The Connection between Mental Ilness and Creativity

Every year in the mail I receive a flyer advertising a conference for mental health professionals with the theme “Creativity & Madness.” The breakout sessions have titles such as “Paul Simon: A Study of Depression & Creativity,” “William James in Search of His Soul” and “Mourning and Creativity in Therapy.”

Each year due to financial and time constraints, I have to decline. Perhaps one year I will be able to attend. I don’t like to use the term madness to apply to myself and the course of my illness. That term conjures up images of asylums hidden behind the shadows and lobotomies.

In a group therapy session during one of my revolving door episodes of hospitalizations, a therapist, a man who I had admired and respected, referred to me as a professional patient. I was hurt, humiliated and ashamed, but I kept quiet because I knew it was true.

When I was discharged and stable I registered for a memoir writing class at a local writing center. I don’t know what prompted me to do this; all that I had written up until that point had been papers for graduate school. I wrote with brutal honesty about the reality that was slamming me at the moment — my illness, specifically the anorexia.

I was fortunate to have an experienced and supportive instructor; she and my classmates gave me a great deal of constructive criticism. My essay grew and took shape each week with persistence and hard work. When an anthology with the theme of illness and healing called for submissions, my instructor encouraged me to enter and the editors selected my essay as one of the works to be included! I was proud, but did not yet dare call myself a writer.

I did not know it at the time, but I had found something that would eventually refute the label of professional patient, something that would replace the all-consuming identity I had created for myself as an ill person. I didn’t keep statistics, but it seemed that as my publication acceptances increased, my admissions to the hospital decreased until there were none.

I recognized and continue to appreciate how lucky I am to have discovered my passion for writing. When I sit down at my computer and start to write, I don’t take my eyes off the screen for hours. Time is lost as I become engrossed in this endeavor. Creating something from nothing is an incredible thrill, one that does not diminish whenever I set out to begin a new piece. I start, I may stumble and struggle, discard a draft or two, but I persevere.

I encourage my patients to flex their creative muscle, be it with writing, art or music. Until I ran out of them, I gave my patients the extra journals I had accumulated along with an article I had printed out espousing the benefits of keeping a journal. I also handed out a couple of unlined sketchbooks and some colored pencils to those who said drawing seemed more appealing.

Some of my patients told me that they tried these new creative endeavors and some I imagine just put it aside for I never heard about it from them. That’s okay. It’s not for everyone; people have to find their own way. My idea was merely a suggestion.

I fervently wish I was able to communicate, without disclosing about my history of mental illness and that I am a writer, how exercising the creative inclination, the creative inspiration has worked so well for me. I long to say to each one of my patients, “Don’t let your identity be caught up in being ill. Find a different, another part of you to supersede the one that is the patient.” But that is not feasible right now.

My passions and inner conflicts continue to be revealed in my work. I thought I struggled with different conflicts than many, but when I tell my story at readings, a large portion of the audience comes up to me afterwards and tell me the stories of their sisters, their mothers and their aunts.

Pain and turmoil don’t always have to result in disability and disease. If we work long and hard enough the distress can lead us to one of those triumphs of the human spirit. That triumph that we have come to call creativity.