I know this isn’t the most cheerful topic to write about, but it’s important to me and will also explain why I haven’t contributed anything for a while now.
I deal with Bipolar II. I was originally diagnosed with a “major depressive disorder” back in my late twenties, even though I displayed symptoms going as far back as my teens. It wasn’t until about thirteen years ago that diagnosis was changed to Bipolar II by a new psychiatrist I started seeing after moving to Arizona from California.
Back then, Bipolar II had only recently been identified. The difference between it and Bipolar I is that my periods of mania aren’t as severe. You experience a relatively even keel, although I do feel I have suffered from full blown mania on more than one occasion.
Many great writers have dealt with mental illness, such as Ernest Hemingway and Sylvia Plath. It seems strange citing them as examples, considering their tragic ends. It is widely believed that mental illness enhances creativity. That hasn’t been proven scientifically, but there are so many examples out there that it has been accepted at face value. I have come to see my illness as being the price I pay for my creativity.
It does not help my process. Not at all. I remember someone in a writing group I once belonged to asking if I could somehow “use” my illness in my writing. It doesn’t work like that. If anything, it hinders it greatly. I have no motivation. As much as I enjoy writing, I simply do not have the will to get started.
If anything, getting healthier has improved my writing. Medication keeps me steady, and I have had some wonderful therapists that have come in and out of my life have helped me build some much-needed stability. My most recent therapist, whom I often refer to as my “exorcist,” focused on rewiring my neural pathways, so I can finally escape the negative choices and negative thinking that have dominated my life. He was also the first therapist to recognize that I was dealing with Complex PTSD too. For that, I am forever grateful.
I suppose, over the years, I have felt that my illness could be “cured” and have had some therapists who led me to believe that. However, lately, I have come to grips with the reality that there is no cure. I am going to have to manage my illness my entire life – and that’s okay, since it mostly consists of me taking care better care of myself through diet, exercise, meditation, and positive self-talk, which are things that can benefit anyone. It boils down to the fact that, deep down, I haven’t liked myself very much over the years, and a lot of the self-indulgences I’ve taken part in were actually self-destructive. I want to take better care of myself now because I like myself much better now, and I deserve to treat myself well.
Earlier this year, the depression-side of my illness hit me hard. It’s like a hole opens up in the earth and swallows me whole. I struggle to get out and back to the light, but even the slightest activity takes so much energy out of me. I’m barely able to take care of the basics in life, and other activities like updating my blog or maintaining my social media presence falls by the wayside. Even activities I enjoy, such as volunteering at the Irish Cultural Center or singing with my Celtic choir seem like absolute burdens.
A lot of what caused this current bout had to do with the state of the world we’re currently living in, and the fact that I’m still not able to support myself entirely with my writing. I do everything the “experts” recommend as far as marketing and promotion go but have seen very little in return. I was seriously questioning “why am I doing this?” One day, the truth came to me. I would be miserable if I didn’t write. It’s a part of me. It’s who I am.
It made me recall another severe depressive period I went through about five years ago. The one thing that really saved my life was the story I was working on at that time called Illumina. I haven’t released it yet. It’s pretty experimental, and I’m not sure how it will be received. Either way, it was important to me.
It was another story that saved my life again and dragged me out of this latest period of depression. It’s challenging me in a good way, and I am truly enjoying it. So those of you who are still with me, thank you for hanging in there. Also, for anyone out there who is experiencing depression, mania, or anxiety, do not hold it in. It will not pass on its own, although it may seem like it at times. Above all, do not be ashamed of it!
Seek professional help and hold on to the people in your life who will truly support you in this process. There is no quick cure. No magic pill. It is ongoing. It can be frustrating and challenging at times, but don’t give up, hang in there. I assure you it is worth it.
Thank you,
Dan
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