I’m a freelance writer/editor with bipolar disorder, type 2. For many years, I was diagnosed with unipolar depressions (with anxiety), but the new diagnosis fits me better and my new meds are keeping me much more on the level. I write about mental health issues (obviously), including talk therapy, medication, books, bullying, social aspects, and public policy, but mostly my own experiences.
Sometimes I have bad thoughts. We all do. I find that mine fall into three groups.
The first kind of bad thoughts are when I want to snap or snipe or snark at my husband, despite the fact that he is indispensable to me. He takes care of me, understands me, helps me, hugs me, feeds me in ways I can’t begin to describe.
When those bad thoughts arise, I have a brief internal chat with myself. (It looks like I’m thinking what to say because that’s exactly what I’m doing.) Then I choose not to say the nasty thing or I think of a less-nasty way of saying it. (I’ve written about the phenomenon before in “Managing My Anger” https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-kw.)
The skills involved are impulse control, the use of “I statements,” and the ability to rephrase. I try to say something that will get my point across without hurting or making things worse. These are techniques I have learned over the years, which makes me think they are things that can be developed with a little practice.
Learning to restrain myself has prevented many a fight. Some people find this style of communication inauthentic or wishy-washy – that I am tiptoeing around my husband instead of saying what I really think. All I can say to that is that it works for me and for our marriage.
The next kind of bad thought is the kind that comes with depression: I’m useless. I’m pathetic. I can’t do anything right. I’m worthless. Jenny Lawson (aka The Bloggess) talks about these thoughts in her book Furiously Happy, and she has one thing to say about them: Depression lies. These are the thoughts of a biochemically influenced brain that makes you miserable and sometimes wants to kill you, or at least kill your possibility of happiness.
Fortunately, my husband has read Jenny Lawson too. When I express these bad self-thoughts – and it’s best if you have a safe person to tell them to – he reminds me. He doesn’t try to deny the thoughts (You know you’re not worthless. You do lots of things right). He tells me, “That’s depression lying to you.” I used to get stuck in these cycles a lot before I was properly medicated and before I had his help and that of my therapist.
Then there are the really bad thoughts, those of self-harm or worse. Most of the time I don’t have these anymore, but when I do, there is one thing I can do. (Actually, there are more things I can do, but this is one that works for me.) I look at my tattoos.
The one on the right wrist is a symbol for bipolar disorder made up of punctuation : ) : in the form of a smiley face/frowny face. This reminds me that my brain isn’t working right and is sometimes out to get me.
The other is on my left wrist, near my scars from self-harm. It is a semicolon. You may have heard about the Semicolon Project or seen the semicolon symbol on t-shirts or jewelry.
The semicolon is my favorite punctuation mark. It comes at the place in a sentence where a writer could choose to put a period and stop; instead, she continues the sentence. The semicolon says, “My story isn’t over,” something you’ll also see on t-shirts and such. (I’m thinking of making that sentence my third tattoo.)
Recently I had a bout of those really bad thoughts. But I looked at my tattoos and told myself, “My story isn’t over yet. I still have things I need to do.” One of them is to tell my story, in this blog and in a book I’m trying to write.
My tattoos helped me get over the bad thoughts. They have paid for themselves many times over. I never regret getting them. They may have saved my life.
From what I’ve read in Facebook support groups – and noticed from my own experience – the effects of antidepressants don’t always last as long as we might want.
My first psychotropic medication was, as nearly as I can remember, imipramine (Tofranil). At the time I was only diagnosed with unipolar depression, so it seemed like a good choice. Imipramine is what is called a “tricyclic” antidepressant because of its chemical structure. Many people complained of the side effects.
Tricyclics were about all the medical community had to offer until 1987, when Prozac hit the market, followed by its cousins Zoloft and Paxil. All of these were classified as SSRI drugs, ones that selectively acted on the neurochemical serotonin in the brain, rather than a wide variety of brain chemicals as the tricyclics had.
Since then we have listened to Prozac, talked back to Prozac, and been referred to as a Prozac Nation. Prozac has been hailed as a miracle drug, damned as a gateway to violence or suicide, and prescribed in phenomenal amounts.
