In my ever excessive internet searching I came across this today:
Why we need more mentally ill leaders
I have already reserved at my library the book the article is referring to, A First-Rate Madness. I find this all very interesting.
I've heard for years about the plight of the mega creative. I've had a pseudo, albeit strange because he's been dead for 123 years, crush on Vincent van Gogh for quite some time. Yes, he was mentally ill.
We like to think [at least I do], and I honestly believe it's true..... Often creative people suffer from depression and other disorders of the mind that help them create. Musicians, artists, etc. But the leaders? The presidents and generals and people at the front of the pack?
A confession: I adore Winston Churchill. Not that I know all that much about him. But I do know this. He navigated the people of Great Britain through World War II. Bombings, threats, attacks, etc. And I recently came to realize he suffered from mental illness. So I reserved one of his biographies too.
Perhaps I'm attracted to the mentally unstable. Maybe we all are. Maybe, as the above article revealed, we need the mentally unstable to lead us.
I suppose I find this interesting because my husband, for much of our married life, has been a leader in various roles. Often in a work related role, sometimes in the community. He has many of what society deems as leadership characteristics. Although, somewhat ironically, I doubt society considers having bipolar as a strength in a leader.
I find this reassuring. It tells me that all of the years spent leading and/or exercising those qualities weren't in vain. He was doing what comes naturally. There's a place for people like my husband, and it might just be at the front, not hiding in the back, ashamed. I think that's good news.
Don't get me wrong, this will not lead me to apply unnecessary expectations and hopes of grandeur. I'm not looking to become the wife of the next manic mayor.
It simply builds my case [purely my opinion, mind you] that those who we label as mentally ill, might just be better suited for living than those we label as healthy.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
who we are
I'm a firm believer we are the products of our environment. While I'm not a doctor or researcher or scientist, my theory is we carry part of our parents inside us. If that's the case, we carry a piece of our grandparents, too. And on back through our lineage. Stuff is passed down, whether cognitively or unbeknownst. At least that's my opinion, whatever it's worth.
My husband's paternal grandpa died today. He was his last remaining grandparent. My husband and this grandpa were not particularly close. Yet, I can't help to think part of the reason my husband is who he is, is because of who his grandfather was.
My husband's relationship with his father is strained, at best. I'm not sure his father realizes it is strained. I find myself blaming his dad for much of the bipolar{ness} my husband faces. Whether that's valid, I don't know. Maybe one has to place blame somewhere, so why not?
Due to the passing of Grandpa, there will be more communication amongst the family. My husband's dad will want to talk, discuss plans, share. And my husband will not want to accept the calls. {His dad lives across the country} My husband will struggle; I won't know how to respond. That's what the next few days will bring. Questions, concerns, etc.
Part of life that most everyone faces at some point, yet it seems so magnified when bipolar comes into play.
My husband's paternal grandpa died today. He was his last remaining grandparent. My husband and this grandpa were not particularly close. Yet, I can't help to think part of the reason my husband is who he is, is because of who his grandfather was.
My husband's relationship with his father is strained, at best. I'm not sure his father realizes it is strained. I find myself blaming his dad for much of the bipolar{ness} my husband faces. Whether that's valid, I don't know. Maybe one has to place blame somewhere, so why not?
Due to the passing of Grandpa, there will be more communication amongst the family. My husband's dad will want to talk, discuss plans, share. And my husband will not want to accept the calls. {His dad lives across the country} My husband will struggle; I won't know how to respond. That's what the next few days will bring. Questions, concerns, etc.
Part of life that most everyone faces at some point, yet it seems so magnified when bipolar comes into play.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
bright
I'm a GOOGLER. Meaning I, throughout the day, when a random question pops into my head..... GOOGLE it.
This afternoon, I got to pondering my husband's recent thoughts about all the jobs he's held [there have been many] and his oft bored-ness at work. He is a fast worker, and quite often finds himself sitting around with little to do. Which led me to think about his many positions, many of which have not required a great deal of intelligence. Oh, many of those hiring him wanted someone who is bright. They insisted they were looking for an organized, Type A, driven person who would not only make changes, but be genuinely ecstatic about making them. Many of his jobs have been in the faith based non-profit sector. He's had many pastoral positions as well as others in the [helping others] field. And no offense to the ministerial types in the crowd, but I've learned through the years, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to preach a sermon, lead worship, serve a meal or hold a canned food drive. Most of the population's straight A students become something else.
