At 23, I had my first manic depressive attack. Underwent insulin coma therapy that triggered another cycle of mania and depression that took 8 ECTs at AIIMS to stabilise. Those 8 months were the start of an extremely disruptive ride through life, punctuated every 3 years, with cyclical regularity, by manic depressive swings that ate into the foundations of domesticity. strangely, in the periods in between, one never got around to asking and understanding WHY. Maybe it was the relief of shedding the feeling of uselessness that one was steeped in during the two to three months of each depressive cycle. The need to convince oneself of normalcy and project it. Get caught up in ones activity cycle while attempting to cover up for all the aberrant mis-adventures that one perpetrated during the month or two in a manic state.
Add to that the underlying lack of purpose and ambition and one got rooted, by default into a here and now approach to life. Instinct not thought was the locus for action. A battered psyche's instincts however, primarily steer one to a cocoon of introversion. And the pent up extrovert aspirations get played out when manic.
Despite the intensity and fallout of the first episode, one had no awareness of the disease. Access to the internet was nil in the early '80s. Treatment at AIIMS was OPD assembly line. The stigma of seeing a shrink on a regular basis, even finding one without the world knowing seemed an impossible task. The ones that Arun lined up during each episode tended to be in his area of west Delhi, a long drive from the south where we lived. Net result...regular medication was very erratic all through the 80s and 90s. I was supposed to be on lithium, but he apprehension of facing a chemist and asking for the meds without prescription, or others finding out about them through questions he might ask, always freaked me out. And of course, the lack of reflection on ones situation meant almost a denial of the disease in the periods of normalcy.
Life just went on, with periodic screw-ups (literally!) followed by angst like moments of wanting to kill oneself because one couldn't cope with life, then normalcy again. One roller coaster ride. 'Twas only after I blew a job in Brunei, when in went low immediately after arriving for a short term assignment and blowing it in '92, that the real import and awareness of the disease dawned, through my research about it on the net.
By then the infidelity during the '89 manic episode had rocked the foundations of the marriage. The fact that she was carrying Bay2 at that time really compounded hurt and the insensitivity of the breach of faith. But then feeling was something I never felt. And man! it seemed I was living who I wanted to be while manic. And attractiveness to women was a huge need. Funny there was always one during each manic phase. The king-of-the-world syndrome, tell tale of a bipolar disorder. Its a real high. You feel like you're God's gift to the world. Everything's achievable. This is who you were meant to be! That you are a pain in the butt for the rest of the world doesn't register in your self centric, heightened sensory perceptive world.
God knows where all that energy comes from or goes, briefly surfacing from somewhere within me. No clue at all where that energy comes from. Does though, for a short spell, every three years. I so wish that I could harness the clarity of thought, that revel in those desires for living and the confidence in the ability to fulfill them. Tapping somehow the positives of that font of energy that one desperately wished to believe is me. But then so is the void of uselessness/helplessness that envelops one in a depression, as the tailwind to each manic high. Its all in the brain chemicals they say. Whether its Nature or Nurture is akin to the Chicken or egg debate.
One knows now that, in conventional wisdom terms, one would be seen as an introverted, dull boring, cold, uncaring and uninteresting guy with poor social skills. No guilt or remorse for ones actions since, thought of consequences, never came into the frame ever.
An ability to be doing nothing, and not be bothered being in that state of idleness.Since there's nothing one wants to be doing or feels like doing, until there is some stimulus for some activity. Its a life of reactivity that's explained by the dictum...What is, was meant to be.
A realisation that till I was unaware of my Self, of the true extent and worth of my knowledge, skills and abilities, there was confidence and little self doubt. Seems paradoxical, but its amazing now to realise how easily superficiality could see one through life. Situational intensities fueled by a desire to be recognised, stemming in all probability from my deep seated inferiority complexes, projected an attitude of confidence. Seen as behavior from conviction, especially in an environment of mediocrity of a hierarchy bound organisation. Oh! what a con on myself and the world.
The postures were rarely tested to see how deep below the skin they actually ran. Hence there was no real cause for one to introspect either. The belief that "what you see is what you get" just rubbed off as self image. Sadly there was never any observation and/or reflection on What is or was. Life was all in the here and now, largely instinctive. The basis, top of the head response...
No comments:
Post a Comment