And Prozac has helped me. After about six weeks on it, when the drug started to kick in, I was on a sailing trip. One of the crew said I was the passenger most at peace with myself that he knew. It was a revelation to me and a new way of thinking of myself.
Prozac changed my life – possibly saved it. And then, not so much. I moved on to other medications.
“Major Study Finds Antidepressants Work, But May Have Limitations,” by Brigit Katz, published on The Smithsonian.com, validates my perception.
Her article states, “A meta-analysis [or study of studies] of existing trials suggests that the drugs are mostly effective on a short-term basis for patients suffering from acute depression.” Katz’s article also cites articles in the New York Times and The Lancet that report similar findings.
The Lancet study “analyzed 522 double-blind studies that included 116,477 patients and 21 commonly prescribed antidepressants. The results of the study showed that all 21 of the antidepressants were more effective than placebos in reducing depressive symptoms during the first eight weeks of treatment.”
“The new analysis suggests, however, that the efficacy of the drugs may be limited,” Katz reports. “For one thing, the benefits applied in the short term, and only to patients who are suffering from acute major depression.” [emphasis added]
The Smithsonian.com article and the studies conclude that “while the new study suggests that antidepressants are more effective than a placebo, at least in some cases, media reports claiming [as an article in Newsweek did] that the research shows ‘antidepressants do work, and many more people should take them’ are not entirely accurate.”
(This hearkens back to a pet peeve of mine: that headline writers (who are almost never the authors of the articles) do a poor job of summarizing articles in favor of more definitive or appealing descriptions of the text. https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-Br)
At any rate, the meta-analysis bears out my experience. Although I was bipolar 2, my disorder first manifested as major depression. I got relief from Prozac, results that later diminished. Since my proper diagnosis I have found more relief from a combination of an SSRI, an anticonvulsant medication often used for bipolar disorder, and an atypical antipsychotic also useful for bipolar as well as schizophrenia. Even though I do not have seizures or schizophrenia, these medications work for me and have not worn off for several years now.
So, what’s the takeaway from all this? I think it is that, if your medication for bipolar or depression seems to be “wearing off,” your perception may indeed be valid. But that’s no reason to give up on psychotropics altogether. People and their disorders differ in ways we just don’t know. You can ask your doctor to try a different medication or combination of medications that may work better for you.
The benefits of medication for psychiatric disorders do not simply go away just because the effect of one does.
There’s been a lot of talk lately that not allowing the mentally ill to own guns would curb the trend of gun violence in the U.S. There are just a few things wrong with that theory.
Are background checks the answer? They aren’t. Such checks at certified gun dealers screen out only the very few who have been hospitalized for mental illness – involuntarily committed, that is, not just referred for a 72-hour hold for observation or self-referred. That’s only a very small portion of those with mental illnesses. Most people with mental disorders are never hospitalized and some never receive any diagnosis or treatment from a psychiatrist, psychologist, or another counselor, which means that background checks would never turn them up. And there are loopholes in many states’ versions of background checks that, for example, allow private sales of guns without them.
To take this to the next level of absurdity, it would be a severe breach of confidentiality if therapists had to report every client to a database somewhere, just in case, and would lead to fewer people being treated for mental health issues, for fear of being put on a registry that might be used for any purpose eventually, even employment. Gun owners don’t want to be on a nebulous registry “somewhere,” and neither do the mentally ill.
Can psychiatrists and other counselors report to the authorities clients they fear may become violent? Again, laws differ from state to state. Usually, the question comes up only when a client makes specific threats against a specific person or a government official. The therapist must make a judgment about whether the client is a danger to self and others, which could result in a 72-hour hold, and may of course be correct or incorrect. A client with generalized anger issues is probably not mandated to be reported.
And to whom and for what purpose would the person be reported? To the police, when no crime has been committed? Is a therapist’s report of a client’s report of feeling angry enough to shoot “someone” sufficient to justify a search warrant of the person’s house for a legally owned firearm?
