In search of a quiet, steady mind
Finding tools to prevent psychological relapse is an ongoing but essential process in quest to cope
Sometimes it’s just a muted dial tone that hums on for weeks and everything is murky yellow. Sometimes it’s just a few days of feeling you should sit at your desk and cry a little. “Shouts and Murmurs” in the New Yorker is particularly funny this week: read it. What about that map you have in your head at all times showing where all the liquor stores are in Toronto? Feeling OK. Not at all. Let’s have a cigarette. Suddenly better now! Almost ecstatic.
Welcome to my brain. It’s like this once in a while, but when it gets this way, I get scared. I dread the next time. In between, that fear is always in the back of my mind — and no, I don’t want a lobotomy — but I dream about consistency and quietness that won’t suddenly turn into boredom and then into a full-blown maze of back-andforth between happy and unhappy, craving and not craving self-destruction.
I dream of having more tools that will help me to not be so afraid and to take care of myself in a way that will prepare me for the worst.
Craig Currah, a recreationist and caseworker at CAMH, says “The fear of a relapse can be debilitating for some people, and this agony can really show how meaningful engagement — even when it’s a struggle to do so, even when our motivation is dragging — can lift us and help us to cope, or to take our mind off this worry.”
“And that not knowing which tools (to use), or where the tools even lay, can be part of this struggle.”
Currah works for a program called Partial Hospital Program, which provides an alternative to full hospitalization and offers support and resources to clients as they integrate back into the community.
“We work individually with each client to identify their tools,” he says, “so that their path of wellness is in their hands rather than someone telling them what to do.”
There’s a romantic belief that creative minds such as mine are particularly prone to the sort of noise I have in my head. It dates back to ancient times. According to Plato, “Madness, provided it comes as the gift of heaven, is the channel by which we receive the greatest blessings . . . the men of old who gave things their names saw no disgrace or reproach in madness; otherwise they would not have connected it with the name of the noblest of arts, the art of discerning the future, and called it the manic art.”
But the scientific evidence of that is kind of weak. For example, one meta—analysis study, “Creativity and Mental Illness: Is There a Link?” by Charlotte Waddell, found that “of 29 studies that evaluated possible associations between creativity and mental illness, 15 found no evidence to link creativity and mental illness, nine found positive evidence, and five had unclear findings.”
Mental illness is an equal-opportunity offender, creative minds or no. And there’s a way to deal with the anxiety that comes between flareups. Medication is one way of ensuring that there will be some equilibrium at all times. I take lamictal for my Bipolar II and, over the years, I’ve found that the noise in my head has indeed lessened (it’s also been proven that it won’t dull the creative drive). Then there’s talk therapy. Another one — and stop me if you’ve heard this one — is exercise! I’m no gym fanatic but I’ve found 30 minutes a day on a stationary bike is better than clonazepam.
A study called “The Relation of Physical Activity and Exercise to Mental Health” by C. Barr Taylor et al. found that physical activity allevi- ates symptoms of mild-to-moderate depression, improves confidence and social skills, and reduces symptoms of anxiety.
It also positively alters aspects of the stress response in so-called Type A individuals, those multi-tasking workaholics who sometimes describe themselves as stress junkies. Finally, there is some evidence that “physical activity and exercise might provide a beneficial adjunct to alcohol and other substance-abuse programs.”
Currah agrees. “We see that the largest gains in fitness can come from the smallest changes,” he says, “so even 20 minutes a day can have a significant impact.”
“We work individually with each client to identify their tools, so that their path of wellness is in their hands.” CRAIG CURRAH CASE WORKER, CAMH
He identifies other strategies such as setting small, achievable goals. “Planning and a routine can also help us manage the daily chaos,” he says. “A pet can be a source of joy and unconditional love; a walk can be a commune with our higher power; a bath can be a source of replenishment and time for repose. We need to allow ourselves to experience all the great and the small pieces of life.”
I won’t lie. I want things to be big and exciting all the time, but that is also the danger zone for me, where I can suddenly overdo on just about anything. Boredom is a killer, but dialing back can stop me from actually dying. The secret ingredient to peace of mind is, essentially, knowing yourself well enough to catch yourself before falling and — as cheesy as it sounds — taking it one step at a time.
Wait for the brain to finish its chatter, distract it with small, loving things. “Knowing our triggers, being kind and gentle with ourselves can help us when the journey yawns widely in front of us, seeming long and distant,” says Currah. Jowita Bydlowska is the author of Drunk Mom, a memoir. She is writing a series of columns on mental health.