Thursday, August 31, 2006

offended.

Right now I'm reading Detour: My Bipolar Road Trip in 4-D by Lizzie Simon. I got to a chapter that was absolutely infuriating. She mentions an article from The NYPress, an alternative newspaper in New York (obviously). I've never read anything more offensive and ignorant in my entire life. This particular article is from some sort of "Best of" issue. Earlier in the book, Lizzie describes a poster that she saw on a subway that touched her in a profound way, and was happy to notice that these posters were all over the city. It had a picture of a business woman in a suit and said, "For People with Mental Illness, Treatment is Working". I assume it was meant to be taken in two ways: One way is that the current treatment for mental illnesses are working, and the second way is that it's possible to be successful despite having bipolar disorder, chronic depression, schizophrenia, or what have you. It's a rather thoughtful ad, from what I've read about it. Of course, this all happened in 1999, I believe, so it's almost 8 years old.

Anyway, when Lizzie is reading through The NYPress, she sees that one of the "Best Ofs" has been awarded to the subway ad, but in a rather horribly offensive and ignorant way. If I may:

Best Scary Subway Ad

Crazy Train. It's the kind of bland subway advertisement you wouldn't look twice at if you didn't read the logo in the corner. It's just a picture of a well-dressed woman in an office, smiling pleasantly at the camera. Until you read the logo, it could easily be an ad for a law firm or a job placement agency. But there it is, "For People with Mental Illness. . ." With that, everything's turned on its head. Take a look at the picture again--suddenly the pleasant smile on the woman's face has become a pain grimaced, stretched tight across the skull already at the point of bursting with homicidal fantasies. Her hands, at first just clasped together calmly in her lap, become claws, clamped together in a vain attempt to keep them from slashing out the cameraman's, or her own eyes. We see a lot of crazy people on the streets, on the elevator, and in the office. We know what they look like. We know what they're up to--what they're planning and what they're capable of--and we'll tell you this: It's no good. The pleasant office she's sitting in in that picture? We bet within a week the walls are smeared and splattered with buckets of her fellow employees' blood, and riddled with bullet holes after she's gone marching through the halls with an arsenal of high-powered weapons strapped to her body. "Treatment Works"; yeah, sure, in some cases--but just to be on the safe side, especially given recent events across the country, just keep them the hell away from us, okay?

Oh, for the love of god. Like I said, this was written years ago, but that doesn't mean much. People still have an incredible amount of prejudice against people like myself, but sweet Jesus, this is an alternative newspaper; they're generally more well-informed and accepting than regular newspapers, yet I've never read anything this offensive in regular newspapers. It's almost as if they did this for the backlash it would cause and the amount of people they would hurt. Or maybe they said these horrible things because they were trying to be "shocking" or "blunt". I call this being an idiot.

My first reaction, of course, was anger and shock. My second was more analytical. Imagine if the phrase "mental illness" was replaced with "blacks" or "Jews." Imagine the fury it would ignite! And rightly so, if I say so myself. This newspaper would've been out of print in no time. I find it interesting that they believe people with psychological disorders will automatically be prone to violence, when in fact we are more likely to be victims of violent crimes. Would they say the same thing about people who are developmentally challenged or people with autism? I doubt it.

I also wonder if they know that the Nazis were in favor of eradicating anyone with mental illness along with Jews, homosexuals, and anyone else they felt to be undesirable.

No, the sad truth is that I think whoever is responsible for letting this be published had watched one too many horror movies and read about Arkham Asylum in the Batman comics far too much. It's also very possible that the author knows someone who suffers from a psychiatric disorder, but he/she seems "normal" and disinclined to go on a mass murder spree, so the author doesn't know it because he's been too wrapped in being a shithead to ask.

This isn't uncommon. My mother wrote a short story about watching Law & Order with Daddy and me, and how the schizophrenic is always the killer, and anyone with manic depression is killed and discusses how my erratic my moods were at the time. She brought it to writer's workshop, and the woman teaching it didn't think it was non-fiction because (and I quote), "Things like that don't happen in real families."

Honestly! The ignorance of the general public had always driven me a little batty, but if it continues, I might just be forced to educate them. In any case, when I want my share of alternative news, I think I'll just stick with the Village Voice.

August 2006 at KKBJ

Since we started this new blog on August 28, 2006 there's only a couple of posts. You'll read about stigma, Lizzie Simon and being a bipolar teen and going to college.

In September we're hoping to write more about fighting stigma, emergency preparedness, Hurricane Katrina, getting an education for your child with bipolar disorder and Katee's fall semester at college.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

a thought. or, well, maybe a lot of them.

