Monday, June 25, 2007

Jamison: "An Unquiet Mind"


Kay Redfield Jamison is a leading scholar on manic-depressive illness (she prefers the term "manic-depressive disorder" over the now-used "bipolar disorder") who is a professor of psychiatry at Johns Hopkins University after working at UCLA. What makes Jamison unique is that she is not only a top-notch scholar, but she herself suffers from manic-depression and this book is her personal memoir. She blends personal narratives with clinical insight, comfortably weaving between the academic and the intimate. It's a wonderful piece of work, and an instrumental resource in the literature. I'm not sure how many families will find solace from a psychopathology textbook; I am certain many have found solace from this harrowing account offering both honesty and hope.

For those who live with manic-depressive illness, there is a sense that life is real. There are real highs and real lows, inextricably linked because one inevitably follows the other. Jamison writes with striking poignancy as she describes the depths of depression and the elations of mania. She describes the constant battle of daily medication (for her and most other manic-depressives, lithium) as well as the challenge of self-disclosure to faculty, colleagues, lovers. Some handle the disclosure beautifully, while others never get past the stigma so often associated with mental illness. And yet, although there is a certain stigma, she does not shy away from the beauty that can be found in the convoluted basin of mental illness: "Manic-depression is a disease that both kills and gives life. Fire, by its nature, both creates and destroys" (p. 123).

In the Epilogue of the book, Jamison explores "whether, given the choice, I would choose to have manic-depressive illness" (p. 217). There are many reasons why she would not, particularly if lithium or other medications were unavailable or unhelpful. And while I do not in any way wish to downplay the seriousness, pain, and challenge associated with any mental illness, I find Jamison's hopeful conclusion and introspective acceptance (gratitude?) ridiculously beautiful. Jamison, after all, is not only a Professor of Psychiatry, but also Honorary Professor of English at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland:

"So why would I want anything to do with this illness [after listing reasons why she would not choose to be manic-depressive]? Because I honestly believe that as a result of it I have felt of it I have felt more things, more deeply; had more experiences, more intently; loved more, and been more loved; laughed more often for having cried more often; appreciated more the springs, for all the winters; worm death 'as close as dungarees,' appreciated it--and life--more; seen the finest and the most terrible in people, and slowly learned the values of caring, loyalty, and seeing things through. I have seen the breadth and depth and width of my mind and heart and seen how frail they both are, and how ultimately unknowable they both are..." (p. 218).

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