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Sunday, Jan. 11, 2004 - 12:33 a.m. THE UNSEEN Manic depression is rather interesting in how it affects a person’s personality. For instance, I can recall my depressed state before my first diagnosed manic episode in Houston. My therapist had exposed to me something that was obvious yet I had never really thought about before. The concept was the emotional aspect of social behavior. When I went in to talk to him for the first time, I told him that there was two aspects to my life: first, intellectual, which included my ability to finish school, perform at my job, and do the ordinary mundane things a brain must be able to do to survive in the modern world, and second, social, which included those extra things, like being able to talk to people, relate to them, enjoy their company, make friends, fall in love, get married, etc. I told him that I exceeded everyone in the intellectual sphere, but had the maturity of a child in the social sphere. When I used the word “social” to describe the second sphere, he immediately corrected me to say it was “emotional,” and as far as I should be concerned, the two terms ought to be synonymous. Once he linked it with my emotions, this social deficit I had now had a new dimension. The reason for this new dimension was that emotions, both psychologically and psychiatrically, are biological functions subject to whatever law of medical science that governs them. Suddenly, my inability to talk to people, my lack of friends, my lack of ever having had relationships with the opposite sex, all having such an inexplicable impact on my life, all were reduced to a bunch of chemicals moving through my brain. My therapist called my condition "depression." When I could see this concept objectively, I began to question why I would not start a friendly conversation with a stranger sitting next to me. He is there, I would think, so just say hello and talk to him. But I could not. Something was in the way. Something was stopping me. It occurred to me that it was almost as though it was physically impossible for me to start a simple conversation. And when he would turn to talk to me, I would react defensively, as though it were an uncontrollable instinct, to let him know that I did not want to talk to him. This unexplainable unseen force I now knew was the reason for all of my problems. But I did not know what it was. It was a personality forced upon me, yet it was not me. Then I had the experience of my first diagnosed manic episode. The directly opposite behavior occurred. Everyone I saw I had to say hello to. I had to start converstations, ask them about their day, learn about every aspect of their lives, tell them about mine, to the point where it was bothersome to them. My need to talk was uncontrollable. My behavior gained in drama and intensity. I wanted to get close to people and hug them. I spoke fast and could jump from one unrelated thought to another. My memory became photographic. My hunger for knowledge about philosophy, religion, and the arts was overwhelming. I wanted to do so much I had niether the time to do it nor the patience to stay with one thing. It got to the point where I could no longer sleep, as I would constantly have to move around and do something. Even if I wanted to sleep, it was physically impossible. In fact, it got to the point where I could not finish a meal without jumping to do something else. If I had not received that first dose of diazepam from my first psychiatrist, I might have exhausted myself to death. How could this be that a person, so untalkative, so defensive, so emotionally withdrawn, could end up this way? Of course, my diagnosis answers the question. After all, it is nothing a bunch of misfiring chemicals in my brain. But when I look at how few friends I have, I have to continue to wonder if this friendless person is really me. For instance, as in the case of my depressed state, is there still some unseen force preventing me from having all the friends I want? If the tables were turned and I had a slight “manic” edge, would I get all those friends I am so desperately seeking? A girlfriend perhaps? A “normal” social life? My disorder leaves more questions than answers in this area. As I continue to sit here, this lonely Saturday night, all I can do is keep trying to find ways to meet people and make friends. But the truth is that I feel as though I have to operate with one hand tied behind my back. If I find those opportunities, this personality I have is not allowing me to achieve my goals. Sure, I am a friendly guy, but am I capable of making friends rather than just being friendly toward people? What am I not doing that is preventing me from crossing this bridge? Does my emotional sphere currently lack the correct balance of chemicals for me to have a functionally normal social life? I believe I may have come out of that slight depressed funk I have indicated in some of my previous entries. Right now I think I am in kind of a “limbo” state, meaning I am between depression and my next slightly manic phase. Of course, my medication prevents any marked changes in my mood so that I am basically asymptomatic. But I can still feel what is not obvious to the people who observe my behavior for symptoms, no matter how slight it is. And I still have to wonder if those unseen forces are still in control. |