that disabled workers need to work less, work more slowly, or receive extra guidance. But I’ve worked at many companies without disclosing my diagnosis, and I was always told I did excellent work. I don’t feel slower or in need of extra support. The real issue isn’t productivity—it’s accessibility. People think disabled employees are less capable when, in reality, we only struggle if the workplace isn’t accessible.

Calm UX for mental health: minimising stressful interactions

As a bipolar user with anxiety, what are your needs when using a digital service?

There are several things that make digital experiences difficult for me. One of them is the harshness of certain messages. I’ve experienced this a lot on social media, to the point where I had to cut it all off—it was just too aggressive, too anxiety-inducing. The way a message is perceived can vary from person to person. For me, it could be something as simple as a bold “warning” in oversized text, or wording that makes it seem like I’m making a huge mistake when that’s not necessarily the case. Maybe it’s just what I want to do, and that’s fine.

There’s also the issue of regret. I sometimes deeply regret posting something I didn’t fully mean. This can also happen on e-commerce sites when I can’t cancel an action, like a purchase. I need the option to undo my decisions.

Some digital services use “danger zone” messages—things like “warning: If you click here, this action is irreversible. You will lose everything.” These kinds of messages can be overwhelming and intrusive. I just need clear, simple explanations and the ability to undo actions within a reasonable timeframe.

Take account deletion, for example. There are two ways to handle it. One is a big red button with a scary message: “Are you sure? This will delete your account permanently.” The other way is to let users delete their account but then send them a confirmation email saying, “You have a week to change your mind.” If needed, they can undo it—simple. I much prefer this second approach. Ideally, I’d like a 2-3 day grace period for flexibility.

As a UX designer, if I could do just one thing to improve your experience, what would it be?

That would be avoiding text overload. My attention span is relatively short, so I need short blocks of text, with the option to explore more details if I want to. This might be linked to my condition or even my medication, but focusing can be a challenge.

Another major issue is elements that appear on their own—especially pop-ups. It’s particularly frustrating. And if a site plays unexpected sounds? I close it immediately.

Beyond tokenism: more than just a numbers game

What are the benefits of having a diverse team, in your opinion?

Diversity has real benefits, but the impact may vary with context. For example, I believe a diverse management team has far more influence than diversity in the executive team. Managers are the ones driving new ideas, shaping products and the company itself. Furthermore, cultural uniformity is most noticeable in privileged positions, and access to these roles remains a major challenge for people from the minorities.

That being said, we should ask ourselves: does hiring more women in a development team automatically improve its performance? Ethically, I believe every candidate should be given a fair chance. But I remain cautious about the way diversity is approached. It’s a great ambition, but for me, it shouldn’t be limited to recruitment.

I don’t want diversity to turn into situations where a female developer is asked, "So, what’s it like to be a woman developer?" Or worse, where someone is rejected because it turns out they are a transgender man. At that point, the focus is no longer on skills or what the person can contribute, but on tokenism. That’s the issue we need to avoid.

How can we prevent diversity from turning into tokenism?

The priority in any company should be to seek out competent individuals. Competence and minority status are not mutually exclusive. There’s also the question of sourcing talent—where do we look for skilled professionals? Certain schools or events are rooted with minority groups. Companies can engage with these communities by sponsoring or attending such events, making themselves more visible. This sends a clear message about the company’s values and approach to diversity.

For me, the key is to select the most qualified individuals from the communities that can bring the most value. And when I talk about skills, I mean them in the broadest sense—communication, the ability to explain technical concepts clearly, for instance. In development, these are crucial abilities, yet many of my colleagues struggle with them.

Empathy is also important. Have I fully understood the client’s needs? Do I grasp the consequences of failing to prioritise certain issues?

From a company’s perspective, identity-based diversity is not the real asset. The true value lies in diversity of perspectives and skill sets. This can be encouraged by expanding recruitment criteria to consider a broader range of abilities.

From an ethical standpoint, privileges should be distributed transparently and within a fair system. Imagine replacing merit-based qualifications with quotas, or allocating social benefits based on identity rather than financial need. This would create a fundamental contradiction in the principles we claim to uphold—we wouldn’t be eliminating privilege, just reversing it. And we wouldn’t be able to acknowledge it openly. If a job posting explicitly stated “seeking racial minority developer”, it would rightfully be seen as unacceptable.

Because companies hold power and grant privileges, they must give up using subjective criteria—especially those based on identity. It’s still possible to sort through eligible candidates using other ethical criteria. I don’t believe in merit, but why not consider socio-economic factors instead, giving priority to those who are most disadvantaged? In any case, I wouldn’t want to live in a society that places a certain value on certain identities. That’s the exact opposite of what we’re fighting for.

More resources about bipolar disorder

• Finding balance in bipolar, by Ellen Forney (TEDx Seattle)
• Smartphone app shows promises in some patients with Bipolar I (Psychiatry Online)‍
• Metaphors of mental illness: how Vincent Van Gogh and Emily Dickinson understood and expressed their personal battles with depression – by Samantha Moss (2020)