We’re Really in The Soup, Aren’t We?

That is what madness is, isn’t it? All the wheels fly off the bus and things don’t make sense anymore. Or rather, they do, but it’s not a kind of sense anyone else can understand

– Audrey Niffennegger

After two weeks, a slight return. Whether it’s my children or my day job (it’s only June and we’re hitting 105 degrees with the heat index – not exactly prime conditions for mowing), free time has been non-existent for me, and it’s affected all avenues of my writing for the time being. If I can’t write, I will read. There hasn’t been too much time for either of those things, though. Stuck in the soup.

I do, however, have something on my mind. I live in a small town. Bars, churches, and fast-food restaurants take up most of the space. Conservatives, drunks, and drunk conservatives take up most of what’s left, not leaving much of anything for the rest of us. So, there aren’t a lot of resources for…anything. This became all too clear recently after watching a local Facebook group dedicated to those suffering from drug and alcohol addiction do battle with members of Small Mind, USA.

Agree or disagree, alcoholism and addiction are considered diseases in the scientific and medical fields. Diseases can be managed or treated so not all hope is lost. To many, though, addiction is a choice. I’m not going to pretend that I know the ins and outs of all of the science, but it shouldn’t take a scientist to understand the effects alcohol and drug use have on human biology and brain chemistry.

“You chose to put the needle in your arm, junky.” Granted, that’s kind of fair, I guess, but on a very low, superficial level. It’s not so black and white. Not at all.

That was just one of the many negative, ignorant comments posted on this “recovery group’s” Facebook page. I felt so bad watching these people who are trying to find empowerment through recovery get torn apart by the vicious ignorance of the misinformed. And on a digital platform, no less.

“Our tax dollars shouldn’t go to paying for your methadon.” Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. Ignorant and illiterate. If you can’t spell “methadone” then you shouldn’t have a fighting hand in the argument.

I must give it up to the recovery group and its members, though. They stayed firm in their decree while also taking the higher ground by not going on the attack.

The one thing it made me realize is if this recovery group is getting criticized to this extent, what “challenges” would a support group for the mentally ill face in a small town? My town particularly. Would we be laughed at? Called lazy? Told to suck it up? Probably all those things and then some.

It’s pointless to feel hopeless, though. Some things will never change or will only at a rate so slow I won’t be here to see the repercussions of any of the progress.

Although mental health resources are usually limited everywhere, I’m sure it’s a little different in my town of 2,000 people. There is a “county counselling service”, but good luck getting an appointment or consultation there. The system is more than broken. It’s non-existent in some places.

I don’t have much else to say about this. There is nothing I can say that hasn’t already been said. Mental Health Awareness Month is almost over, and I don’t feel it’s made much difference or was “successful” in any special way. “Awareness” is a relative term, even useless at times. Did we remember to call our support groups together? Did we make T-shirts for everyone, or picket in the streets? Mental Health Awareness Month was just a month wasted on pride for our condition, not a celebration of our endeavors and struggles. Nothing was truly spotlighted except “woo weee…it’s our month.” Every day is Mental Health Awareness Month for me. And for many others reading and stuck in the soup.

I’m trying to be a realist but am recognizing all I do is complain about the ignorance or misgivings of those who don’t understand or agree. And who knows when or if real change will occur. Perspectives and foundational ideologies must change for many and that’s not up to me or any of us. But for the time being I’ll remain here, in the soup.

a day in the life: snapshots & hand-me-downs

“The past beats inside me like a second heart.”

– John Banville

I recently had the luxury of finding an old notebook, one that had been used simply for creative purposes. It was about fifteen years old, but you couldn’t tell by its condition. However, the age of the notebook became more than evident after opening it up. To me, anyway.

Upon looking at the chicken scrawl that was my teen handwriting, and the pages and pages of pretentious writing that were also mine…I had a serious cringe moment. I don’t think of myself as a regular Hemingway, but my immaturity was on full display in those pages. It was also real clear that I had no real insight fifteen years ago. Just based on some of the passages I could stomach reading.

“…of the stiff, suspicious statues –

I stumbled along in agonizing anticipation

The voices were hollow and near

hiding in the plaguing darkness

I stopped –

and took in the sky…”

(2007)

There is absolutely no meaning to that. I had no idea what it meant then, and I still don’t. And I won’t try to pretend to spin it now.

The notebook is full of writing that makes me grimace. But its writing shows a side of me, one that I had yet to even define at that point.

It’s only one of many notebooks I could dig out and have the same feeling over (I have even at times thought about getting all the “old stuff” together in a chronological fashion of some sort, but life hasn’t allowed for that to happen). They’re the notebooks that are the basis for anything I am now.

