I don't know why I don't write more. Plenty of people have said that I should write or think I have "writer" written all over me. Maybe I do, maybe I don't.
Last night, I finished watching the documentary flick "Far Out Isn't Far Enough: The Tomi Ungerer Story." If you have Netflix, I highly recommend it.
Ungerer had quite a traumatic childhood in Alsace, between France and Germany, in the early 40s, in the middle of Nazi influence and propaganda. I'm not going to go into to much detail about his life because it's well covered by the film and don't want to spoil it.
Basically, Ungerer learned to survive and make his way through life by drawing, but making a place where he could lose himself in the trance of creativity, to "get it out," expurgate. He didn't just survive. He became one of the best children's book illustrators ever known.
This is what I'd like writing to be for me. Why I don't write more, I don't know. I really don't know. Yes, I have a wife and two kids now, a home to take care of, odd jobs to do to pay bills and so on. Those aren't the reasons why I don't write more. Maybe I need to do less Facebook posting and Twittering and more blogging. Probably.
But I think the real reason is fairly simple: depression. Those familiar with bipolar or severe depression know what I'm talking about. Depression stifles activity, creativity, and deadens response to the world outside us. It causes long, blank stares into space at the dinner table. It despairs. It sucks.
So when Ungerer said "Cope, don't hope. And expect the unexpected," it gave me a little spark, a boost, another way of looking at depression.
Being raised a Baptist, it felt like I wasn't allowed to merely cope, but instead had to go through life as if in a parade akin to the last scene of "The Music Man." That everything works out in the end, God takes care of us so DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!!!!, bang your drum, SMILE!!!, and so on.
There are plenty of folks who cherish this outlook on life. I see and meet them all the time: in person, on Facebook and Twitter, in the newspaper, and on TV. Now don't get me wrong, if this helps them with their life, work, and relations, I'm all for it. If it ain't broke...
But me? I'm FUBAR. Don't be misled by what you see on the surface. Bipolar is a monster, a menace, and downright horrible. I wish it on no one. Last summer I (unexpectedly) had to go into a psych hospital for a couple nights, chill out, make sure my meds were straightened out, and that I didn't pose a threat to myself or others. I'm very grateful for my understanding and loving family and friends for helping me through another crisis.
I wish I could be more predictable and consistent in my moods. I wish I could control them more. But I can't. I can only "cope."
And "expect the unexpected."
And that's okay.
Thank, Tomi.
