Part 2 is here.
I can remember the exact moment I figured out that my psychiatrist (the one who diagnosed me) knew what the hell he was doing. It was when, in the course of asking all the usual psychy-psychy questions ("Do you ever think about hurting yourself or others?", "On a scale of 1 to 10, how severe would you say your depression is?", "Do you like the new couch?", etcetera), he asked this one:
"Do you like puns?"
Which took me aback a little bit. Because I do. Quite a bit. Especially when I'm in a good mood.
"You're kinda freaking me out, doc. What gave it away?"
See, it turns out an enjoyment of/engagement in/freakishly annoying obsession with puns and wordplay is one of the symptoms -- or, shall we say, "characteristics" -- of a manic episode. And here I always thought it was just part of who I was.
"Fortunately, they have a pill for that now."
As I noted in Part 1, if it were up to me, I would stay in my manic mode all the time. My wife is very glad I can't. When I'm manic, I talk faster; I use more words; I do weird, spazzy things (nothing too crazy -- I might, say, do the Safety Dance around the living room apropos of nothing -- but... spazzy); I focus obsessively on somewhat grandiose tasks (I once dug and built a stonework path in our backyard "just because", and wrote an entire play in a month); overall I get a little... intense. For those of you who've been around me and thought I was just a little too much, now you know why. As my wife will be happy to tell you, I can be very, very annoying when I'm manic.
But, like I said, I love it. I talk faster because I think faster. I'm smarter and funnier. Almost all of my good writing gets done when I'm manic (the editing is another story, but that's neither here nor there). If you notice a post that goes on and on and on just a hair too much, then I was probably manic when I wrote it. I've got just a little bit of an edge right now, for example.
When I get depressed, I get stupid. I can't think of the word for incredibly obvious things (like "cabinet"), and whatever I try to write comes out clumsy and off, especially if I'm trying to be funny. It's incredibly frustrating. If you've ever read a post or a message from me that felt forced, and just plain wasn't funny, I was probably depressed when I wrote it.
Blech.
So, like I said, I'd be manic all the time if I could help it. Fortunately for my wife, I'm not.
How I feel when I'm manic...
....and what my wife actually gets to deal with.
"Fortunately, they have a pill for that now."
As I noted in Part 1, if it were up to me, I would stay in my manic mode all the time. My wife is very glad I can't. When I'm manic, I talk faster; I use more words; I do weird, spazzy things (nothing too crazy -- I might, say, do the Safety Dance around the living room apropos of nothing -- but... spazzy); I focus obsessively on somewhat grandiose tasks (I once dug and built a stonework path in our backyard "just because", and wrote an entire play in a month); overall I get a little... intense. For those of you who've been around me and thought I was just a little too much, now you know why. As my wife will be happy to tell you, I can be very, very annoying when I'm manic.
But, like I said, I love it. I talk faster because I think faster. I'm smarter and funnier. Almost all of my good writing gets done when I'm manic (the editing is another story, but that's neither here nor there). If you notice a post that goes on and on and on just a hair too much, then I was probably manic when I wrote it. I've got just a little bit of an edge right now, for example.
When I get depressed, I get stupid. I can't think of the word for incredibly obvious things (like "cabinet"), and whatever I try to write comes out clumsy and off, especially if I'm trying to be funny. It's incredibly frustrating. If you've ever read a post or a message from me that felt forced, and just plain wasn't funny, I was probably depressed when I wrote it.
Blech.
So, like I said, I'd be manic all the time if I could help it. Fortunately for my wife, I'm not.
How I feel when I'm manic...
....and what my wife actually gets to deal with.
It's interesting to me that, essentially, what I'm doing when I take my meds is regulating my personality. Changing it. Frankly, there's some stuff about the pre-medicated me I miss. I was weirder, for one thing. Most other people didn't seem to like that as much, but it was who I was. I'm still me, but... a different me.
I'm less creative, in some ways. I'm probably a better writer and actor now, but it isn't always quite as much fun. I heard somewhere that mental illness is far more common among artists... that close to half of all professional poets were somewhere on the bipolar spectrum.
I don't write much poetry any more.
Right now, psychiatry is kinda like taking a ball peen hammer to a malfunctioning Swiss watch -- it may very well get it to run better, but no matter how gently you hit it, your tool is less subtle than the internal mechanism by several orders of magnitude. Don't get me wrong, my meds work pretty damn well, and I'm glad I have them, but I do wonder what life will be like when we can medicate with greater precision. When we can change personalities on demand, and get exactly what we want. What if we could make people "artistic"? Or "nice"?
Who would you want to be?
Who would they want to be?
...
Next time, the Ugly Truth About Depression, Which Is Even Uglier Than You Thought, or "Why Sara Kane's Crave is the Worst Play in the Universe".
I'm less creative, in some ways. I'm probably a better writer and actor now, but it isn't always quite as much fun. I heard somewhere that mental illness is far more common among artists... that close to half of all professional poets were somewhere on the bipolar spectrum.
I don't write much poetry any more.
Right now, psychiatry is kinda like taking a ball peen hammer to a malfunctioning Swiss watch -- it may very well get it to run better, but no matter how gently you hit it, your tool is less subtle than the internal mechanism by several orders of magnitude. Don't get me wrong, my meds work pretty damn well, and I'm glad I have them, but I do wonder what life will be like when we can medicate with greater precision. When we can change personalities on demand, and get exactly what we want. What if we could make people "artistic"? Or "nice"?
Who would you want to be?
Who would they want to be?
...
Next time, the Ugly Truth About Depression, Which Is Even Uglier Than You Thought, or "Why Sara Kane's Crave is the Worst Play in the Universe".
-- The Prolix Wag
I know more about it because I've lived it. I would know more about it anyway, but let's not quibble.
I know more about it because I've lived it. I would know more about it anyway, but let's not quibble.
The more I read on the subject, expanding out from your blog. The more this makes sense. And the more I feel that I may need to look into some of my own "manic" moments to see if its something more then me just being goofy.
ReplyDeleteAgain, the real question isn't "is it more than me just being goofy?", it's "is it interfering with my life?" Because the answer to the former could be yes, and the latter no. In fact, it could be improving your life.
ReplyDeleteHell, it could BE your life.