At my counselor’s the other day, my wife and I were going over how life has been for us lately. We described our time as I’ve been coming out of my latest depressive cycle and entering into my manic time. Our counselor’s ears perked to increased attention. Apparently the words “manic” and “depression” when used so close together are magical words which signal the need for further exploration (not just one of my favorite Jimi Hendrix songs).
As a part of life with a writer, we’d rather gotten used to the cycle. Bipolar Disorder runs in both of our family lines. We’ve both lived with a bipolar parent and that condition plays out in a variety of different ways. Thing is, I straddle a weird nexus with this as being unhealthy mentally is embraced in the artistic community (we LOVE the image of the eccentric writer), a source of embarrassment in the black community, and something to be ashamed of in the church** community.
It’s not the first time the notion of “getting medicated” has come up in my life. It took me a long time to drop the resistance to going to a counselor, but I still hesitate at the possibility of being medicated. I’m lumping this under the category “fear of getting fixed”:
1. “Novelists are damaged people, and writing is how they repair their psyches.” ~ David Morrell. That quote holds a lot of truth to many writers. I’ve always had this quiet notion (lie) that I’d never be a great writer because I wasn’t cracked enough in the head, one of those mad geniuses. Maybe it’s part of the romanticized ideas of what it means to be a writer, but I’ve always lived with my demons, letting them play out on the page. And I’ve thought that “getting fixed” would lead to the ruin of the stories I write. Here’s the analogy I’ve used: the best comedians work from a place of pain. What happens to their comedy when they have found some measure of healing?
2. Drugged out zombie. Now I’ve not been one to take drugs of any sort in the first place. I think our culture is quick on the trigger to medicate itself as is. That being said, I’ve been doubly scared that drugs that would “stabilize” me would also hinder my creativity. My big fear is that my mind would function as if it was moving through mud, and I’d be unable to string two thoughts together.
All of this angst-ridden noodling is done under the long shadow of how some in the church community tend to approach issues of mental health.**** Far too many times, any sort of mental issue, for example, depression, is met with an attitude that the sufferer demonstrates a lack of faith or has some other sort of failing in their spiritual walk. The “treatment” as it were amounts to reading the Bible and praying. Diseases of the mind somehow can’t be treated on a physical basis, as opposed to a toothache or having cancer.
Spiritually speaking, the problems should be confronted on three fronts: as a spiritual problem, an emotional problem, and a biological problem (spirit, mind/heart, and body). It’s like whenever we deal with the issues of mental health, we only address one area when all three have to be addressed to find wholeness. For example, as a thought experiment, think of how a past wound done to us can turn into unforgiveness and bitterness thus becoming a spiritual stronghold in your body. Who knows how this might throw off your brain chemistry. Don’t get me wrong, this is an oversimplification of things, but hopefully you see where I’m going with that.
This is me just getting mentally prepared for taking the assessment. We’re not there yet, and I’m a long way from having a “label” to deal with (and even then, that label wouldn’t be my identity, just part of who I am). It’s just what I’m thinking about. There is wholeness to be had. God created me as a creative person and I will continue to create. I will always have stories to tell.
*I almost went with “I’m Not Crazy, I’m a Christian”, but I think I’ll save that for a different kind of blog post.
**I’m defining “church” as American Evangelicals, as that’s been the majority of my experience. I’d worry about offending them, but the “take two verses and call me in the morning” crowd doesn’t read me.
***I could say the same for hip hop artists who have their muse in the cauldron of pain and poverty of their life on the streets … and then what happens to them once they’ve made it big and gotten rich.
****When I wrote my blog Male Pattern Depression, I was deluged with e-mails from guys who felt like this was something they couldn’t talk about this publicly. I was fascinated by some of the discussion on my Facebook page leading up to me writing this blog post.