Are mentally ill people more likely to be violent than other people? No. In fact, mentally ill people are much more likely to be the victims of violence than they are to be perpetrators. But no matter how many times we say that, few listen or believe it. Some mentally ill people turn violence – and guns –against themselves. Some are killed by police officers with no training in handling confrontations with differently abled people, including the mentally disordered.
Not only are mentally ill people more likely to be accused of violence, violent people are more likely to be accused of being mentally ill. That’s practically the first thing anyone says after a mass shooting – “Oh, he must be crazy” (or on psychotropic medications). Of course, with one in four adults being likely to experience some form of mental distress in their lifetimes, it is possible that a shooter is one of those people.
But newscasters and politicians and people on the street are, by and large, not psychiatrists or psychologists. They are no more able to diagnose mental illness than burger-flippers, dairy farmers, lawyers, or business executives. Not that that stops them. Mental diagnoses are flung about indiscriminately nowadays, from people who call themselves OCD because they straighten pictures to psychiatrists who claim to diagnose public figures without having spoken to them once, much less having developed a therapeutic relationship with them.
But can’t potential violence be predicted? No. It can’t. The prison system can’t do it, or there wouldn’t be so many parolees and probationers and those who have served their time who go right back to crime and violence. Mandatory sentencing laws and the political climate have reduced the problem in some areas, but there are still plenty of cases in which the system fails. At trials and parole hearings and sentencing hearings, there is always someone – doctor or lawyer or family member – to say that the offender will not offend again.
But the only known predictor of violence is past violence. That’s why some people think it’s more sensible to restrict the gun ownership rights of domestic abusers rather than someone mentally ill who has no record of violence.
Can’t mentally ill people who’ve proven to be violent be required not to own guns? Theoretically yes, but we know how well it works to tell people on probation who have no record of mental illness that they can’t own guns, drink liquor, or associate with known criminals. The probation system is too understaffed to enforce these requirements already. Who would be willing – or should have the responsibility – to check up on everyone, even the small proportion of the mentally ill who have been involuntarily committed or convicted and then released, and make sure they don’t acquire any guns? If the parole and probation people can’t handle the caseload they already have, why would we think that mental health professionals have any more time, capacity, training, or know-how to do it?
Would banning guns prevent gun violence by the mentally ill? In a word, no. There are already too many guns in circulation in this country for that to be possible, and those guns are too easy to get. And again, there would still be the problems of determining who is mentally ill, by whose definition, and how such a gun ban could be enforced.
So, I hear you asking, you’ve told us all the things that won’t work. Is there anything that will?
Not if you think that the problem of gun violence and the problem of treating the mentally ill overlap. Gun violence is one topic and the mental health system is another. There is a lot that can be said about fixing one or the other, but nothing that would solve both at once.
Not that a lot is being done now, unless you count blaming, finger-pointing, and spreading stigma.
Last week I blogged about “Running Away From Home” (aka the geographical cure) https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-F9. This week I want to talk about actual travel – for business or pleasure. Travel was one of my greatest joys and one of the things I’ve missed most since bipolar stole so many parts of my life. I am delighted to be able to say that I am beginning to reclaim it.
I know that many people aren’t able to travel at all because of their bipolar disorder, but for those who can, here are some tips to make it easier.
The basic thing to remember while traveling is this: self-care. You may find it hard to do while on the road, but it is essential to keeping yourself functional. Just give yourself permission to do the things you have to do. And find ways to avoid the things that trigger you.
Business travel is the most difficult, and something I’m no longer able to do at all. Oh, I can drive an hour for a half-day training session, but I want to be back in my own house and bed when it’s over with. But the kind I used to do – four to seven days, with coworkers (sometimes in shared hotel rooms), and especially with booth duty – are simply beyond me. There’s no time or space for self-care.
If you must travel on business, however, I recommend bringing along a comfort object (https://wp.me/p4e9wS-k9) such as a small plush animal, a favorite pillow, or toiletries that have a soothing scent like lavender. Fuzzy slippers may have to do as a comfort object if you have to share a room. It’s also a good idea to bring along portable snacks such as nuts or raisins in your purse or briefcase, as regular meal schedules are often thrown off by meetings and other events.
