I read a book!

    I recently read A First-Rate Madness, by Nassir Ghaemi. It talks about the 'madness' of leaders and the mental illness inherent to greatness. It is a fascinating book. It talks about the mania which leads to resiliency through suffering and a creative thought and vision, and the depression which leads to realistic understanding of problems and empathy toward those around us. It speaks specifically to bi-polar disorder, and more specifically toward bi-polar with a manic baseline.

    That may be why I'm screwed. I don't have a manic baseline to my insanity. My insanity is only second-rate. I don't have enough drive, enough vision, or enough energy to be great. It seems like a lot of work. I've probably had the right vision or inspiration to become great, but then I probably got sidetracked by wanting to understand lightsabers better and spent 3 months reading online about the force and which lightsaber style to use in countering blaster fire, as well as replaying every Star Wars video game in my collection. Although, that likely led to a idea for a Star Wars movie or book that could have lead to my greatness being revealed, except then I started obsessing over something else. Like contemplating infinity. Cantor spent a lifetime on that and drove himself insane through his obsession. I lasted for 3 weeks. Or may I tried again to understand the Higgs-Boson. Or I took another stab at reading the monastics. Or all the Batman comics (Because, say what you will, Damian is the coolest Robin. I shall not be convinced otherwise.).

    What was I talking about again? Oh, right. So, apparently, I'm easily distracted. I'm also easily bored. Most importantly, I lack that beautiful spark of delusional self-importance that can only come from a truly noble mania. A manic mind can assume an entire country's full and unwaivering support should they decide to suddenly run for president and lead the world through the next World War. Possibly, because the world recognizes him as Napoleon. In contrast, a depressed and anxious mind might have difficultly assuming their best friend's loyalty if, say, they took the last slice of pizza when there was a possibility that someone else may possibly have wanted it, as well. They would feel the glares of two thousand eyes upon them, and a thousand minds thinking, "How dare they? There might have been some person who wanted that! I mean, obviously, he's a person, too, but, you know, like, a real person!" Which is kind of an odd thing for a thousand minds to suddenly think at once, let alone voice in a single universal internal monologue without preemptively memorizing that exact wording or having an extertal queue to begin, like someone suddenly inexplicably counting down from three, but then nothing happens after '1' except everyone glaring and thinking the same thought at the same time. All of which would take more planning than anyone would bother with, possibly because it's over a slice of pizza.

    For the record, I understand that I'm a real person. Most of the time. Although, the next time I take a slice of pizza, if someone just said, "3, 2, 1," then everyone glared at me, I'm pretty sure I'd freak out. Of course, I think most people would. Except for manic people. They would interpret the glares as looks of shining admiration, which is my point. I don't have the self confidence to believe that people look to me with admiration and want to follow me. Naive self-importance to the point of self-deception often seems a necessary trait of leadership.

    But, depression has it's place, as well. Like I said, I've read the monastics. I know how many beans makes five. There is a beauty to self-loathing which transends itself into selflessness and other-centeredness. One's lack of esteem for himself can create an amazing love for others, and inspire those around him. The problem is, depression is uniquely paradoxical insofar as it is a self-hatred that is entirely self-obsessed. That should probably be restated more clearly. Probably by someone who is more intelligent than me. Sufficed to say, obsessing over whether you're making other people hate you is a more self-centered activity than it sounds. Pounding that into a form that just wants to love and help and bring peace and happiness is a tricky proposition at best. It also doesn't pay well.

    I don't know how to do that. I did learn one thing over the years. Somewhere in my fear and anxiety, my depression and self-loathing, I learned that hiding it only destroy me, made it harder to go on. So, I attempted something different. I tried to become an open book. If someone asked, I would answer. If someone should know, I would confess. I'm bi-polar. I'm ADD. I have social anxiety. I suck at this. I discovered something. If people are shocked, its because they are surprised how open I am and how well I deal with it, and they see me in a more positive light. They ask questions in order to understand, they make accommedations to help me cope, or they do something else: confess. It turns out, I'm not the only screwed up person in the world. It is the most incredible thing in the world. To be inferior, to be screwed up, to have to confess your lack of strength... and see someone's face light up. Because they are screwed up, inferior, and they lack strength, but they were too ashamed to admit it to anyone before. Maybe it wasn't even them. Maybe it was a child, a spouse, or a friend. Suddenly, we are connected in a strange and powerful way. We know each other and trust each other in a way we never could have before. Weakness is exposed, and there is no shame.

    So, if I get the chance to be great, to become a leader, it will be for that reason. Not because I am arrogant and self-important (although I quite proudly do have my moments), but it will be because I lack strength and am willing to admit it to those around me and let them know me and know my heart.

    But, how many people become leaders? It can't be many. Ten percent? Statistically, that would make 9 followers per leader. Not exactly enough followers to raise up a nation. They could probably start up a small business... No, likely, I'll never be a leader. I'll never become great. In fact, my depression will probably immobilize me. I'll never actually be able to focus. I'll continue to stay in my room as an immature version of a monastic hermit because social anxiety constantly pushes me toward a painful agoraphobic solitude. That is the hard one to confess.

    So, the point. We come to you at last. What is a first-rate madness? Not everyone with bi-polar gets to be Winston Churchill or Abraham Lincoln. Most will never even have a chance. Those who may have a chance at greatness will likely have that potential robbed from them by the same disease that offered it. Likely, I won't even get the chance to become mediocre or second-rate. And that is truly maddening. But, it's not the point. The point is that my madness still shares the same qualities that made those men great. I still have the creativity, the realism, the empathy... and the resiliency. I can still live my life and make an impact. I can accomplish interesting and amazing things, whether they are great or not.