There is a great deal of respect given to the medical profession. I wish equal respect was given to the incalculable value of individual creative expression. The “triage” reaction in the psychiatric community of “return the patient to a controlled state as quickly as possible, deal with the consequences of the drug’s side-effects later” comes at a considerable, perhaps unnecessary price.
While there are plenty of articles speculating on the connection between creativity and mental illness, the majority are at least 10, if not 20 (or more) years old. There’s even a book – “Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament” by Kay Redfield Jamison that attempts to connect bipolar with great artists like Van Gogh and Beethoven. However, the book was published in 1996. It makes a good case, but it’s not conclusive.
The pop culture take on it tries to connect diagnosed celebrities such as Catherine Zeta-Jones, Linda Hamilton and Carrie Fisher with public symptoms exhibited by others, such as Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan and Kurt Cobain. They may have a case, but the point is that the connection between madness and creativity is openly acknowledged.
The social assumption that a genius is crazy (or “touched by the Gods”, however you wish to put it) goes back to the dawn of written tradition. There’s been a clinical theory that connects creativity and mental illness for decades. But only in the last 3 years have there been large, comprehensive studies on the connection between bipolar disorder and the so-called “artistic temperament”.
In 2011 there was a study of 300,000 patients diagnosed with either schizophrenia, bipolar or Depression. The results of the study found that there was an “overrepresentation” in creative fields for those diagnosed with either schizophrenia or bipolar, as well as their undiagnosed relatives. Those who suffer from Depression did not, on the whole, feel compelled to go into the arts.
This is a good start. Even better, in 2012 there was a study of one million patients by the Karolinska Institute in Sweden. Their conclusion? “Creativity is closely entwined with mental illness”. My favorite quote: “… the findings suggested disorders should be viewed in a new light and that certain traits might be beneficial or desirable.”
NOW we’re getting somewhere.
In my mind I’m about 15 years behind where I ought to be. Before I was diagnosed I was writing like a fiend, and it was certainly good enough for publication. But my mind was firing without direction, and I couldn’t focus long enough to go through the steps necessary to be published. After my breakdown and subsequent incarceration, I was heavily medicated. I used to call it “being placed in a creative coma”, but in truth it had more in common with a literal coma. Unsure what to do with me, my doctor put me on twelve different medications. Lithium, Geodon, Depakote, Thorozine, Topamax, Paxil, I forget them all. You name it, I took it, frequently combined. I gained 150 pounds, my hair fell out and I sometimes forgot how to blink. I could barely walk, much less write.
It took me 10 years to recover enough to be able to think, and a good deal of that recovery was to get rid of the drugs. I went through a series of doctors, begging to find a less invasive cocktail. One of them said, to my face, “if you’re alive long enough to complain about the side-effects, you’re a success”. That… wasn’t constructive.
It was my OB/GYN who finally cracked the code. She’s the one who figured out the best way to get my symptoms under control while allowing my mind to function. I won’t offer the specific details here for two reasons. 1. I’m not a doctor and offering anything that might be considered medical advice in a blog is a bad idea. 2. We’re all different. Even though it worked well for me, it might not do a thing for you. Sorry about that.
Once the worst of the drugs started to clear my system, a miracle happened. I started writing again. My “voice” came back. Slowly at first, but with growing confidence as the months went by, I regained my former creativity. Bipolar is incurable, as are all the other illnesses I’ve been diagnosed with. I’m still on drugs and always will be. But at the very least I can think again, long enough to pound out a few paragraphs here and there.
That we’re drugging ourselves into oblivion is a given. We’re starting that trend earlier every generation. We’re now diagnosing children as young as age two with bipolar. No doubt I had it since birth. And yes, had I been diagnosed much earlier my life may have been easier. But two years old? Judge Judy notes, with some exasperation, that people aren’t “cooked” until age 18, if then. Giving a child such invasive drugs during (or before) their formative years fills me with an essential horror.
In the article “Soaring Numbers of Children on Powerful Adult Psychiatric Drugs“, Dr. Peter Breggin notes:
“In a comparison between the years 1993-1998 and 2005-2009, prescriptions of antipsychotic drugs for per 100 children (0-13 years old) rose from 0.24 to 1.83. That’s more than a sevenfold increase. Given that most of prescriptions are for the older children in this age range, the rate would be substantially higher among preteens and 13-year-olds. For adolescents (14-20 years old) the increase was nearly fivefold.”
According to the Karolinska Institute, “… disorders should be viewed in a new light and that certain traits might be beneficial or desirable.”
Drugging patients into oblivion is good business for Big Pharma. But what are we sacrificing in the process? How many Van Goghs and Beethovens have been drowned in a sea of Ritalin? I do understand the need for psychiatric care. In fact, it saved my life. But there must be a balance between our “pop-a-pill” social mentality and a creative individual on a destructive mood swing.