“Me” time is hard to arrange, but do try. One trick that works for me is to find an unused function space and sit there with a pad of notepaper. Zone out. Then if anyone comes looking for you, claim you were just consolidating your notes.
Avoiding arguments is one of the particular challenges of visiting relatives – particularly in-laws.
On one of the first visits I made to my in-laws’ house, I noticed that they shouted a lot. When that happened, I would go into the kitchen and make myself a cup of tea. That’s a strategy I have often used. It’s also a grounding method I can use when things are spinning out of control. When everything around me is chaos, the simple, familiar, soothing action of heating a pan of soup or a teakettle can bring me closer to stability. Whether I really want soup or tea is not the question.
My husband noticed that I kept skipping out to the kitchen and asked why I kept making tea. “Because you’re all shouting at each other,” I replied.
“No, we’re not,” he said.
“Listen to yourselves.”
Just then an argument broke out over where to go to get some sandwiches. “You take the 422 to Souderton, then turn…” “Nah, you follow Cowpath Road then cut over to the 309. That’s shorter.” “But there’s more stoplights!” With each comment, the volume grew. Dan and I went out and got the sandwiches and when we got back, the family members were still arguing about the best way to go. Dan had to admit that I had a point. He just couldn’t hear it until I shifted his perspective.
Another technique you may find helpful when hit with nosy questions from relatives is the “Boring Baroque Response,” described here – https://wp.me/p4e9wS-cY.
My friend Robbin says that when you travel, the only things you really need to have in your carry-on are your meds and some clean underwear. Anything else you can buy when you get there if your luggage doesn’t manage to arrive when you do. It’s also good to talk to your pharmacist beforehand and make sure you have enough meds for the scheduled length of the trip. (Do not do what I did and take your entire supply of meds and then leave them at the bed-and-breakfast.)
Once I went to DisneyWorld https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-2K. (Okay, twice, but the first time was epic.) Surviving it was an exercise in self-care. The things I learned there are applicable to almost any travel situation.
It helps if you go with a person or people who understand your disorder and your needs. When you’ve exhausted yourself, it’s good to have someone who can think of options – “Of course, we can go back to the hotel now, if you want, or we could sit in this café and have a cold beverage while you rest your feet for a while.”
The point is, you don’t have to go on what a friend calls the Bataan Fun March – you don’t have to ride every ride, see every scenic overlook, visit every church or castle. Give yourself permission to take a nap or read a book or lounge around the pool, if that’s what you need to do. (If you’re on a guided tour and want to skip an event, let the tour guide know, so the head count doesn’t come out wrong after an event or stop.)
Finances tend to prevent the kind of leisure travel I used to do, but at least now if I can ever afford it, I can also survive it.
When I was a teenager, I lived in Ohio, and all I wanted to do was leave. The suburb I lived in was homogenous and boring. The surrounding area had little to interest me. I was miserable. When it came time to select a college, the first thing I ruled out was anything in the state of Ohio.
It did not occur to me then that the reason I was miserable was not the state of Ohio, but bipolar disorder. And of course I took that with me to college.
When I returned to Ohio and began living in a suburb very near the one I grew up in, my friends were astonished. “I thought you hated Ohio,” they said. “I never expected you’d come back here to live.”
What I had been seeking was a “geographical cure” for a problem I didn’t know I had. I thought could outdistance it, outrun it, make a new life for myself somewhere better.
Believe me, it’s not possible; unless you are trying to leave an abusive relationship, moving somewhere else will do nothing for your underlying problem. Probably not even then.
The next time I had a chance to take the geographical cure – to move to Pennsylvania – I turned it down. I had by that time built up a support system in Ohio of family, friends, and doctors, and I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving them and trying to build a new support system in an unfamiliar place. (Eventually, my husband-to-be moved from Pennsylvania to Ohio, where we’ve lived ever since.)
But there are still times when I think about running away from this life. Often, I wish the Mothership would arrive and take me away to some interesting planet or galaxy.
