Living with Mental Illness
“The struggle itself toward the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.”
—Albert Camus
Sisyphus was a Greek god famous for his trickery and deceit. When he died he was condemned by the gods to roll an enormous rock to the top of a mountain every day for all eternity. Every day he would roll it up the mountain and then the rock would roll back down to the bottom.
Albert Camus likened Sisyphus to an absurd hero; because he knows what will happen after the rock is rolled to the top, yet he remains content in doing so. What the gods intended as punishment, Sisyphus does not see as such.
Our faith teaches us that we are seekers. There are no definitive answers. There is no correct path. In this way, our faith demands a lot from us. Our faith does not give us a savior, we must find our own.
The same is true of mental illness. It is a journey. There are no definitive answers. There is no correct path. Our illnesses demand a lot from us. There are no universally guaranteed medications or treatments; we must find what works for us.
Personal Story
In my senior year of college, I had a psychotic manic episode and was hospitalized for two weeks. At 21 years old, I received a lifelong companion, bi-polar disorder.
My new companion overwhelmed me for almost two years. I was doped up, depressed, and I gained 50 pounds. During that time I remember going to my psychologist and just sitting in her office silently. Thankfully, she would not poke and prod me, force me to speak or demand that I act. She would just repeat a mantra during those otherwise quiet hours, “Give it time, Adam. Give it time.”
I took her advice and I found ways to pass the time. I managed to graduate from college. I only had a semester remaining, so I dropped my international affairs major, took art, dance, and a literature class and got a general liberal arts degree. I spent my time between classes sleeping in my car. Then I got a job that demanded little of me. At home I slept, watched TV, smoked on my balcony, ate microwave dinners, and read Harry Potter. And, I reluctantly, yet consistently, took my medications. This was my life for 19 months.
Then, in the heart of the Amazon, something changed.
It was our first family vacation in many years. Our plans dissolved within 24 hours when our guide, who we had depended on for all our reservations and transportation, turned out to be a swindler. We were left to our own devices and had to marshal all our talent (and Portuguese) to make it up on the go. I was very nervous going into the trip because Brazil seemed so far away from my carefully nurtured post-traumatic comfort zone. But when our plans fell apart, I found that I had something to contribute: my humor.
Growing up, my older brother had been the hot one and I was the funny one. But for the year after my hospitalization, I made very few jokes and most of my smiles were forced. But in the jungle, in the embrace of my crazy hectic family vacation, when we all needed a little comic relief, I was able to play that role. I had them cracking up!
I was reminded on that vacation that I have a role to play in this world. I am a brother and son. I am a community member and a friend. I am a talented change agent. I realized the most important thing in my life was to play those roles well and to do so I had to learn to boldly co-exist with bi-polar disorder.
When I returned to Cincinnati, I made some changes. I joined weight watchers and dropped my weight. I started exercising and reading the news. I looked for jobs in the international affairs field and found one in Washington, D.C.
I had a lot of help. I made a major change in my medications and for the first time they were helping. My professionals continued to support me. My mom found the job posting. My brother and sister-in-law were in D.C. and helped me adjust. I was on my way.
Now, I am eight years into my arranged marriage and I have learned a lot. I am vigilant about my physical health. I eat well, exercise, and am fanatic about getting eight hours of sleep. Nothing throws me off kilter like sleep deprivation. To this day, I still occasionally practice the give it time doctrine.
When I fail to care for my needs or life just gets the best of me, my first resort is retreat. I make sure all my urgent commitments are taken care of, then I turn off my phone, curl up in my bed, stream Netflix or read a ridiculous novel and avoid the world for a while. Sometimes, I catch my fluctuation earlier and I go for a long bike ride or walk a labyrinth and that does the trick.
When I have a persistent funk, I seek out professional help. I have found help from psychiatrists, psychologists, many ministers, a psychic, and a shaman. But the biggest tool in my wellness toolbox is self-awareness. I have been forced to develop an objective view of my self. It is up to me to identify when I am losing control and figure out a way to get it back.
In many ways I am blessed. I have always had access to good professional help and I have a circle of family and friends that have always been there for me.
It has been a journey, but I have learned to live boldly with bi-polar disorder. I became a leader within Unitarian Universalism, helping launch and manage the Standing on the Side of Love Campaign. I met a woman who was definitely out of my league before I was diagnosed and now she is my wife. I am now in law school and at the top of my class. I have accomplished this without another trip to the hospital and I’ve avoided slipping back into a depressive stupor. But my bi-polar disorder is always on my mind and plays a role in every major decision I make.
During some frustrating moments, my psychiatrist in D.C. often reminded me that no one escapes life without having some heavy rock they struggle to push up a hill. Some of us face a Sisyphean challenge where each day’s triumph must be redone tomorrow. In that way, we may be absurd heroes. But each night when I pop my pills and lay down next to my wife, my never-ending struggle towards the heights is enough to fill my heart.
A Prayer
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.
—Reinhold Niebuhr
A Spiritual Practice
Two possible spiritual practices:
Pray
When you are feeling overwhelmed offer a prayer, but always begin with gratitude. Give thanks for as many things as you can think of before you offer up your burdens or ask for strength. “Dear God/Spirit of Life thank you for…”
Walk a labyrinth or a makeshift labyrinth
All you need is a path that you can walk out on and then return from, but it has to have an end where you turn around. As you walk out focus on whatever is troubling you. Think about it as much as you can. Feel its weight. Once you get to the end of labyrinth, stop and offer up your burden to God. Do not move until you feel your burden get lighter. Then turn around and walk out. Think about the future on your way out and the great things you can do. Rejoice in the lightening of your load.
Go out into the world in peace.
Have courage.
Hold on to what is good.
Return to no person evil for evil.
Strengthen the faint hearted.
Support the weak.
Help the suffering.
Honor all persons.
- Boldly Co-Existing with Mental Illness - March 1, 2014
- Broken Expectations - March 15, 2012
- Living with Mental Illness - November 11, 2011