On Monday, Mom and I went to Barnes & Noble so I could grab a frappucino. On our way to the cafe, we ran across a table full of paperbacks on sale, a buy-2-get-the-3rd-free type thing. The table had an incredible number of books about bipolar disorder and depression and, in the midst of these, Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser. I'd wanted to read Fast Food Nation for quite a while, so I picked that one up, and we decided on two other books, both about women with bipolar disorder: Detour: My Bipolar Road Trip in 4-D by Lizzie Simon and An Unquiet Mind by Kay Redfield Jamison. These books are both on my list of books to buy, so I was quite excited.

I've started on Detour which looks promising as a good book, and I've also started on An Unquiet Mind. Reading books on all this madness has got me thinking about some things more than I generally do. A few weeks ago, I read a secret on PostSecret that said something like, "I've recovered from my mental illness. It's been a part of me for so long that I have no idea who I am anymore." This thought has been floating around in my mind since then, and after starting these books, I've been thinking of it more.

If someone came up to me and said, "We've found a cure for bipolar disorder, and we'd like to give it to you for free," I honestly can't say that I know what my decision would be. I don't know what it's like to not have this. Bipolar disorder is a part of me. It's a vicious companion and I'm sure I take thousands of dollars worth of drugs each year to keep myself stabilized, but I've always known that this is how I am and it's irreversible, so I make the best of it. If anything, it's made me stronger than I could have ever thought possible and given me something to write about it.

Another worry has to do with the writing. Many of the world's greatest writers, singers, musicians, painters, sculptors, dancers, actors, politicians, leaders, and philosophers have had psychiatric disorders. I'm afraid I'll lose this creative spark that I've been so blessed with. I'm afraid I will not be myself anymore. If my madness is also responsible for my creativity, is it worth giving it up?

Yes, I'm quite aware that I overanalyze far too many things and that a cure or vaccine or whatever will probably not be discovered in my lifetime, but it's such an interesting thing to think about, don't you think?

On the other hand, if my child were to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder or depression or any psychiatric disorder in general, I would want her to have a cure. I wouldn't want her to grow up with the mood swings, or months full of depression, or the weeks of destructive mania, or the insufferable times when the two clash together, creating a mixed state. I would want her to be happy and healthy.

It doesn't make any sense to me, either. Why would I deny myself a cure and give it to my child in a heartbeat? I suppose I've always been afraid of change, and stubborn in changing my beliefs or personality, but this is different. This is like choosing between a shot to get rid of diabetes or a life full of insulin shots and watching everything that I eat.

Maybe this is a mark of my bipolar disorder. Maybe wanting to keep my illness rather than getting rid of it is a trait of madness. I honestly don't know.

In other news, the weather has cooled off beyond anyone's expectations. The low for tonight is 69 degrees, my absentminded professor has sent out an announcement telling the class that he's not counting anyone absent and not to worry about anything, I've caught up on my math homework, and have most of my notes copied down. Life is beautiful.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

the absentminded professor.

I haven't been a full-time student since my first semester. I'm actually incredibly amazed that I got through that semester with a 2.8ish GPA because of all the pot I was smoking at the time. But yeah, I'm kind of freaking out a bit about my Art History class. This may or may not be normal anxiety, I don't know, but it's starting to piss me off. This class would be a damn breeze if I could access the homework quiz to prove that I'm attending classes. I emailed my instructor and haven't gotten an answer back. Apparently it's not just me because someone forwarded an email to the whole class asking if we were having trouble with the assignments.

If I drop the class I have to go to my advisor to add another class, and my advisor just happens to be my Art History teacher. Goddammit. I have to take at least 12 hours to stay on Mom's insurance. Insurance is a good thing, children, because I take expensive medication and we're about to have to pay for Daddy's because Medicare is dumb.

Urgh. :( So I'm all stressed out. I have an appointment with my psychiatrist tomorrow so I can get some refills and so he can check on me. It's at 9:15 in the morning. I need to go to bed right now. I miss not needing sleep. :|

Low Stress College

Katee went back to college last week. She's taking four classes. That means 12 hours.

I worry about how she will do. Will she be able to stay in school this time? Last spring she had to drop out because she was overwhelmed but she was off her meds also.

Three of the classes are via the internet through the local community college. The other class is a math class and she goes to the campus twice a week.

We have high hopes for her because she's on a cocktail of meds that seem to be working (except for the birth control but that's another post). We do need to get her back to her therapist so she can talk some stuff through.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Kathryn and Kateeā€™s Bipolar Journal

Sometimes over at crazyinshreveport.blogspot.com information on how Charlie and Katee deal with being bipolar gets lost in the postings of daily life in the South.

We've started a second blog.

Katee will post about being bipolar and I will write about being a caregiver to a husband and daughter who are bipolar. We hope you enjoy reading it and would welcome your comments.