But sometimes, when life just seems to be too much for me, I think of simplifying my life by starting over somewhere. It would be like being in the Witness Protection Plan, I always imagine. I’d live in a small, unimposing town somewhere. I would have a bookstore (maybe used books). I would live in a small apartment over the shop with one or two cats.
But alas, that wouldn’t work. Aside from the difficulties of moving, which I loathe, I would find myself in another place where I had no support system – no doctor to prescribe meds, no therapist to continue my progress with (I hate breaking in new doctors), no family or friends or husband. (I usually picture myself on my own, except for the cats.)
And life would be just as difficult, if on a smaller scale. I would still have days when I couldn’t get out of bed and open the store; weeks when I couldn’t bring myself to shower, driving away customers; times when the loneliness would become overwhelming. I would still have trouble with finances, health, isolation, shopping, business, et endless cetera. At least I would have a lot of books to read.
I would still have bipolar disorder. I might be able to replace some of what I would have to give up; it wouldn’t be easy or freeing. But sometimes I still like to imagine that it would be.
If my husband dies before I do, I may find myself in some form of such a solitary life and have to adjust to it, though I would most likely remain in my comfortable suburb, where I know a few people and have some great friends, and a psychiatrist and a therapist. I doubt I would again attempt a geographical cure unless forced by circumstances to relocate.
But I wouldn’t enjoy it, just as I wouldn’t really if I ran away from home now. The bipolar would just come with me, hopping into my suitcase before I even packed my underwear.
Recently, when I was reading Every Patient Tells a Story: Medical Mysteries and the Art of Diagnosis by Lisa Sanders, I came across this:
Eric Cassell, a physician who writes frequently about the moral dimensions of medicine, argues, in a now classic paper, that pain and suffering are very different. Pain, according to Cassell, is an affliction of the body. Suffering is an affliction of the self. Suffering, writes Cassell, is a specific state of distress that occurs when the intactness or integrity of the person is threatened or disrupted.
Later, when I was reading M Is for Malice, by Sue Grafton, I read this: “Pain was better than anxiety any day of the week and sweat was better than depression.”
The universe seemed to be telling me to focus my attention on pain and/or suffering.
Cassell (as quoted by Sanders), could have been (but probably wasn’t) talking about bipolar disorder when he defined suffering as “a specific state of distress that occurs when the intactness or integrity of the person is threatened or disrupted.” I certainly don’t feel intact or integrated while in the midst of a bipolar episode – either hypomanic or depressive. I suffer. My personhood is certainly threatened and disrupted.
It’s common to hear bipolar described this way: “I suffer from bipolar disorder.” I prefer to say “I live with bipolar disorder,” which I feel is more accurate. It’s always there, but I’m not always suffering. I live with it and it lives with me.
I think Cassell was wrong, though, about pain being a purely bodily sensation. I addressed the concept back in the early days of this blog. with a post called “Depression Hurts” (https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-6Z). In it I claimed that bipolar (or depression specifically) caused physical pain as well as emotional pain. I still maintain that one is as valid as the other and that they are virtually inseparable. The mind and the body not being entirely separate, or separable, you see. You get both for the price of one.
Grafton, on the other hand, through her character Kinsey Millhone, was talking about the physical act of running. We all know by now (or should) that exercise is recommended for those who have bipolar disorder or other mental/emotional conditions. But again, there is this idea that physical discomforts (pain and sweat) are better than emotional distress (anxiety and depression). She seems to be saying that pain is the antidote for suffering.
This can be dangerous territory. As someone who used to self-harm, I can easily see how one might think that pain is preferable to anxiety, or numbness, or dissociation – to suffering, that is. But in such cases, pain is really just another aspect of suffering, expressed in bodily terms. Again, the two are inextricably intertwined.
Personally, I would be delighted to avoid all four sensations – pain, anxiety, sweat, and depression. But I don’t think that’s possible, even with avoiding both exercise and self-harm. Sweat is the easiest to dispense with, thanks to modern toiletries, but there have been plenty of times when my anxiety has caused me to sweat. Think about being summoned to a tax audit, for instance, and you’ll see what I mean. Pain is unavoidable; no one goes through life without stepping on a nail or some such. Anxiety and depression occur at least occasionally in the neurotypical as well as the mentally disordered.
