Homeostasis began as a series of essays Donald wrote while in the throes of mania. We’ve included a few of the publishable ones at the end of the book to provide a look at the manic mind. “Through these pieces I intended to encourage readers to find balance in life,” he says. “Now the story is about how I work to reach my own homeostasis.”
Once Donald agreed to get help for his recent diagnosis of Bipolar 1 Disorder, we both scoured Amazon.com and pushed Google to its limit trying to find credible, useful information about the disease. No health care professional provided much help so we were on our own.
We slowly accumulated a respectable library. (We’ve included a list of our resources at the back of our book.) Some of the books scared the shit out of us; at one point, Donald became despondent over what he perceived his life would now be. Others inspired and offered hope.
Yet, we didn’t find the voice of a young adult male. Nor any perspective from a parent. And so many of the stories we did find provided a look back spanning decades.
We wrote the book that evolved into Homeostasis: The Journey of a Manic Depressive almost in real time. At first, Donald tried to rework his original essays and I cleaned them up. Then his brother made a suggestion that put us on the right path: “Either make this a scientific book – which would be boring – or write your own story. But you can’t do both,” he advised.
So, Donald began writing about his experience. I encouraged him to start with his high school years to provide context for what happened in college and thereafter. He did much of his work as he slid from hypo-mania into the depths of depression. He then invited me to contribute.
“People need to hear about how you see things, how you felt when you tried to get me help, how hard it is,” Donald told me. I agreed. Just like we swapped the books we bought to learn more about Bipolar 1, we exchanged our writing and began to learn more about each other.
Always the editor, I kept tweaking our work as Donald struggled with paralyzing depression. I wasn’t sure what we ultimately would do with our story, but it seemed important to keep writing. Each round revealed a new layer of truth about Donald, and about how I approached guiding him through what he considered to be the biggest blow to his life.
Eventually, thanks to effective integrated treatment (Western AND Eastern practices), Donald began to emerge from his despair and get back to his narrative. What he wrote astounded me:
“I am suicidal every second of every day.”
The words depicting the intensity of his depression shocked me. Here I was living in the same house with him, taking him to all of his appointments with his psychiatrist and therapist, checking in on him every day and I never knew we were so close to losing him.
Fortunately, he couldn’t settle on a method for departure. Thank God we do not own guns. And thank God his psychiatric nurse practitioner referred him to her supervising psychiatrist when I suspected Donald was suicidal but refused hospitalization.
Donald had gone to Boston University and worked summers in that beautiful city. I had no clue about his life beyond what he wanted me to know at the time. Reading his story proved enlightening — and sobering. Likewise, my take on things helped Donald appreciate my role in his new life odyssey.
We began our project in April of 2016, three months after Donald’s initial diagnosis, six weeks after his harrowing midnight trek up Mount Magnificent in Eagle River, Alaska. We approved the final edit in November 2016, soon after Donald could honestly say he felt stable for the first time in years.
Our book served as one form of therapy for us. It deepened our relationship and built a newfound trust for one another. We hope it will serve as a guide of sorts for readers.
At the very least, may we enhance awareness of Bipolar 1 and chip away at the ever-present stigma that surrounds this, and most other mental illnesses.
