Understanding the Ball of Yarn

June 2, 2013

I posted the following entry originally at the International Bipolar Foundation a few months ago. I found it to be especially appropriate today so I thought I'd share it here. 

Friday night I directed my original play with an audience of 250 people.  It was the culmination of two months of rehearsals and heaps of creative energy, and it was a success!  Saturday I was interviewed by a British filmmaker about mental illness and its affect on families. I told our story.  THE story that brought me here with you. It was gut-wrenching, yet therapeutic.  But now, I'm exhausted.          

I feel like an unraveled ball of yarn.

Those of us with some form of Bipolar, understand how our minds work for the most part. Some of us are gifted with creativity that drives us, especially during manic times. But for those reading this who do not relate, the creative aspect of Bipolar in some of us may be a bit of a mystery.  While there are countless scientific links between creativity and mental illness, specifically Bipolar, I do not intend to cite them here. Instead, I can only speak from my own life experiences, as I am no expert.

I am a teacher, a job which requires a diverse skill set including: content knowledge, compassion, organization, flexibility, and creativity. Beyond teaching, I also write poetry, nonfiction, fiction, and plays; additionally, I compose music and direct musical theater productions as well as plays. These are all outlets for my creativity. They motivate me in all aspects of my life. Teaching, writing, composing, and directing inspire me to wake up in the morning. They are my oxygen.

We creative types understand how this works. Like a colorful ball of yarn, wrapped haphazardly into the most perfect sphere, our creativity can be unraveled into shape after shape, form after form. Unraveling slowly at times, with care and precision, and at other times, rolling at lightning speed down winding flights of stairs; this technicolor orb reshapes itself again and again to bring life to our darkness. The creativity we express is our lifeblood, taking the form of art, music, literature, poetry, theater.

But there is a time to rewrap the yarn. A time to regroup and rejuvenate. After every creative venture, our yarn is strewn across the carpet, sometimes in knots, sometimes frayed, sometimes appearing as though a litter of kittens has toyed with it for hours. We must take our time to rewind it, to reshape it back into the tightly wrapped form where it will lay waiting for a new inspiration. This rewrapping, regrouping time is crucial. For me, it involves rest, solitude, and self-reflection. For those who love us, who yearn to understand us, they should know that once our yarn is unraveled, our creative energies depleted, we need time to begin again. We need time to rewrap our yarn.

The Rock

March 22, 2013
Since my last posting, a lot has transpired.  I've directed a very successful play and my younger son has performed in another one.  Life has been hectic but mostly good.

Unfortunately, not all good.

My older son was told to leave the place he'd been living (with family).  They changed the locks.  The reason:  he'd stolen a credit card from them and used it a few times.  Luckily, the amount wasn't terribly high, but that doesn't matter.  The trust was gone.  Though I wasn't there, I'm told he was very remorseful and promised to pay back all that was owed.  

When given this news, at first, I had that same old familiar feeling of devastation, like I'd been punched in the gut by a heavyweight champion.

But then, surprisingly, something changed inside me.  Instead of falling apart myself, I was able to remain calm, even helpful. I actually consoled the person to whom my son had broken trust and I explained that this was the way his illness is.  This person didn't really understand what Bipolar was until this happened.  Our conversation became more about what Bipolar people choose to do when untreated and less about my son's transgression.  I feel like I actually informed this person and it was understood... moreover, it was accepted.  Something I never thought would happen.

I don't know where my son is at this point.  He randomly posts things on Facebook (yes, we are still "Friends" on Facebook).  But where he's sleeping I do not know.

What I do know is that I am stronger than I thought.  I didn't crumble when I heard about my son's latest episode.  I was the rock that held things together this time.

I was able to use it as a teachable moment for someone who had yet to acknowledge that my son indeed has a mental illness.  While I am still worried for my son's welfare, I do not lie awake each night in terror.  Do I think about him everyday?  Absolutely.  But do I let his choices affect my life with my partner and younger son? No. No, I don't.