The human condition itself involves feeling both pain and suffering. Bipolar disorder involves both pain and suffering. Well, what do you know? We’re only human, after all.
As I’ve mentioned before (even on my other blog https://wp.me/p4e9wS-zY), I’m running low on money and clients in my freelancing business. Therefore, I’ve taken up searching job ads online for part-time, work-from-home gigs. (So far, Indeed is the only service that has presented me with reasonable options. I sometimes apply for as many as three a day.)
It’s filling out the applications that has me stumped. Oh, I’ve got a fine resume – one on Indeed and another file I can send to jobs not listed with Indeed. I can write a decent cover letter. If there are editing or writing tests, I can handle them too. I have way more education and experience than I need, but I explain in the cover letter that part-time, contract, or freelance work is what I really want at this time in my life.
Then come the other questions that many ask.
Am I a veteran? No.
Am I a U.S. citizen or do I have the necessary documents to work in the U.S.? Yes.
Is English my first language? Yes.
Am I male or female? Yes.
What race do I identify with? Yes.
(Those aren’t really yes/no questions and are usually marked as optional, but I answer them anyway.)
Then comes the real stumper. Am I disabled? Well, that depends.
Most of the application forms state that they abide by EEOC regulations. Some of them even have a handy list of what are considered disabling conditions – and bipolar is one.
So. Do I take them at their word and believe that they do abide by EEOC regulations, in which case I can reveal my bipolar condition without penalty. In fact, if the company is trying to prove to someone that they are abiding by those regulations, the answer is probably yes, I should.
But we all know that such questions, while well-meaning on the surface, may actually be used to screen out disabled candidates. So perhaps I should answer no.
The deal with the regulations is that employers must offer “reasonable accommodations” to let disabled employees do their jobs, unless the accommodations for that condition are not feasible because of expense or other reasons.
So, as a person with bipolar disorder, what actual accommodations would I need?
The main ones I would need are the ability to work remotely, from home, and to have flex time. Those cost an employer nothing, usually.
And those are precisely the kinds of jobs I am applying for – work-remotely jobs in which you can make your own hours, or at least partially.
So when it comes to “The Question,” I have been answering “yes.” For the purposes of work, I am at least partially disabled by my bipolar condition. I cannot work full time. I have trouble working in a bustling office with lots of people around. I need flex-time to work around my symptoms. (I can still meet deadlines, though.)
Funny, but the forms don’t have spaces or yes/no questions on those subjects.
I have considered the idea that I am doing this all wrong. That I should not disclose my bipolar disorder until I have the job (and for those who don’t ask the question, that’s what I’ll have to do). That after I have the job is when I should discuss accommodations.
But dammit, all evidence to the contrary, I am a cock-eyed optimist. Those EEOC rules are there for a reason and I am that reason. I know that when most employers think “disability,” they think “wheelchair” or “impaired hearing.” But there it is, listed right among the possible disabling conditions – bipolar.
So far I’ve gotten a few form rejection letters and mostly a resounding silence. And in the meantime I’ve been scrambling for other clients and other assignments.
But I hope the day will come when just one of my potential employers means what it says about disabilities.
Last week I dissed a story that I read online about self-care for bipolar disorder, which consisted of praise for sleep, pets, and creativity, things which anyone with bipolar already knows are good for their mental health.
It was pointed out to me by someone who should know that I was wrong to make fun of the researchers, since they were students learning valuable lessons about how to conduct research studies in the first place. Which led me to believe that it was all the reporter’s fault for presenting their results as news.
Anyway, as an apology to researchers and grad students everywhere, I’m now going to praise a research study that would otherwise get a “well, duh” from me.
Huffington Post (UK) shared the good news:
Knitting could save the NHS [National Health Service] vital funds because it leads to a healthier population, reducing depression and anxiety, slowing the onset of dementia and distracting from chronic pain, a new report has found.
The study was primarily focused on the benefits of knitting for the aging, but since depression and anxiety were two of the conditions that it reportedly relieves, I thought it might be relevant to bipolar disorder too. Now someone can do a study to confirm or deny this idea.