Which leads me to the point of this entry. I GOOGLED "intelligence and bipolar" with the offbeat thought that perhaps most of the bipolar crowd is also the straight A crowd. Or those that fall into the above average intelligence crowd. It made sense to me, but, I'm not a therapist or scientist or actual research professional. Here's the first article that came up:
I have not taken the time to read this article in depth. I plan to come back to it. But a brief skim revealed there is a connection. A link between intelligence and bipolar disorder.
I'm sure to some it would seem I'm bragging about my husband and his intellect. I'm really not. I'm being factual. My husband got accepted into the US Naval Academy when it was one of the most difficult schools, if not the most, difficult academic institution to get into. Despite his enjoyment of making people believe he's not very smart, he truly is. And many of his struggles through our years together have had to do with unmet [supposed] potential. Which in my understanding, is typical of the talented.
I will delve into this further. I find it interesting. And if nothing else, I feel it offers some reasoning as to why my husband is bipolar.
This afternoon, I got to pondering my husband's recent thoughts about all the jobs he's held [there have been many] and his oft bored-ness at work. He is a fast worker, and quite often finds himself sitting around with little to do. Which led me to think about his many positions, many of which have not required a great deal of intelligence. Oh, many of those hiring him wanted someone who is bright. They insisted they were looking for an organized, Type A, driven person who would not only make changes, but be genuinely ecstatic about making them. Many of his jobs have been in the faith based non-profit sector. He's had many pastoral positions as well as others in the [helping others] field. And no offense to the ministerial types in the crowd, but I've learned through the years, you don't have to be a rocket scientist to preach a sermon, lead worship, serve a meal or hold a canned food drive. Most of the population's straight A students become something else.
Which leads me to the point of this entry. I GOOGLED "intelligence and bipolar" with the offbeat thought that perhaps most of the bipolar crowd is also the straight A crowd. Or those that fall into the above average intelligence crowd. It made sense to me, but, I'm not a therapist or scientist or actual research professional. Here's the first article that came up:
I have not taken the time to read this article in depth. I plan to come back to it. But a brief skim revealed there is a connection. A link between intelligence and bipolar disorder.
I'm sure to some it would seem I'm bragging about my husband and his intellect. I'm really not. I'm being factual. My husband got accepted into the US Naval Academy when it was one of the most difficult schools, if not the most, difficult academic institution to get into. Despite his enjoyment of making people believe he's not very smart, he truly is. And many of his struggles through our years together have had to do with unmet [supposed] potential. Which in my understanding, is typical of the talented.
I will delve into this further. I find it interesting. And if nothing else, I feel it offers some reasoning as to why my husband is bipolar.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
aging parents
My husband is not much of a comforter. I'm not sure if it's a characteristic of being bipolar. He's quite matter-of-fact, which I think has more to do with his Midwestern childhood and his personality. He's emotional. He frequently cries during movies and tv programs. His love for our children is apparent and obvious. Yet, outside of our immediate family, he doesn't tend to show much sympathy.
Let me get to what I want to get at..... I've reached middle age. My parents have reached their senior years. I realize a call could come at any time with bad news. Or news of the end. A week and a half ago my sister called telling me of a situation with my dad. He's fine now. But he did visit the hospital in an ambulance.
Monday I found out through social media a high school teacher, a peer and acquaintance of my father passed away. A fellow coach; well liked by his students. All too similar to my dad's story. A few months ago the pastor of my home church throughout my teen years died. A friend's dad passed last week.
I continue to hear stories of other dads [and moms] who pass. And it makes me slightly fearful of what it will be like when it happens to my family.
I live far away from my parents. Growing up, my dad was rarely ill. He never took sick days. But now, now he's older and life has caught up. And I realize losing him will be hard and he'll most likely go before my mother because men usually do and he's four years older than her. And I don't know if my husband will be the comfort I will need. I fear I will have to face this somewhat alone.
My husband's relationship with his dad is not good. He doesn't think of his father the way I think of mine. So, while I believe he'll be kind and supportive and drive me to the airport...... I don't know if he will truly understand the loss. Or what I need.
That's really what I hate about bipolar disorder. It robs us of what we need. Because of it, I feel selfish if I desire another response, different from what I get.
