Brian's View

Here is what my friend Brian has to say on the matter:

Ahh, yes, the agony and the ecstasy....but especially that ecstasy. Someone
wished for the creative hypomanias. What I would give to be a 6.7 on a 0-10
scale of depression-mania, with 0 being suicidally depressed and 10 being in
full galloping, interstellar overdrive, rip-roaring mania.

I have bipolar-I. Right now, I am stable, thank God and Lithium, or probably
just God for creating such a remarkable element. Several years ago, I
adamantly professed a certain pride in being of the enlightened bipolar
clan? Like Kay Jamison's "Touched By Fire," I was convinced that it gave me
supernatural powers and prowess. I do know this: Having bipolar disorder
enables me to have a bottomless well of empathy for the full range of human
emotion. I do not stigmatize against others, regardless of mental
faculties, race, sexual orientation, or socioeconomic background. People
who do stupid things, act like morons, or act out of ill will toward others
or the world in which they live are another matter. I think it might be
possible that bipolar disorder has afforded me a more highly magnified sense
of what constitutes right and wrong, but then again...my parents instilled
that in me very well also.

I know what ecstatic, incredibly creative and highly productive mania are
all about. In some very real ways, I highly value the experiences I've had
dealing with the vagaries of this illness. However, I have come a long way
since those heady first few posts of mine to Pendulum, back when my optimism
was still strong.

Bipolar disorder has impaired my development as a human being. It has
sabotaged my schooling and my career, my passion as it were, repeatedly
throughout my teenage and adult life, most recently just last fall. It has
negatively impacted or destroyed what few romances I have had, and impeded
the development of others throughout my life. It has almost ruined several
friendships and darkened most others. Finally, it is undoubtedly the reason
why I have not found some measure of self-sustainability, even though I have
a Master's Degree.

This leads directly into the hotly debated issue of functionality and
disability. I have a disability; there is absolutely no question about it.
Bipolar type-I is a severe, persistent major mental illness. I go through
periods of quietude, wherein the illness sleeps and/or the meds work well.
However, and this is key, I still have bipolar disorder. I still think
differently. My brain is still hard-wired very differently from those who
do not have this illness. I do not think linearly, but rather in spirals
and zigzags, or figure eights, or other non-linear pathways. I am always
highly distractible and might as well have ADHD. I obsess on stuff
regularly. I forget stuff every day, leaving untold thousands of dollars
worth of merchandise and whatnot in the ether of disappearance over the
course of my life. The effects of the illness upon my daily functioning
blur together with the side effects of the medications I take, making it
difficult to know which is which and what to do about it.

Bipolar disorder is a "Hidden Disability." When I'm functional, even if
only slightly, it is not readily apparent at a glance, or in a short
encounter. When it is sleeping, I appear to be perfectly fine, in a
long-haired, liberal-bordering-on-radical-sorta way. I have periods of very
high functioning, when the greater portion of my intellectual creative
ingenuity is expressed and I accomplish great things, even original ideas.
But I've still got it, and it is a sleeping monster, a Demon that I must
confront in some way or another most every day. It is always in my mind and
thoughts. I once had the opportunity to help co-facilitate a couple of
Disability Awareness Workshops near where I live. What the Federal
Government considers "Disabled" is, quite frankly, bullshit. The world I
perceive has been, is, and always will be vastly different than those
without this illness. While this might make me a bit more unique, it is no
longer desirable, for when I do become sick again, something that has come
to seem inevitable eventually, I become totally disabled and completely
incapacitated. At this point in my life, I am sick of being sick with this
monstrous illness.

If I were to be granted a cosmic choice, I would choose to not have bipolar
disorder in an instant and never, ever look back in longing for it. I don't
get those ecstatic, LSD evoking manic surges anymore. All I get now are the
tortures of the bipolar depressive damned, and I have had it with this
illness. Go, Lithium, GO!