The report added that knitting “is a sociable activity that helps overcome isolation and loneliness, too often a feature of old age,” and, I might note, of mental illness.
There are many, many articles that extol the benefits of creative pursuits for those with bipolar disorder and other mental illnesses. Although the notion of “basket-weaving” is outmoded and stigmatizing, other creative activities are commonly suggested as part of self-care. (I discussed this in a post called “Tools for Tackling Bipolar Disorder.”)
Coloring seems to be the most popular recent trend, but drawing, painting, collages, and all sorts of needlework are well thought of too. (I would certainly put crocheting in the same category as knitting.)
But then there’s the other side of bipolar – mania. I don’t know a lot about creativity and mania because I only get hypomania. But I do know that when I’m hypomanic I can get a lot of writing done. (Whether it’s good writing is another question.)
However, if you’ll forgive anecdotal evidence, I once knew a woman who did experience full-blown mania as part of her disorder and was not well controlled on medication. One year at Christmas she decided to make green velvet dresses for all three of her daughters.
As she spoke of her progress over the ensuing weeks, however, it was clear that the project was not going well. She kept rethinking – and redoing – all the sewing. She didn’t like the design, or she didn’t think they’d fit right, or she saw some other flaw. She never finished the dresses.
Other people may have better experiences with mania and creativity, of course. I hope you’ll share with me if you have.
The idea of creativity as a way to be sociable intrigues me. Sewing circles are a time-honored tradition among neurotypical people as well as those with mental disorders. (A friend of mine and her cronies had what they called the “Stitch and Bitch Club.”) Needlepoint, quilting, and indeed all of the fabric arts can be group activities.
For those who aren’t into those kinds of needle-centric activities, there are classes in scrapbooking, drawing, painting, ceramics, sculpture, or other creative art forms, often available through local adult education programs, museums, or shops that sell arts and crafts supplies. And of course, writers’ groups abound at bookstores and other venues (though presenting one’s own work at such a gathering may be too daunting for some with self-esteem issues).
I should probably get involved with a writer’s group myself. I’ve had to give up needlework because of my eyesight and shaking hands. But I’m all for doing something for my brain. Lord knows, it needs all the help it can get.
Sleep, pets, and photography – everything in one bundle
This is not exactly news, but the headline (“Sleep and time with pets help people living with bipolar disorder”) reflected my life so perfectly that I had to read on.
It turns out that the research involved only 80 subjects and was conducted by Edward Wynter, an honors student, who says he hopes “that knowledge of effective strategies can inspire proactive therapeutic engagement and empower people living with bipolar disorder to improve their health and wellbeing.”
And here’s the money quote:
This research reveals support for strategies already well known to professionals and people living with bipolar disorder, including those relating to quality and quantity of sleep, and drug and alcohol abstinence; but this study also highlights the effectiveness of several strategies yet to be explored such as spending time with pets and engaging in creative pursuits. (emphasis added)
Here’s some news, Mr. Wynter: Spending time with pets and engaging in creative pursuits are not “yet to be explored,” except perhaps by researchers. As he himself notes, professionals and people with bipolar disorder already know these concepts. I wonder what sort of grade this research gained him?
I’ve written about pets and creative pursuits myself. Service dogs for the mentally ill, for example (https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-nN):
Emotional Support Animals are dogs or cats (or, less commonly, other animals such as miniature horses or guinea pigs) that live with and provide comfort to a person with a psychiatric disorder, [t]ypically … one that qualifies as a disability under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA).
And even everyday pets can help (https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-jS). As I said of my very first cat: “We needed each other. I needed someone to care about, to focus my attention outward on. She needed someone to draw her out of her shell, to care for and about her.”
Coloring books and pages for adults have been the trend for a while now. (Some of them are really for adults.) Jenny Lawson draws and also puts together tiny little Ferris wheels. I know someone who can make little sculptures out of drink stirrers or paper clips. The point is … [j]ust keeping your brain and your hands occupied is a good idea.