***
Mo*Con VIII: The Mind and Spirit of the Artist
May 3 – 5, 2013. Indianapolis, IN
Previous Guest Blogs:
For what it’ worth, I have my own experience being creative and ‘crazy’. I mean, it’s not like I have anything noticeable published, but I’ve written fiction since I was six and it’s always how I’ve defined myself.
I’ve never been a particularly spiritual person, so I’ve never had the fear of censor from that side of things. But the fear of losing my ‘creativity’ and the fear of medication I have most definitely gone though. I’ll tell you what I’ve learned about six years after CBT therapy and anti-depressants:
1) Being able to cope with life, being in control, has actually made it far, far easier to be creative. This whole, ‘you have to be damaged to be creative’ narrative is horrible and pervasive. Writing before the therapy was like blindly groping around under water. After, it’s like being in the fresh air on a beautiful day. My depression wasn’t part of my creativity, it was a leech sucking away at it.
2) There’s nothing wrong with taking medication. If you’ve got a physical illness, do you avoid medicating it? I mean, if you’re ill you’d take anti-biotics, right? Because there’s some kind of virus or infection or physical deficiency you need to correct. Exactly the same with medication for mental conditions. There’s something physically wrong with your body (lack of serotonin in my case), and taking medication for it is no different from taking insulin.
As for the church, I don’t know about the community and their attitudes, but I found going through the whole treatment thing very, very hard. And it’s never a fight that goes away–it’s always a battle I’m going to have to fight (although the CBT has given me far, far better weapons I could ever have hoped for). Emotional and spiritual support is hugely important. There’s days when you’ve got nothing left to draw on and still need to fight, and there’s days when you realise you’re going through all this and no one cares–not out of malice, but the only real reward is being able to cope with life better. No congratulations, no gold star. And, if you’re really winning the fight, the reward you get is no one knows you’re fighting. I should imagine having God on your side, having Him to turn to, to draw from, to fight for would be a huge help.
Anyway, thanks for reading this mega-comment.
And being diagnosed is no bad thing. It’s not being sealed in a pine pigeon hole where people can look down on you. It just means the people with the tools to help know what tools to give you. Just like being diagnosed with a broken leg.
I’m glad you’re talking about this! I want to preface my reply with my history and experience in a nutshell. Both sides of my family have long histories of depression and bipolar. I was assessed at one time in life, many, many years ago. At that time, I refused treatment because in my heart I knew that I was going through a lot at once and I didn’t feel out of control, I felt like I needed a variety of tools in my toolbox to help me build a strong foundation of healthy emotional responses to life’s problems. It took decades of peering into my past and filtering everything through the lens of eternity, through God’s eyes, but I feel like today, I can say with confidence that God has redeemed those things in my life that held me in fear.
With that said, (if you would) have some conversations with God about how fearfully and wonderfully made you are. It doesn’t matter what any man on this planet says about your level of creativity, the only opinion that matters is that of the Creator’s.
And in line with that, have you heard of a genogram? I wrote about my toxic family http://michellependergrass.com/2011/01/toxic-family/ and a bit of what I’ve learned. There’s this Old Testament verse (you might recognize it)
You shall not bow down yourself to [other gods] or serve them; for I the Lord your God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation of those who hate Me, but showing mercy and steadfast love to a thousand generations of those who love Me and keep My commandments.
That passage kept coming to my mind as I was drawing the genogram for my family. Also, after doing two studies called “Breaking Free” and “Believing God” I started to understand that part of my responsibility in this life (through Christ) was to break the chains of bondage my family had been under for generations. Knowing my dad came at me and tried to kill me with his crossbow (God Bless Gary Braunbeck for the fearless sharing of his story through Mo*Con and thus making me realize I was not healed) and later, dealing with a horrendous suicide in my closest circle of family nearly destroyed me. However, God has had me on a path of healing for many years now.
And every time I’m tempted to believe that somehow my creativity will be lost under the deluge of negative circumstances, I’m reminded that He created me to BE creative. No situation, experience, or mental incapability can stop the force of God’s purpose and will–except our own unwillingness to come humbly before Him.
