On Haldol and Hyacinths

Haldol and Hyacinths:  A Bipolar Life is author Melody Moezzi’s story about being an American Muslim woman with bipolar disorder.  She is only a few years older than I am, and has a dazzling list of accomplishments to her credit:  she is a lawyer and published author whose work has appeared in the New York Times.  She has appeared on CNN and NPR, among many other things.

I read about Haldol and Hyacinths in the Sunday paper, which mentioned that she would be holding a book discussion at a local bookstore in Durham.  Adam and I rode our bikes to the local bookstore to attend a book discussion by a local author!  Please note the excessive use of italics.  They are my attempt to convey how enamored I am of the idea of A) using my bike as a means of transportation to go anywhere other than around the block, B) the excitement and pride I feel about supporting local businesses, and C) the novelty of all of this.  I roll my eyes at myself just a little bit when I do things like this, knowing full well that I am uber-enthusiastic about these kinds of things, which can be a bit much, and that B) will convince me that it is imperative that I purchase a hardcover, first-run printing of the author’s book at the bookstore so that I can have it signed, thank you very much.  Any day I can add to my library is a good day!

Feeling very pleased with myself, I waited for the talk to begin.  I was captivated by Melody and fascinated by her story.  She is obviously highly accomplished, funny, and beautiful, and she is utterly honest, about her diagnosis, her breaks from reality, her experience with medication, her family’s support, and her desire to advocate for those with mental illness.  Including herself. 

Mental illness is so often shrouded in secrecy, colored with shame.  Why should it be so?  There is not the same stigma attached to a broken bone, a cancer diagnosis, or a heart condition.  There are some things we can control as human beings and others that we cannot.  None of us is in perfect health, nor will we ever be so.  Even if we don’t struggle with a chronic condition, we are all affected by things like colds, the flu, and our own journey on the continuum of mental health. 

Why is mental health so often put in a different category than other health concerns?  Melody’s decision to be honest about her diagnosis—when there could have been real consequences regarding her job, her family, her friends, and life as she knew it—is brave and to be commended.  She mentioned that instead of a negative backlash, telling the truth allowed her to be embraced by many people, many of whom told her their own experiences with mental illness.  Melody’s life since “coming out” (as she puts it) as a person with bipolar disorder has changed dramatically—in largely positive ways.  She is now surrounded by a community of people whose lives have also been touched by mental illness, and she can give and receive support from people who she would not have known if she did not take the courageous step of telling her story. 

Thinking about her story makes me remember that all of us have things in our lives that are hard to talk about, but we are more than the difficult things in our lives.  So often, we think that we have to hide the difficult things by pretending that we have it all together.  I’ve talked to enough people now to believe that no one really has it all together.  Someone might have an amazing job, but wish they had a better relationship with their family.  Another person might have a beautiful home but be mortgaged up to their eyeballs to pay for it.  Someone else may have a great marriage but be unable to welcome the children they desperately want into their family.  And so on.  Our lives all positive and not-so-positive, just in different ways.  Melody has bipolar disorder and she is also a talented, funny, compassionate author.  Her honestly enhances, rather than diminishes, who she is.  In many ways, it is Melody’s very vulnerability that causes me to feel so drawn to her.  She says openly what is true of all of us.  We are all flawed and fabulous, we all excel at some things and struggle with others and it can be a liberating, gracious experience to say that out loud.  In admitting the truth, we often find that we are not as alone as we thought, and open ourselves up to a new way of being in the world.  

I know that not everyone feels safe or free to be honest about all of who they are, and I grieve that our world is often not kind to those who struggle or are “different” in some way.  But I lift up the transformative effect that honesty can have on a person’s life and the lives of those around him or her.  Are there things about you or your life that you don’t believe you can be honest about?  Why?  What would happen if you told the truth about who you are or what is going on?  Would it diminish your life—or could it break your life wide open to receive unexpected blessings that you can’t even imagine right now? 

Think about it.  I will, too.