In this video, I use the film ‘Limitless’ to illustrate some of the clinical issues addressed in this post:
[NOTE: IF YOU HAVE BEEN DIAGNOSED WITH BIPOLAR DISORDER, BEFORE YOU CONSIDER TAKING PSYCHIATRIC MEDICATIONS, PLEASE EDUCATE YOURSELF ON THE DANGERS OF SUCH DRUGS AND LOOK INTO ALTERNATIVE FORMS OF TREATMENT. I've written a series of posts concerning (1) the dubious theory that mental illnesses such as bipolar disorder and bipolar ii disorder result from an imbalance in brain chemistry, (2) the fact that widespread use of antidepressants and other psychiatric medications can be linked to an explosive increase in the length and severity of many mental illnesses, and (3) the false claim that psychiatric drugs correct chemical imbalances in a way analogous to taking insulin for diabetes. Another post discusses the role of psychiatric medication in the increase of the symptoms of bipolar disorder in our culture.]
In an earlier post, I discussed the core problem in bipolar disorder or manic-depressive illness: a feeling that the internal damage is so pervasive that there’s no realistic hope for improvement, leading to a search for “magical” solutions instead. IN this post, I’d like to give a case example, a young man in his 20s who might have been considered “cyclothymic” rather than receiving a full diagnosis of bipolar disorder, though his mood swings demonstrate the same high/low dynamics. If you haven’t read it already, you might want to take a look at my post on hopeless problems and perfect answers before reading on.
Jeffrey was an extremely bright and talented young man, recently graduated from college, who aspired to be a writer. He came to me because of depressive episodes so severe he felt barely able to function. He managed to hold down a clerical job to support himself despite his depression, attempting to write in the evening after work and on weekends. If he were feeling deeply depressed, he couldn’t write a word. After work, he’d often collapse into a state of inertia, barely able to feed himself, watching mindless TV. He suffered from extreme insomnia and often slept but a few hours.
Jeffrey badly wanted to have a relationship but felt completely worthless, as if everything about his adult functioning self was a facade, and that as soon as anyone got close to him, they’d find out he was a fraud. He would describe himself as a loser, “damaged goods,” or “a worthless piece of shit.”
The issue of “shittiness” often came up in our work. He had a recurrent dream that the toilet in his bathroom would back up and his apartment would be flooded with feces. Or sewer pipes in the ceiling would break. In these dreams, he’d feel completely helpless to do anything about the broken plumbing or sewer problem. The damage felt insurmountable. In our work together, I would talk about these dreams in two different ways. The overflowing sewage represented both his “backed up” emotions which he felt unable to tolerate or process, as well as the hopelessness he felt about his internal damage. We returned to this issue again and again, particularly his fear that our work together was pointless because (a) I couldn’t possibly tolerate all his “shitty” feelings either, and (b) the damage was simply too vast.
Periodically, the depression would lift and he’d enter a hyper-industrious phase, writing for many hours at a time and throughout the weekend. He’d come up with a “brilliant” new idea for a novel and write 10, 20 or 30 pages at a time. He wouldn’t stop to reread or revise but simply kept on with a manic drive in the hope of completing the book within a few weeks, selling it to a publisher and advancing to an idealized life in which he’d be a wealthy, famous and critically acclaimed author. He felt increasingly anxious during these periods; although he came to his sessions, he felt difficult to reach and became suspicious and hostile if I tried to examine his drive to write. Eventually the manic phase would pass and he’d slip back into depression, discarding the partial manuscript as “worthless.”
During the manic phase, he clearly felt in the grip of magical thinking; underneath, he feared that he was only passing off shit as if it were something of great value. When he was in his hyperactive writing phase, he unconsciously felt it as a kind of evacuation, too, as if he were magically ridding himself of all the bad intolerable feelings. He couldn’t go back and revisit his work or revise it because to do so might deflate the manic triumph of his creation as well as bring him back into contact with the bad feelings he’d tried to evacuate.