They include song lyrics:

A worried man’s got his worried mind

And sees with two eyes that have gone blind

I been standing in the back just trying to get her name

When you’re that hard-up for a little fix

You ain’t clean, just a sober addict

You’re a million miles away, and everything’s changed

And poetry:

“I bought a brand-new mirror

and I hung it on the wall

I knelt before it every night

And prayed it wouldn’t fall…”

And then I stumbled upon this last little piece. It’s a poem that, at even twelve years old, I have found some merit in.

The Day I Left

the day I left,

in shackles and hand-me-downs,

the hardest thing –

that once remembered dream of

Passion,

I left the beach

I left, strangled and oblivious,

the curtain of hope decaying,

a penned elegy in my place

she was a sad-eyed mystery,

who was whatever I wanted,

sacred remnant

(left the beach for this?)

Instead of diamonds for sand and the sun for a father,

we have this –

Bombs for beachballs, tanks for cruise ships,

war for fun-in-the-sun

I see it all thru concave,

                  visions of mass deception,          

a summertime loss

this wavy clarity takes away

my security

the truth and enlightenment we need is found

in nuclear warfare,

and in our God,

bomb

Blessed,

I left in sleep

Cursed,

I left her

I push this way,

you pull the other

The day I left.

I found salvation

But not the kind I hoped to find

I found loneliness

I was blessed

on the day that I left

I guess if I had a point in today’s ramblings it would be to be careful what you hold onto and what you throw away. It may be old and it may be immature, but it also might contain the plotline for the next great American novel.

The Perks (or So I’m Told) of Bipolar Disorder

“In the terms of ‘Mental Illness’ isn’t stable a place they put horses that wish to run free?”

– Stanley Victor Paskavich

If you follow my blog regularly, don’t worry if I’ve strayed from my personal journey of positive thinking. I haven’t. But I am wondering if someone’s playing a joke on me. I’m behind the computer as we speak, waiting for someone to jump and shout, “GOTCHA!” Just know I went in with the idea for this post relieved and even a little bit excited. By the time I was done, though, I couldn’t tell if I was baffled, underwhelmed, or downright appalled.

It may seem ignorant (or arrogant, depending on which way you look at it) to suggest that there is any kind of upside to the bipolar condition. I would not be able to see past the question before giving an answer that was less than friendly. Understanding that now does do a lot of good but makes up for very little.

That said, I’ve always had my personal beliefs about any connections between bipolar disorder and intelligence, creativity, etc. They were in no way unbiased, universal, or set in stone. It turns out, though, there is research to suggest that being bipolar doesn’t always have to be all bad.

Many people think genetics is the only factor that plays a role in this disorder’s existence. One study on the matter suggests that “despite the clear contribution of genetics to the etiology of bipolar disorder, little of the genetic architecture is currently understood.”

That same study also found five positive psychological traits dominant in those with bipolar disorder:

· Spirituality

· Empathy

· Creativity

· Realism

· Resilience

These traits “are generally viewed as valuable and beneficial morally or socially.”

I can only speak for myself, but I wouldn’t have guessed those to be the traits amplified in a positive light by bipolar disorder.

One of the psychiatrists who worked on the study, Nassir Ghaemi, is turning some heads with some of his research.

Ghaemi, psychiatrist and author of A First-Rate Madness: Uncovering the Links between Leadership and Mental Illness, has evidence supporting the study’s contentious findings.

“Depression enhances empathy and realism, and the mania enhances creativity and resilience … so when people have bipolar disorder, they have the full gamut of benefits.”

According to Ghaemi, those with bipolar disorder “are better equipped for times of crisis.”

This is playing semantics as far as I’m concerned. I personally don’t find it offensive but would understand why someone else suffering from bipolar disorder might. The word “crisis” is applicable in many different ways and on many different levels. To suggest that someone with bipolar disorder has the “full gamut of benefits” is offensive in general and, even more so, inaccurate.

The idea of resilience being a positive trait of this illness kind of makes sense to me, but the cynic in me can see how that might be offensive to others, as well. It may also be the cynic in me and not the bipolar disorder that makes me think, “Resilience? At what cost?”

Ghaemi said he believes exposure to adversity can provide a kind of “mental vaccine” against future adversity, in turn creating a kind of organic resilience.

“People with bipolar disorder … have traumatic manic or depressed episodes, and then it goes away. They actually recover from these episodes,” he said.

This is a misleading, reckless statement. I’m walking proof that that isn’t a rational assumption. I can only speak for myself, but even when I “come out” of a depressive or manic state I am always reminded that I only have a certain number of tools to work with – and they’re never enough. And they never will be. That’s part of the disorder: When you go into remission, you think you’ll be ready for next time. And then next time comes and you realize too late you were far from ready.

I can’t speak to the sense of spirituality that inflates by the madness; I myself am not a spiritual person so I can’t speak to the idea’s logic or lack thereof. The idea is that someone with bipolar disorder may “rely” on spirituality to help them through. Although this makes sense to me, I still cannot relate.

