COLUMN: ‘An Unquiet Mind’ fights a mental-illness stigma
I was thrilled to receive a copy of “An Unquiet Mind” for Christmas, but, as a multi-book reader, it took me a couple months to finish the memoir. Kay Redfield Jamison takes the reader on an inside tour of the experiences she has encountered living with manic-depressive illness — more recently labeled as bipolar disorder.
The stigma for mental illness is abhorrent, and in my opinion, drastically needs to be changed. Of course, society has come a long way. People with mental ailments of any sort were often locked up for their entire lives. When faced with unexplained or “not normal” behavior in an individual, it’s common to react in fear. Fear of the unknown and of what could go wrong affects friends and family members of those with mental illness.
On top of the already difficult struggles someone with a mental illness faces, she or he then has to face the reality that their friends are looking at them differently, their parents are concerned, and society labels them as crazy.
I loved the perspective Jamison presented throughout the memoir. Often, in my opinion, mentally ill people are viewed as dangerous, unstable and out of control. I have noticed in media representations there aren’t many characters living happily or healthily with a mental illness. What we often see is the bipolar girl who drives her car through the middle of the street, the schizophrenic who drowns his cat or the sociopath out to kill and make skin costumes.
Clearly, people with mental illness have in the past committed crimes of such proportion, but an overwhelming amount of people living with an illness live ordinary everyday lives and aren’t a walking time bomb waiting to explode.
Jamison herself was a psychiatrist and had her first episode of full-blown mania and deep depression while she was still attending school. She graphically and realistically presented the implications of how her life has been affected by the highs and lows of her disease. After her initial diagnosis, Jamison began the difficult sojourn of finding the right mix of medication to treat her mood swings. Eventually she found a level of lithium that worked best for her.
Toward the end of her writings, Jamison answered a difficult question for herself and for readers. If she were to choose, would she choose to live with or without manic-depressive illness? She answered that if lithium were available, she most definitely would have the illness again. She eloquently explained that though she has seen the lowest points of life — the dark, debilitating depressions — but she, in turn, has experienced the highest highs. She’s walked on clouds — which gives you so much room to fall.
In appreciation and respect for Jamison’s acceptance and pride in her disease, I am going to come out of the closet myself. I have had my dance with mania and depression as well. It’s something we often don’t talk about, but here I am — talking. I feel if we are more open about the gifts and curses of our minds, we come to learn we aren’t so “crazy” after all. We’re just different. I also have to echo Jamison’s words. Would I pick this for myself? It’s hard to be as confident in my “yes,” but I hopefully proclaim it. I haven’t mastered the monster yet, but I’m ready for the journey. And I am also incredibly grateful for the positive aspects of this disorder.
I swung from carefully masked depression into normalcy, into mania — the pendulum of emotion — as I describe it. On this epic swing, I went from hating everything about myself and life to adoring and appreciating every detail. I could finally see, taste, smell and hear again. The heavy cloud was suddenly lifted. Even though I swung too far into crazy town, I learned a lot in the process. I learned I am capable of greatness and of failure, but I don’t have to be both all the time. I will never be perfect, and that’s OK. Most importantly I have come to realize it does not matter what other people think. But even though it doesn’t matter, in these circumstances I think an open dialogue is very much at need.
Jamison was lucky enough to be surrounded by colleagues and friends who were well-versed in the language of insanity. She knew what she was going through was common and, though tremendously difficult, treatable.
I believe Jamison took a huge risk in both her professional and personal life by outing her travails to the world, but she is my hero. In sharing her highs, lows and wise perspectives, she has helped to lift the shame of my own condition.
It broke my heart when she shared an incident when she shared her diagnosis with a friend and he told her he was disappointed in her — as if she had chosen to be plagued with this burden. He said she had let down his expectations because she was “weak” enough to attempt suicide.
I hope more people can come to the realization that no illness is chosen; it is in the acceptance and treatment of negative symptoms where choice and responsibility comes into play. No, she did not chose manic-depression, but she did chose to continue to pursue her education and to find the right combination of medication. She didn’t give up. In my mind, she is far from weak but is courageous and a masterful leader in the reform of a negative stigma. I’m hopeful, with time, as a society, we will become more accepting of the diversity in all things — race, gender, sexuality and behavior. There should be no shame in standing up for who you are and defending your right to be treated normally.
– natashabodily@gmail.com