Depression in Dublin + I'M ON LITHIUM in NYC
If you’re in NYC, come check out I’M ON LITHIUM on July 17th!!! You can reserve seats here.
"John describes a euphoric manic episode with incredible detail and insight, pulling the listener into his globetrotting quest and the characters he meets along the way. You will root for him, you will laugh (often to the point of tears) and you will come away with a new understanding of bipolar disorder and appreciation for the human condition." - Dr. Kat Nordgren, Psychiatrist, Bellevue Hospital
WARNING: This one is saddddddddd…
It’s April of 2003. The bottom has dropped out. I’m clinically depressed. In an act of undeserved graciousness, the Rabbi and the roommates let me move back into the Jewish student housing where I wreaked utter havoc. I’m humbled and full of shame. I slink into my room. I lay down on the floor, and I cry.
I now have an all too powerful grasp of reality that is misery manifested. I’m paralyzed by my acute memory of the insanity. My marbles have come back with a vengeance. It’s certainly a strange phenomenon to lose my marbles and then get them back and be left to reflect upon how I could have possibly lost them in the first place. In other words, it’s weird to be crazy and then not be crazy. It’s jarring. It’s humiliating. It demands introspection of the darkest order. Also, it’s almost unfathomable to my sane-again mind that such insanity could have possibly infiltrated my psyche. It’s a bizarre and uneasy feeling that never fully goes away.
My depression sucks. Everybody’s depression sucks. It’s hard to explain it in an interesting way. It’s hard to relay the details of the minutiae without succumbing to platitudes. After mania, the brain slows down. It slows way down. It was working overtime, to put it lightly. Now it needs to heal. Unfortunately, for me, the healing process involves debilitating emotional pain, self-hate, embarrassment, shame, exhaustion, brain fog, and a deep desire for isolation. It also takes time. And that time passes slowly. Depression sucks.
For many years, I’ve described the feeling of the fall from mania into depression as being, “A lion who has been reduced to a worm but is tortured by the memory of what it was like to be that lion.” When depressed, I feel like I’m a rumor of a husk of my former self who is hauntingly aware of what I was like when I still had the spark of life inside me. It feels terrible. I also believe that I’m going to be stuck as this loathsome version of myself forever; as though cursed to live out the rest of my days as a broken thing. My depressed mind does not leave room for me to glimpse the possibility that this too shall pass. When I’m depressed, I’m unable to perceive that I won’t always be depressed. This errant belief is a symptom of depression.
Another symptom of depression is suicidal ideation. People with Bipolar Disorder have a 19% suicide rate and a 50% attempted suicided rate. I feel very lucky to be alive, and I’m grateful that I’ve never attempted suicide. I have, though, experienced ideations of suicide. That is where I have been comforted by the fact that suicide is an option; that the possibility of checking out permanently is a sort of kindness to relieve all of the pain. And something that I think is really important to understand is that when somebody is depressed, their brain may be trying to trick them into taking their own life. That can be another symptom of depression. And if people can be aware of that and realize that it’s a symptom and symptoms will pass and symptoms don’t have to be acted upon, maybe that little bit of insight and understanding can save somebody’s life. One can hope.
Yeah, depression sucks. It’s so intense and banal at the same time. When it comes to Bipolar Disorder, the medical authorities used to say that Bipolar 1 Disorder was more severe than Bipolar 2 Disorder because Bipolar 1 involves full-blown manic episodes, while Bipolar 2 involves hypomania (aka mania-light). However, because the depressions in Bipolar 2 can be so much longer and potentially more treatment-resistant than the depressions in Bipolar 1, the current thinking is that both versions of the mood disorder are of equal severity. Fair enough. I do have to admit, though, that for many years I’ve maintained a twisted sense of pride about having a Bipolar 1 diagnosis compared to a Bipolar 2 diagnosis because of the epic highs I’ve traversed. It’s so silly. I think it’s time I remove that perverse badge of honor lol.
Something I’ve come to learn about depression is that, ultimately, it is irrational. Yeah sure, it makes sense for me to be sad after I’ve exploded my life and the life of those around me, due to a manic episode - But that doesn’t mean I should believe that my personality and spirit won’t ever come back. It doesn’t mean I should believe that I can’t find a path to recovery and self-forgiveness. It doesn’t mean I should believe that I’m unworthy of love and incapable of happiness. And it certainly doesn’t mean I should believe that I deserve to die. That’s bullshit.
I remain depressed in Dublin for all of April and May. Somehow I manage to complete my studies. I return home to America in June. My depression continues throughout the entire summer and into the fall. In September of 2003, I return to Ann Arbor, Michigan for my senior year of college. I’m miserable. But, due to my pre-manic performances in Ireland, I’m now somewhat funny at doing stand up. So that’s something.
We’ll get into it in the next chapter.
Love,
JFOD
P.S. If you want to read past entries, go to jfodnews.com
Hey! Where's the next chapter?
Oh boy! You're a writer extraordinaire!
Wish I'd known more of this at the time, but you-know-who rarely discloses.
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Hugs and great affection!