So I'm trying to prepare myself, bit by bit. Trying to be ready, just in case something bad happens during a not so good season.
Let me get to what I want to get at..... I've reached middle age. My parents have reached their senior years. I realize a call could come at any time with bad news. Or news of the end. A week and a half ago my sister called telling me of a situation with my dad. He's fine now. But he did visit the hospital in an ambulance.
Monday I found out through social media a high school teacher, a peer and acquaintance of my father passed away. A fellow coach; well liked by his students. All too similar to my dad's story. A few months ago the pastor of my home church throughout my teen years died. A friend's dad passed last week.
I continue to hear stories of other dads [and moms] who pass. And it makes me slightly fearful of what it will be like when it happens to my family.
I live far away from my parents. Growing up, my dad was rarely ill. He never took sick days. But now, now he's older and life has caught up. And I realize losing him will be hard and he'll most likely go before my mother because men usually do and he's four years older than her. And I don't know if my husband will be the comfort I will need. I fear I will have to face this somewhat alone.
My husband's relationship with his dad is not good. He doesn't think of his father the way I think of mine. So, while I believe he'll be kind and supportive and drive me to the airport...... I don't know if he will truly understand the loss. Or what I need.
That's really what I hate about bipolar disorder. It robs us of what we need. Because of it, I feel selfish if I desire another response, different from what I get.
So I'm trying to prepare myself, bit by bit. Trying to be ready, just in case something bad happens during a not so good season.
Monday, February 4, 2013
if you leave
I loved that song in high school. It's one of my favorite's from the 1980s. Since my last entry was a song title, why not this one?
In actuality, I chose "if you leave" because lately I've been thinking about that very thing. What if my husband leaves?
Two years ago at this time, we were in the process of selling a home and buying another. We were moving across town, and in many ways starting a new chapter in our lives.
I remember the morning. We'd already packed most of our furniture into a POD. We'd boxed nearly everything else. We awoke and my husband announced he'd had enough. He was done. It hit me somewhat out of the blue. It probably shouldn't have, as we'd been through a similar situation on Christmas Eve, just about a month before.
An announcement that our marriage was over. He was headed someplace else. Whether figuratively or literally, I wasn't sure.
Thankfully, both of these instances lasted less than a day. He spoke to someone who helped him see things a bit more clearly. He realized the enormity of what he was thinking about.
But the emotional toll on me was huge. I tend to piece myself together, to move on, to simply be thankful we got through the rough day. And I now find myself wondering if it will happen again. If he will truly leave. Move out, escape, buy a ticket across the world. Find someone else.
Realistically, I know this is a slim possibility. These episodes happened before he was diagnosed as bipolar. We better know what to look for now. He has professionals he can call or meet with. It's not just me and whoever I can get on the phone.
Yet it can be so frightenly difficult, wondering if a morning will begin with normalcy. Or with a, "I'll pack a bag at lunch. I won't be here when you get home from work."
It's not that I constantly dwell on this. I suppose it's mainly the time of year. An anniversary of sorts. Two years removed from the last worst day.
In actuality, I chose "if you leave" because lately I've been thinking about that very thing. What if my husband leaves?
Two years ago at this time, we were in the process of selling a home and buying another. We were moving across town, and in many ways starting a new chapter in our lives.
I remember the morning. We'd already packed most of our furniture into a POD. We'd boxed nearly everything else. We awoke and my husband announced he'd had enough. He was done. It hit me somewhat out of the blue. It probably shouldn't have, as we'd been through a similar situation on Christmas Eve, just about a month before.
An announcement that our marriage was over. He was headed someplace else. Whether figuratively or literally, I wasn't sure.
Thankfully, both of these instances lasted less than a day. He spoke to someone who helped him see things a bit more clearly. He realized the enormity of what he was thinking about.
But the emotional toll on me was huge. I tend to piece myself together, to move on, to simply be thankful we got through the rough day. And I now find myself wondering if it will happen again. If he will truly leave. Move out, escape, buy a ticket across the world. Find someone else.
Realistically, I know this is a slim possibility. These episodes happened before he was diagnosed as bipolar. We better know what to look for now. He has professionals he can call or meet with. It's not just me and whoever I can get on the phone.