My job was to show him, again and again, that he felt hopeless to do anything realistic to improve, either in terms of his writing or his internal damaged world; only magic could solve his problems. Over and over, we had to return to those shitty bad feelings, try to understand them and help him to tolerate his own emotional experience. It was the work of years. Eventually he completed and sold a novel but continually struggled to wrest his writing from the realm of magic.
Over the years of my practice, many clients have brought in similar dreams — broken sewer pipes, backed up toilets. If you’ve had such dreams, it might concern feelings you find overwhelming and intolerable, emotional sewage you can only hope to evacuate.
Many people have an issue with follow-through, whether it’s in a creative endeavor or something as mundane as housework. Often it’s because they begin in manic states of mind where they intend magically to do everything, all at once. If you have such a problem, it might be a symptom of a larger difficulty, and a fear that nothing realistic can be done — step by step, little by little — about your internal world.
In bipolar disorder, these are the core issues: intolerable emotions and internal damage felt to be so vast you can only hope to evacuate it, and in the process magically turn feces into gold.
UPDATE (April 10, 2013):
I’d like to present some additional clinical material to demonstrate the ways that manic-depressive issues may also arise with clients who would never receive a diagnosis of bipolar disorder or even bipolar ii disorder. In every respect, the client I’m going to describe was high-functioning, dynamic, verbal, intelligent and successful. She had suffered only one depressive episode in her entire life. It occurred about six months before the beginning of treatment when her husband had lost his job, found a new one in a different city and left her behind to take care of selling their house.
Bethany and her husband had lived in that house less than a year and although she had formed no close friendships during that time, she had put down emotional roots and hoped to spend the rest of her life there. Most people in her situation would feel unhappy and quite possibly depressed; Bethany managed to pack up and transfer their household but shortly after arriving in a new and unfamiliar city, she found it almost impossible to function. This depression terrified her. Although she rationally understood it wouldn’t come to pass, she was afraid she’d fall apart and never recover. The acute depressive episode passed after a few weeks and she began to build a life for herself in this unfamiliar place.
Shortly after Bethany and I began working together, she brought me a dream. She was in a car traveling at very high-speed; she wasn’t the driver and didn’t know who was behind the wheel. From behind, a motorcycle began to pursue and catch up with her. She felt threatened by the motorcycle driver, although in her associations to the dream, he reminded her of me. I suggested she was trying desperately to keep “ahead” of something internal — some feelings or memories we didn’t yet know about — and felt threatened that therapy would bring her into contact with those feelings. She accepted this interpretation although it had little effect at the time.
As I came to know my client better, I recognized a pattern in her behavior: she always had a new and exciting project underway. An entrepreneur in her own right, she had started several businesses and continually came up with new ventures and co-ventures. Some were successful; others lost her interest after a month or two and she’d move on to something new. Then, after almost a year in this new town, Bethany’s husband again lost his job and she was faced with the prospect of yet another move. This time, however, she seemed unworried about the prospect. (As we were working by Skype, the end of treatment wasn’t an issue.)
During session, Bethany remarked on this absence of anxiety — it surprised her. Perhaps because she’d already been through a prior move, she had “adapted” and no longer found it a threat. Then, she went on to relate yet another new business scheme that had occurred to her. She was quite tired in that session because she had stayed up half the night developing a new business plan. Normally, she told me, it would take her months to implement such a plan but she felt driven to get this new business going in record time.
I suggested to Bethany that this new project was her way of warding off a whole set of painful emotions about the coming relocation. I reminded her of the dream from months before and also brought up the almost paralyzing depression she’d felt during the last move. Through her manic, sped-up business plan, she was trying to stay “ahead” of her feelings; she was afraid that if they “caught up” with her, they’d overwhelm and immobilize her and she’d never get moving again. I sensed the rise of sadness along with some fear, but her response was short-lived and we came to the end of the session.
I’m sure you can see the similarities between Bethany’s process and Jeffrey’s more serious issues. Even in high functioning clients who would never receive a serious diagnosis, bipolar issues may arise where “manic” or magical solutions are pursued in order to escape depressive feelings that are felt to be unbearable or overwhelming.