My recovery from Bipolar Disorder has been nothing short of miraculous. On medication without a relapse for almost a quarter of a century, I have had the great fortune to have a career, a family, and a window on the world of mental health. But, it isn’t without its struggles.
In the beginning of my recovery, 12 years into my bipolar disorder, I thought, “If only this would last, I would be saved forever.” And, when success came, I deemed it a gift from the Gods. I thought my ultimate success put me on an endless plateau of well-being. I’ve found, however, attainment isn’t one static thing, but something achieved over and over again. I believed my struggles with mental illness gave me a virtue that inoculated me against future distress, and that God had granted me perpetual triumph. I was wrong.
I found that the attainment of my private practice, which I took as permanent, could be threatened, threatened with loss; and that crises of illness and fear could touch my family. So, once again, I set out on a journey, a journey of living with ambiguity. There is no end to the demons we must slay. To quote T.S. Eliot in the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, “In a minute there is time for decisions and revisions which a moment will reverse.”
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