via the smussyolay

so ... i left the book club sort of hanging. if anyone is interested, we'll interrupt the regular order to get on board with a bunch of people who are taking the summer to jump on a huge task of reading david foster wallace's infinite jest.

i've heard about this book forever, both pro and con, and i've always meant to at least give it a try. so, if you're in, i'm in and there's a LOT of other people who are in as well. we can limit our own discussions to have a mini chat at the smussyolay book club, but there's going to be a HUGE discussion over here.

you can also follow them on twitter: http://twitter.com/infinitesummer

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.

an introduction that is an epilogue. or vice versa.

these pages are the last pages of the book "detour: my bipolar road trip in 4-D" but as far as i'm concerned, they are an introduction to the world of someone living with manic-depression. i'm not even sure who read this book, aside from me, and probably jezzie, who picked the book. however, it was a very fast read, and i made notes of the pages i wanted to comment on. if none of you read the book, you can feel free to comment on what i decide to talk about. it definitely served as a help to help me look back on the month of january, which i always struggle with, and which i struggled with this year as well. however, this year i also had a crisis of conscience or mid-life crisis or something, as i wondered if i'd always live life alone and if this disease was part of the reason i'd do so. anyway, let me give you these last pages as a way to continue to introduce you to this disease if you haven't been reading 'the smussyolay,' or if i don't do such a good job when i decide to blog about manic-depression when i'm in a depression.

"Everybody I interviewed for this book is diagnosed with bipolar affective disorder, between the ages of 16 and 35, on medicine, and highly functional in society ...

Everybody has stories about being dangerously violent or insomniac or paranoid or immobile. Everybody has takes of being reckless with shopping, or sex, or drugging or whatever. Some of us have memories of all these things.

Most of us have been superhuman: seen things, done things, made things, achieved things no regular person could do. Everybody has had some other horrible traumatic events happen.

Everybody has lost faith in everything they thought was sacred, and then regained it in a new, more informed way.

Everybody wishes someone were to blame for this.

Everybody has stories about alienating their friends.

Everybody has stories about exhausting their parents.

Everybody has somebody who loved them unconditionally through the whole damn mess.

Everybody has stories about being misdiagnosed, mistreated, misunderstood, and disrespected by the medical community.

Everybody has spent long stretches of time as zombies waiting for medicine to work. Most of us has been good sports about humiliating side effects like weight gain, bed-wetting, and drooling.

Everybody experienced a time when it didn't look as if they were gonna make it. Everybody did make it.

Everybody feels lucky to be alive. Everybody has survived an illness that is often fatal.

Everybody in this book as said in some way, "Hell no, I'm not gonna sit on a couch and cope. I'm gonna get out there and rock the mic."

Everybody feels lonely, but everybody isolates themselves. They always have, and they still do.

Everybody feels alone, and they're not, but they are.

Everybody has some people they tell and some people they don't tell. Everybody fears stigma.

Everybody self-medicates in some way or another. Everybody did before they were diagnosed and everybody still does.

Everybody has read the same two or three books about this illness, because that's all that's out there.

Everybody is sure he or she experiences existence on a higher level than people without brain problems. Everybody feels anointed, chosen.

Everybody feels they're only halfway to where they want to be. From this group, I believe that everybody's gonna get there they want to go. And far, far beyond.

...we share the same nagging inner voice that wonders: how much of me is me, and how much of me is this illness.

This is our interior, private response to the exterior, public noise of stigma. What does this thing "bipolar" have to do with all that I am and have ever been? What does it mean I will become, now that I am medicated? And what do I have to do with all that they say mentally ill people are?

...Bipolar people need to fight for good health care, accurate information, and proper cultural representation. We need to examine every single way that society's common sense about the mentally ill is affecting us and determining our future.

...We young bipolars, though we may be protected from episodes through meds, we feel with certainty that something has been taken from us. But when we investigate our memories of mania and depression, when we look back to see just how and just when and just who -- where, even -- we, are, tumbled into the dryer, wrestling about with other problems, mitigating circumstances, false diagnoses, false memories ... all we want is to look back, to see it clearly, and to find within these recollections clues, directives, evidence that might lend guidance for our present and future investigations.

...We're looking for what's missing. And we were at the scene of the crime when all of the robberies took place, but we are unreliable witnesses. Our memories fail us: another reason to be disappointed in ourselves, another reason to rely on outsiders, another reason to decide for the sake of peace and progress, to stop looking back.

