Two More Rants on Mania

Posted on November 8, 2005 in Compassion Mania Responsibility

I
Favors

In 1986, I was driving through San Mateo, California when I ran three stop signs. A cop pulled me over. Perhaps because I was white and wore a suit, he did me a favor: he cited me for only one.

That was a bad stretch of time. I boasted about my “getaway” to friends and, one by one, lost them. I didn’t drink or do drugs, though I don’t doubt that they suspected this of me. I acquired the reputation of being a dangerous person and I entered a period of loneliness.

Today I realize two things: First, those were lousy friends. In the face of my illness, not a one of them confronted me, no one said “Hey Joel, running three stop signs is not healthy. What if you had hit another car? Or another car had hit you?” They just decided that I was too weird to have around. No one asked me to go places with them. No one trusted me or cared about my feelings. So I became isolated.

Second, the cop should have given me a wakeup call. He should have run me through a drug and alcohol test. When that turned up clean (as it would have), I should have been sent to San Mateo General and examined by a psychiatrist. In 1986, I could have been saved years of grief. That doctor could have told me my problem: that I suffered from bipolar disorder and needed to be on medications, eight years before I discovered the half truth that I suffered from depression.

The cop cut me no favor.

II
Neediness

A roommate of mind once nagged me like this: “Joel, you need people.” I was following my dream and studying English Literature at the time, doing what I had always wanted to do with my education. We lived out in the country. I spent most of my free time at the UNC library reading and writing. I never talked to anyone, especially people who felt that they had a right to enter my life and tell me what to do.

I’m a classic giver. Most people I know confirm that. A few aver that that is where I have my strength.

The trouble with being a giver is that you are very good at giving and having friends who need you. The sorrowful part is that you aren’t very good at finding friends who can be there when you need a listening ear. Too many people confuse the mouth and the ear when it comes to being there for another person. They don’t know how to say “I hear you. I feel your pain. Don’t give up.” In my case, I listen to my head and say those things under my breath.