From the Heart: Mental Illness and Creation
I lost yesterday.
The day happened, sure. I was present (sorta) for June 5th, 2018. I slept, woke, ate, and interacted with my family.
Yet for all intents and purposes, yesterday was consumed in the black hole that is my mental illness.
It’s important for me to share these experiences. A blessedly small percentage of the general populace has to deal with these situations. Those who do not need to understand what is happening and what it requires to deal with. Those that do suffer need to see that they are not alone in their suffering. We are here, together.
No matter your personal orbit around mental health issues, these things need to be said.
Yesterday didn’t happen. All the things which I could’ve done, all the moments that I could’ve created or shared, weren’t. The body that I inhabit, the consciousness that I think of and refer to as Justin Wallace were present, sure. Yet surrounding all of that were the darker aspects of my existence. The constant, ceaseless noise that is bi-polar depression unchained.
Some days, you can’t even tell that I have this struggle. I am bright, engaging, some would say vivacious. It’s what I like to refer to as my ‘stable self’. That’s what I’m like when the chemicals in my head are all in the proper alignment and quantity. It’s rare, but it happens. Mostly as a function of medication, but that’s not really my fault. The same way a cancer patient getting chemo isn’t weakness, a bi-polar sufferer using medications for stability isn’t shameful: it’s survival. I just want to stay here with the people I care for and I’ll use any tool I can find to beat back the darkness.
Yet like the majority of Americans who struggle at the bottom, affording that medication is another story. It’s expensive, even if you’ve the luxury of affordable health care. At this time, in this moment, I am not able to do either of those things.
I have enough from my last prescription that I can weather the bad days and try to eek by until the good ones. But it’s not a perfect system, and there are days like yesterday.
Close your eyes for a moment and think back on your life. Find all the spots where you said, or did, something that was negative towards yourself. A self-deprecating joke, a put-down after a mistake, a simple expression of frustration for an overlooked detail which lead to more work than was necessary to complete a task. A moment when you felt embarrassed or ashamed for forgetting something you had promised to do for someone you care about.
Combine all those moments into one track on an iPod. Now imagine that the earbuds to that iPod were put in your ears, and then super-glued in place. Taped over. Nailed shut. Then, the iPod track is played. On repeat.
All. Day.
No matter what you do, no matter how you try to drown it out or remove the earbuds, you hear those negative things. They whisper to you, incessant and immutable, until you think you can’t take another moment of it. You wish for something, anything, to drown out the noise or silence the whispers.
It gets dark inside, and no matter how prepared you think you are for it, each time is as bad as the last. Sometimes, it’s worse than it’s ever been before. Each time, you worry that this will be the one where you can’t pull the earbuds out. This will be the time when you can’t keep fighting the noise, tearing at the boards and the tape and the glue even though it hurts beyond anything you imagined. You fear that even though you scrabble till your fingers are bloody, the earbuds will refuse to budge.
You fear that this will be The Last Time.
I fought, however, because at the end of the day I have things worth fighting for. I have things that I want to do, people I wish so desperately to impress with my wit and my work ethic. I have a family, a wife that loves me despite the dark times and the fear. And I have my son. The apple of my eye, whose smile breaks apart the bad things until I can almost forget they are there. Whose eyes get filled with concern when he sees that daddy is sad. Who hits his head and wants me or mommy to hug him and kiss his head and make it all better.
I don’t want these thoughts. I don’t want these emotions. I don’t want these dark times. Who would? They are horrendous and depressing. A loop of all the things you hate about yourself played non-stop? Pass.
Yet, because of the way my brain works, I don’t have an option. Some days, when the medication is thin, when the cracks reopen and I can’t seal them in time, I am taken again to the dark places.
I hope that you will be patient with me. It’s not that I am lazy or don’t want to write. It isn’t that I cannot or will not do the things necessary for my success.
It’s just that some days it’s all I can do to keep on keeping on.
Justin