David Miklowitz, director of the Child and Adolescent Mood Disorders Program at UCLA’s Semel Institute, believes traits such as spirituality, in fact, are worth developing as safeguards.

He says, “for people with bipolar disorder to think about their personal goals for recovery—not taking medication and only taking medication, but are there other things that could be helpful to their long-term quality of life?”

This is true, but we must not lose sight of where, and in what order, our priorities need lie. “Recovery” in the land of mental illness and make-believe doesn’t mean “recovery” in the standard, typical sense here on dry land. For me, recovery is like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow: the idea is fun, but that’s about it. If you’re going to worry about being resilient or creative, you better have the “basic” stuff (like a medication regimen and therapy) MORE than down pat beforehand. Remember, this is war.

But, Miklowitz does note the danger in romanticizing the “mad genius” concept.

“…where we get into trouble … is when it’s implied that bipolar people are more creative than other people and then the logical leap that people make is, ‘Well, if I go off my medications, then I’ll be really creative.’ And that’s when disasters tend to occur.”

It seems like Miklowitz wants to have his cake and eat it, too. He seems to be nailing down the importance of maintaining a healthy lifestyle while at the same time entertaining a hypothesis that, from where I’m sitting, seems a little too unrealistic.

So, what about depression? Does one’s close nature with suffering allow them to tap into a secret vault of empathy? Well, according to the study, kind of.

“I…think that people with bipolar disorder have a unique way of perceiving the world,” Roumen Miley, psychiatrist and clinical director of the Providence Care Mood Disorder Research and Treatment Service, said. “They have increased sensitivity. When people are depressed, they experience the world in a different way. They become more sensitive to the world and to the pain in the world.”

This ideology does make me wonder if I’m a bipolar anomaly in that I disagree. Sure, I see the world through a lens that only I can. And someone with breast cancer sees the world through a lens only they can. It makes me feel like a spectacle. I don’t want to be interesting or knowledgeable in that regard. I don’t want to be “fun” to be around if what I’ve gone through continues to be the price. I’m flattered, but no thanks.

There has been a known correlation between creativity/intelligence and bipolar disorder for decades now, but no one can point to the reason why. It’s been common knowledge for some time that there is an extreme genetic component to the illness, but no one knows anything about which gene that is and why.

I’m not in complete disagreement with some of the conclusions these researchers came to, but I question the unusual directions they followed to reach said destinations.

I’m not offended to a point of irrational defiance, and granted, I know very little about the professional backgrounds of the researchers involved…but their intentions weren’t entirely in the right place.

On another note, the study also puts out the idea that having a “positive cognitive bias” shows people without a mental illness often misjudge both their own capabilities and control. They also tend to interpret events with too much of a positive attitude. So, are people without bipolar disorder different than “us” because they’re too positive and lack a certain kind of control?

The study aside, even the title of Dr. Ghaemi’s book, A First-Rate Madness: Uncovering the Links between Leadership and Mental Illness, makes me wonder about some of the connections made. I’m sure the research is there, but it sounds silly taken at face-value.

A catalyst for Ghaemi’s research, Tom Wootton founded what’s called the Bipolar Advantage in 2003. Its mission is to “focus on learning how to thrive DURING manic and depressive episodes. Those who achieve remission end up in crisis the next time it happens. Those who learn to thrive never have to worry about their next episode again.” I never knew a mission statement could be so irresponsible and potentially dangerous. But, hey, for the right price you can learn to harness delusional mania or that earth-shattering depression to your advantage.

Do I believe that’s possible to a certain extent? Yes, but only to an extent.

It’s the language that scares me. Not everyone’s brain chemistry is going to change by taking some overpriced web seminar.

This illness is like walking through fire. You become stripped down to your most raw, bare form and then you feel. You’ll feel feelings that you could’ve gone your whole life without. Feeling them in a way you know no one else can relate to or tolerate. I’m not special. I already deal with the disorder so don’t belittle me by trying to fit me inside one of your boxes because I’ll get out.

To quote the study, “By gaining a better appreciation for the positive aspects of mental illness and exploring methods to enhance these traits, we may improve clinical outcomes.”

Maybe they’re right. Through all the research maybe they’ve found the way in and cracked the code. But just because we can’t start the book on page one doesn’t mean we have to rewrite the first three chapters. I understand there is no linear approach when researching and treating bipolar disorder, but the conditions in which these conclusions were drawn are unusual and self-serving.

Like I said at the beginning, I approached doing this post with a proud enthusiasm; I was ready to be able to have something of tangible, evidentiary value that there was an upside to my downside. And there is, of course. I’m just not sure Dr. Ghaemi or any other researcher here pointed it out.

“In the storm of crisis, complete sanity can steer us astray, while some insanity brings us to port,” he said.

Needless to say, I won’t ever be getting on a boat with Dr. Ghaemi, proverbial or otherwise.