But we must investigate. We must never rest easy, feeling stolen from. There can be justice for us, too. So we must go forward with our investigations, and we must look back: first at our episodes, and then, courageously, at everything else."

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.

Detour

we took a detour with 'i know this much is true' by wally lamb. that is to say it was a long book, and we sort of got lost in it and discussion and busy lives took over and the blog took a brief hiatus/detour.

so, now we're going to take a detour from fiction and go into the world of non-fiction for our next book, picked by commenter jezzie, who comments at the smussyolay.

the book is detour: my bipolar road trip in 4-D by lizzie smith. so, let's have at it, shall we?

and ... go.

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.

Okay, people!

Who finished this book? I had been going through it again, marking off pages of things I wanted to talk about. Where are we all with this? I think we'll pick a new book in January, but I will do my best to get some discussions working before the new year. Talk to me.

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.

The last two chapters have been awesome

I love the chapter describing his trip to New York City. I really relate to his dilemma of trying to develop his own identity and feeling brought down yet a sense of obligation to his sick brother. The contrast between the two of them is amazing, and Thomas is almost an alcoholic. Of course because he's mentally ill, it's not like his own bad choices are causing him to freak out and act inappropriately. But the feelings that Dominick describes are exactly spot on and I have felt that way more than I can even say, not just in dealing with my alcoholic mom, but other using alcoholics and addicts and even just mentally ill people I've known in my life. For the first time in the book when they flashed back to Dominck and Thomas' childhood I didn't feel like it was out of place. This time I appreciated the simple language that Dominick used to tell the story in the first person. It was so relatable. I could physically feel how validated and appreciated he felt when he got positive reinforcement from his otherwise asshole abusive stepfather when the popular cool kid in school invited him over. And I could feel the shameful understanding that that had all come to a screeching halt because Thomas got stuck in the bathroom and created a scene, that the shame and horror of all the classmate's discomfort had rubbed onto Dominick and now he was damaged goods. I remember feeling like that in high school when my sister would act out. I'd made it on my own as a cheerleader and good student. And along came this punk ass rebellious asshole who made it difficult for me because people picked on me about her. I felt loyal to my sister because, well, she's my sister. But I felt very angry and resentful for ... I don't know how to articulate it ... bursting my bubble I guess? I'd created some self esteem, I'd made a life for myself at that school. Then once she showed up on the scene it was like the stink of her bad behavior rubbed off on me or something. That's how Dominick describes his experience in this chapter and it is powerful! Oh and the part where he comes home and can't even give his Ma a positive accounting, and all the souvenirs he'd spent his money on were gone to shit anyway. Brilliant. Flawless. Powerful and moving.

I also love the relationship he's building with the social worker. She is such a bright character in this grim cast. I love her sass and I love how much smarter she is than Dominick. I love how she gives it to him straight and I love that she has his number right off the bat. I adore how she's on his side but does not bullshit him for a second, even calling out his Don Quixote complex. I also love her because she, like me, is 1/2 Jewish and is also an alanon (though she doesn't use that term specifically). She just says she has dealt with addicts in the past and understands how she was just as sick as the addict because of trying to fix manage and control and rescue. LOVE HER! I love that for the first time Dominick as well as us as the reader has some perspective on where his brother is headed. The whole greater political context for Thomas' actions is brought to light, it's positioned as hypothetical, but for me as a reader I finally felt some hope that we're not going to stay in Dominick's flat apartment in his dead relationship or behind the walls of a maximium security sanitarium for the rest of the book. Dominick finally felt like he had some answers and, frankly, I finally felt like I had a reason to keep reading through the end.

I'm having a hard time putting it down at this point. I resented the book at first because it was SO hard for me to get in to and I was so excited about the book club blog and I really wanted to take the action to be part of. But I hated the book so much at first I avoided it unless there was just nothing else to do at all. Now I love it and I can't put it down, except that I have to work and exercise and go to meetings and stuff and I'm resentful that I can't just take a vacation and read. Oh well. We can't always get what we want!

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.

It's starting to get better

Man did I have a hard time following this character! After the whole Nedra Frank debacle he jumped from Dessa to Joy back and forth and I kept getting Joy confused as Nedra Frank. One thing that was a little weird for me is the way Lamb originally described Nedra she was such an ultra uptight nerd that she would never, then, be needy enough to go to a dude's house and drink a bunch of beer with him and then try to schtup him. It seemed like it came out of left field but I'm a well-read enough gal to know that she'll come back into play sooner or later.