Yet it can be so frightenly difficult, wondering if a morning will begin with normalcy. Or with a, "I'll pack a bag at lunch. I won't be here when you get home from work."
It's not that I constantly dwell on this. I suppose it's mainly the time of year. An anniversary of sorts. Two years removed from the last worst day.
Friday, January 25, 2013
losing religion/gaining it too
I recently came across this:
It's a video of REM's song, Losing My Religion, done in a major key, as opposed to the minor the original was done in. While the song is not technically about losing one's religion, or even religious beliefs, it did bring to mind the changes my husband and I have faced worship-wise since he was diagnosed.
These people who obviously have a great deal of time on their hands have taken the sad, melancholy type sound of the original song and made it perkier, so to speak. Honestly, I really like the first one the best, but stick with me. The point I'm trying to make is that we (my husband and I) for years and years were part of a worship system that said we must be happy, we must be relational, we must reach out to others, despite our own personal situation. We were leaders in that type of setting. We were preachers really, my husband literally, me figuratively, in a system that conveyed "in with the new, out with the old". As in practices. As in routine. As in hymn singing and mundane, rote liturgy. A movement of people supposedly called to take the old, minor sounding routine and make it into something new and vibrant.
Then, almost suddenly for me, I came to realize that dark, rock show worship services with forceful worship leaders and driving drums wasn't really what was best for my husband. Sure, on some days it was fine. But if he enters a worship center with an already existing headache, which for him is common, the flashing lights and booming sound is not the best recipe for successful, heart felt worship. Today's church is so focused on the emotional. Worship leaders and pastors push people to some experiential happening. Then they wrap it up and send folks on their way.
My husband and I have ventured away form this type of worship. We've begun meeting as a family in our home on Sundays. Just my husband, me and our two teenagers. We vary what we do a bit, depending on the season and the week.
Sometimes we attend a downtown Episcopal church. It's quite different of an environment than we grew up in or have previously been a part of as adults. It offers a routine though, which seems good for my husband. There are no surprises. It's all laid out there on the program. Same order, every week. No one lays their hands on us. No one yells or tries to conjure up anything.
I like that this particular church is light and bright, not dark. It looks like a church. While I'm there, I can focus on being there. To me, it conveys the light of Christ and I never feel like we're focusing on one person or speaker, but on scripture and God.
I find it difficult to discuss our current "religious experience" though. Just today, two coworkers at different times asked me where we were attending. Working in a Christian organization tends to lend itself to these discussions. My reply was met enthusiastically by one coworker. The other gave me the sense he thought we were off kilter. If he only knew.......
Honestly, I could write for hours on our past church experiences: the good/bad/ugly. But right now, at this time in our lives, what we're doing is working for us and we're comfortable. I wish I could be more secure in that. I wish others (coworkers/family/etc) were more accepting.
Before the bipolar diagnosis, I'd never considered that modern worship wasn't necessarily the best scenario for everyone. Not to mention, I'm learning that for me, an introvert, the way I've experienced church in the past has left me unhappy, uncomfortable and feeling like I didn't measure up. I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind.
It's a video of REM's song, Losing My Religion, done in a major key, as opposed to the minor the original was done in. While the song is not technically about losing one's religion, or even religious beliefs, it did bring to mind the changes my husband and I have faced worship-wise since he was diagnosed.
These people who obviously have a great deal of time on their hands have taken the sad, melancholy type sound of the original song and made it perkier, so to speak. Honestly, I really like the first one the best, but stick with me. The point I'm trying to make is that we (my husband and I) for years and years were part of a worship system that said we must be happy, we must be relational, we must reach out to others, despite our own personal situation. We were leaders in that type of setting. We were preachers really, my husband literally, me figuratively, in a system that conveyed "in with the new, out with the old". As in practices. As in routine. As in hymn singing and mundane, rote liturgy. A movement of people supposedly called to take the old, minor sounding routine and make it into something new and vibrant.
Then, almost suddenly for me, I came to realize that dark, rock show worship services with forceful worship leaders and driving drums wasn't really what was best for my husband. Sure, on some days it was fine. But if he enters a worship center with an already existing headache, which for him is common, the flashing lights and booming sound is not the best recipe for successful, heart felt worship. Today's church is so focused on the emotional. Worship leaders and pastors push people to some experiential happening. Then they wrap it up and send folks on their way.