As for sleep, we all know that proper rest is a good thing, even if we’re not always able to achieve it. And I’ve written about that too (https://wp.me/p4e9Hv-vk):
Whether you sleep too much or not enough, bipolar disorder may be the cause. There are treatments, some involving meds, and others not. Meditation, for example, helps many people sleep … It’s a thing to discuss with your psychiatrist and/or your psychotherapist.
If I, a non-professional, already know about these aspects of treatment for bipolar that don’t involve therapy or medication (though I’m not knocking either one), why is research covering this old ground? Surely even lowly grad students can think of better, more productive topics than this.
Mass shootings and the public reactions to them are pretty predictable among the mental illness community.
One thing you hear after every mass shooting – and after many smaller ones – is that the mentally ill should not have access to guns.
Fine. But I have bipolar disorder, as well as some guns that I inherited from my father. I occasionally go to a gun range and fire them, but not often since I’m not the gun aficionado my father was.
So what am I supposed to do? Sell the guns? Give them away? Turn them in to the police? My therapist? I was taught gun safety from a young age by two certified pistol and rifle instructors (my parents) long before I received my diagnosis.
The further you go into the debate about guns and the mentally ill, or about whether the mentally ill are a danger, the deeper you get into fundamental constitutional, legal, and medical issues, as well as considerations of simple practicality.
Some advocate locking up the mentally ill. This is irrational. What the proponents really mean is “Lock up the dangerous mentally ill before they become mass shooters.” And that is impossible.
First, there’s the matter of due process, which is as much a part of the Bill of Rights as the vaunted Second Amendment is. You can’t just lock people up without a trial or at least a hearing.
Second, there’s no way to determine whether a mentally ill person is likely to become a mass shooter or any other kind of danger. The only generally known predictor of violent behavior is past violent behavior. In fact, there’s no way to tell whether any given individual is going to become a mass shooter. That’s because it’s really hard to predict the future.
Third, there’s the consideration of medical decisions and the right to privacy. HIPPAA has gone a long way toward protecting the privacy of patients – including the mentally ill. At the moment, a mentally ill person can only be held for 72 hrs., and then only if the person goes to the hospital voluntarily or is determined to be a danger to self and others. That’s a high standard, and it should be.
Fourth, the mental health system is already understaffed, underfunded, and overwhelmed. There are long waiting lists for beds in hospitals and treatment facilities. Are we to build new asylums to accommodate all these supposedly dangerous persons? Train more counselors to treat them? Or just lock them up and get them out of sight, out of mind?
Fifth, the idea that mentally ill persons can be forced to accept treatment and take their medication as prescribed violates several basic rights. My mother, who was not mentally ill, hardly ever took her medications as prescribed. She would quit taking one after a few days “because it wasn’t helping” or “it caused sores in her mouth” – without telling her doctor. Should she have had a caregiver to monitor her compliance? Who would monitor all those potentially noncompliant mentally ill persons as they take their psychotropic drugs? I see, we’re back to putting them in asylums.
Besides, refusing treatment is a right that patients have – even mental patients. Physically ill patients, for example, can choose to forgo chemotherapy or dialysis or medications that cause side effects worse than the condition they’re prescribed for. And mental patients have the same right. They can stop taking a medication because they fear side effects like tardive dyskinesia or even weight gain, though we hope they consult their doctors first.
But forced treatment and forced medication, as some have suggested, brings us back to the question of who, how, and where. Asylums? Court-ordered treatment? Medications that must be taken in the presence of a doctor or a therapist (who is not qualified or licensed to dispense medication)?
Take all those arguments against forced treatment of the mentally ill and add the fact that the mentally ill are far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators of it, and where are we? Admittedly, the mental health “system” is broken, or at least badly fractured. But is the answer really to take away the civil rights of people who have broken no laws?
The press and the public are quick to focus on the mentally ill as the culprits in mass shootings. But even if they were correct, taking away fundamental rights would not only be no real solution, but would chip away at the rights of other disenfranchised or minority populations – the homeless, for example.
If there’s a solution to this problem, I don’t know it, but locking up the “crazies” isn’t it.