I'm just at the point where the brother is in the max security nut house and Dominick is starting to interact with the social worker. Just barely. I can smell a love interest just from her first answering machine message.Overall I am picking up on themes of codependency, overdeveloped sense of responsibility, resentment and forgiveness and getting in touch with your true self. I really relate to this character's overwhelming sense of loneliness and feeling like he's the only person who can get things done. That's what kept me going through some of the harder to read portions ... I really have a hard time relating to some of the young teen scenes when he's such an asshole to his ma. I guess maybe it's not that I have a hard time relating, I just wish he'd stop being such an asshole and it's uncomfortable.

I also find it grim that so much of the story is conducted within the walls of institutions. It's well-written, certainly, because the imagery is telegraphic. Come to think about it there are many gritty images in the story. Ma's hairlip is brought up over and over again and every time it makes my toes cringe. The way Lamb describes the sex with Joy and all of her weirdness is just creepy. I guess that is what makes Lamb a good writer ... I actually feel a fingernail in my mouth when I read stuff like that it's so believeable and real. Yuck. At any rate that's where I'm at with the book. If I didn't have anything else to do in a day I'd be done with it now but unfortunately I've got a job & stuff.

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.

double trouble

i still want to go through the book again and re-read some stuff or something. but for now, i'm going to set out on one of the topics i mentioned in my last post. twins.

it's an interesting phenomenon, to be sure. i always joke that i wanted to be a twin AND left-handed and that i got screwed on both at birth. what an alcoholic i am. but i never have been particularly close to my sister*, and i think i've always been envious of people who have these great best friend-y relationships with their sibling/s.

i guess i've always assumed you naturally get that sort of thing with a twin. i'm sure there are lots of stereotypical disadvantages, but from all the twins i've known and all the media i've read, it just seems like the advantages FAR outweigh the disadvantages.

fraternal twins are interesting enough, but identical twins (like thomas and dominick) hold even more of a magical allure. what would it be like to possibly switch identities with someone? to show up somewhere where others were expecting someone else? to playfully trick people? i don't know. i'm sure it's all fantasy fueled by movies and such. but really, wouldn't that be cool?

as far as this book is concerned, i have to say some of it (?) cut close to the vest. it's weird. in some respects, i acknowledge the fact that i'm "mentally ill," but that it's stabilized. i think of it like cancer in remission, kind of. most of the time, i wouldn't describe myself as 'mentally ill,' but more someone who has a mental illness. even that is pretty stigmatizing, though. but, i do know that manic-depression is a serious 'disorder,' and it can really get in the way of my living.

funny, though, just like people have different ways of making sure they have someone to look down on or be 'better than,' i've always been so glad i'm not ... a schizophrenic. that would be so terrible, i think. but i have to step back and realize that there have got to be plenty of people who are totally happy they aren't me and my head.

anyway, i digress again. i think it's weird that one identical twin could have a mental disorder and the other wouldn't. i mean, aren't their genes exactly the same? i know that circumstances can trigger mental illness sometimes ... do you think that thomas' schizophrenia was brought on by all the abuse he suffered from ray? do you think that dominick escaped it because he was always worrying about everything and had to literally keep his head together?

or is it just random set of fate kind of thing. i'm not sure why dominick *didn't* end up schizo, but i'm convinced that thomas wouldn't have been as bad off if he wasn't tortured so much.

okay, i've gotten off my twin thing. anyway, i can't imagine then if the movie thing is true and you have this great special bond and great secret language and all that sort of thing ... what do you do when one of you is gone? physically, permanently, mentally, temporarily? do you miss a part of yourself? are you glad that a part of you has been set free? or are you horribly sad?

i'm sure it's different with everyone. i think this book did a great job of staying in the gray a lot. it had so many different shades and nuances ... there wasn't a whole lot of room for black and white thinking, and even when i had it (ray is an evil shithole bastard), things tended to soften (ray considers dominick/thomas his kids and he goes to help them when they need it).

okay, enough. someone else should start talking.






*at times, we'd just go months and months without speaking. there was no incident that was a precursor to this; it just was what happened when i lived somewhere else and there was no real reason for me to go home. drinking and drugging commanded all of my free time, and going home to see my parents/family was a real chore. things have changed a lot over the years. i've learned how to be a daughter and really, in the last year or so, i've learned how to be a halfway decent sister. it's funny what a little growing up and some death will do to you. it is in these moments that i have a glimpse of the fact that i might be an 'adult,' and in a good way.

there's more ... myay!

now smuss it.