My husband and I have ventured away form this type of worship. We've begun meeting as a family in our home on Sundays. Just my husband, me and our two teenagers. We vary what we do a bit, depending on the season and the week.
Sometimes we attend a downtown Episcopal church. It's quite different of an environment than we grew up in or have previously been a part of as adults. It offers a routine though, which seems good for my husband. There are no surprises. It's all laid out there on the program. Same order, every week. No one lays their hands on us. No one yells or tries to conjure up anything.
I like that this particular church is light and bright, not dark. It looks like a church. While I'm there, I can focus on being there. To me, it conveys the light of Christ and I never feel like we're focusing on one person or speaker, but on scripture and God.
I find it difficult to discuss our current "religious experience" though. Just today, two coworkers at different times asked me where we were attending. Working in a Christian organization tends to lend itself to these discussions. My reply was met enthusiastically by one coworker. The other gave me the sense he thought we were off kilter. If he only knew.......
Honestly, I could write for hours on our past church experiences: the good/bad/ugly. But right now, at this time in our lives, what we're doing is working for us and we're comfortable. I wish I could be more secure in that. I wish others (coworkers/family/etc) were more accepting.
Before the bipolar diagnosis, I'd never considered that modern worship wasn't necessarily the best scenario for everyone. Not to mention, I'm learning that for me, an introvert, the way I've experienced church in the past has left me unhappy, uncomfortable and feeling like I didn't measure up. I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
empathy
I've heard this woman described before and she came up again in a meeting conversation. I work with people who work with families of high need kids. I don't get a lot of contact with the families, due to my position, but I feel like I know many of them in an acquaintance type way due to all that I hear about them.
The woman whose issues were deliberated on today is, from what I gather (and mind you I'm far from an expert), mentally unstable. There's more to it than selfishness or bad parenting skills. She is certifiably in need. Or at least that's my opinion.
I realize we live in a world where a lot of people are just plain mean. A lot of mothers are horrific at mothering and don't give a flying rat's ass about their kids. But, I want to give this woman the benefit of the doubt and imagine she simply needs a doctor. She doesn't have the money or the means or probably the desire to visit a psychologist or counselor who could steer her in the right direction.
What gets me is there are probably many, as in an unfathomable number, of women and men facing this same type of scenario. They're in a crappy domestic situation. Their childhood maybe wasn't so lovely. They have no one to rely on. And they might not even have a clue that what they're feeling is an abnormality that can be helped.
During the meeting, part of me wanted to interrupt and say something to the effect of:
"Friends, this may come as a surprise, but someone close to me is bipolar and I think this woman that we're discussing just might be too. Or have some sort of manic issue or at least a good reason to get checked out. How can we help get her to that point? Sure, we care about her kids. Sure, she seems mega selfish and sinful and ridiculous. But, we don't know exactly what's going on inside her head."
I didn't say that. And I don't regret not saying it, because I'm not certain it was the correct thing to say. But I do wish there was more hope for people.
The woman whose issues were deliberated on today is, from what I gather (and mind you I'm far from an expert), mentally unstable. There's more to it than selfishness or bad parenting skills. She is certifiably in need. Or at least that's my opinion.
I realize we live in a world where a lot of people are just plain mean. A lot of mothers are horrific at mothering and don't give a flying rat's ass about their kids. But, I want to give this woman the benefit of the doubt and imagine she simply needs a doctor. She doesn't have the money or the means or probably the desire to visit a psychologist or counselor who could steer her in the right direction.
What gets me is there are probably many, as in an unfathomable number, of women and men facing this same type of scenario. They're in a crappy domestic situation. Their childhood maybe wasn't so lovely. They have no one to rely on. And they might not even have a clue that what they're feeling is an abnormality that can be helped.
During the meeting, part of me wanted to interrupt and say something to the effect of:
"Friends, this may come as a surprise, but someone close to me is bipolar and I think this woman that we're discussing just might be too. Or have some sort of manic issue or at least a good reason to get checked out. How can we help get her to that point? Sure, we care about her kids. Sure, she seems mega selfish and sinful and ridiculous. But, we don't know exactly what's going on inside her head."
I didn't say that. And I don't regret not saying it, because I'm not certain it was the correct thing to say. But I do wish there was more hope for people.
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