To be clear, I’m not saying this is a faith issue. Not at all. I’m saying that I feel like I’ve been in your situation and I also feel like what I’ve learned if worth passing on to you, as a friend. What I’ve written here–I WISH someone would’ve told me decades ago. It’s just something for you to ponder, it’s yours for the taking (or the leaving) and no offense will be taken either way. Just think about what your responsibility is to your family.
I saw this in a parenting book I started last night that (I think) makes my point:
“You’ve been handed a piece of history in advance–a gracious gift you send to a time you will not see–and you play the biggest role in how that history will ultimately be recorded.”
Praying for you, friend. (((hugs)))
I can’t speak to being a Christian (I’m not), but I can say that some level of stability regarding mental health can open creative doors you did not realize exist. Whether it’s prayer, medication, exercise, counselling, or really good chocolate, finding at least a seni-stable point can help you focus.
And it is a heck of a lot easier on the family.
This is probably the first time that I’ve openly admitted that I’m on medication for depression. I’ve been on them for almost two years now, and I probably should have started them 15 years ago. Depression and extreme anxiety run in my family, yet it’s something that very few of us talk about.
I was ashamed to admit that perhaps I needed medication, and a lot of it has to do with my Christian upbringing. If I was sad, then I wasn’t relying on the Lord enough. I must not be praying hard enough, and should be reading more scripture. I needed to sing more songs or just TRY HARDER. And that was what killed me the most: feeling like somehow I must have brought it on myself and I wasn’t trying hard enough.
My church’s doctrine has nothing negative to say about medication of any sort. But sometimes doctrine doesn’t come into play as much as the culture of the people. Some of the people were the ones who made me feel ashamed. Later, I realized that they were people whose opinions really shouldn’t mean anything to me. All of my friends and family were behind my decision to look for help.
After I started the meds, I found that I didn’t lose my creativity. It didn’t suppress anything. It brought my baseline up to an even keel, and toned my anxiety down wonderfully. I was always functional, but now I’m laughing more. It was, for me, a great decision.
You are definitely on to something. As I’ve noted several times during Melissa Etheridge’s career arc (whose personal life is an open book), the albums with her most inspired material come out right after she’s been dumped. On the flip side, the boring commercial albums come out while she’s “stable.”
R.J.
So you *are* going to a counselor, Maurice?! I didn’t see this! With Sally? So – is the counsellor a marriage counselor? Family counselor? Couples counselor??
I think that may be just what you need where you are now.. However, I can’t shake off the image of true psychoanalysis of being more of a private, one-to-one, exploration!
(My own counselling sessions, billed as “psycho-dynamic”, felt more like learning single combat at a gladiator school!
Least I made it that way – and boy was little firebrand 19-year-old me up for that! 
)
But it can be more pastoral! It’s like a journey..
Aren’t Americans always impatient with broken things and want quick fixes?!
You don’t have time to find yourselves. But is there no more cachet to being analyzed, in middle-class circles, as there was at the mid-century?
Or was that a “white thang”? But lots of your friends are white.
Mmm & I know what you mean about fearing that your treatment will lose you your creative mojo! (Don’t worry: it doesn’t: I know! Spending the best of your youth stewing in a ruralbackwater with nowt “proper” to do, looking after a parent might, though! :/ )
Now: w the creative mojo being unravelled idea: Think of it in the words of a Ray Bradbury character: I think in Fahrenheit 451. She goes to be psychoanalyzed, and she compares herself to an onion: they always think they’re reaching the end of her psyche, but there are always new layers..
Oh: and when is the guest post by a *creative crazy neopagan* appearing?! Just asking.. Since your anthologies have all been ecumenical!
(I tell you one thing: I bet there’s far more pagans who actually want to LOOK crazy (or SOUND crazy sometimes!) than there are Christians!! We Nature religionists can be quite theatrical when we choose!)
Why you even thought *I* was crazy once! Wiho, me?!