Hello readers - sorry about the hiatus! I could apologize for it or make excuses, but I would rather move along and write about Homeland, the amazing Showtime drama that just won a couple Emmys and appears poised to help me ruin my GPA over the next nine weeks.
As I've previously discussed, mentally ill characters are often marginalized, ridiculed, grossly stereotyped or just plain mischaracterized in the name of entertainment (see: some, but not all, Law and Order characterizations, A Beautiful Mind, etc). I expected the main character to be overly moody, dramatic, and devastatingly broken and sexy and appealing because of her tragic flaws. I expected to feel weirdly guilty that my bipolar disorder isn't as beautiful, heartbreaking, and dependent as hers and also hugely defensive of the character and her ignored, omitted struggles. My expectations were wrong.
I have watched the first several episodes now, and I relate to the character in tragic, mundane, and empowering ways. This character is well-written, realistic, fully rounded, and brilliantly acted. I cringed with familiarity at a million small, difficult moments: the moment she is forced to disclose her illness to a coworker, the awkward, painful, loving family dynamics, the suboptimal, self destructive stress responses. Carrie (the bipolar agent)'s illness and personality sometimes stand in her way, but - and this is revolutionary - they sometimes help her excel.
In an early scene, Carrie seeks sexual gratification to relieve her symptoms and stress, but in a hypomanic moment, pieces together many seemingly unrelated experiences and facts and reaches a revelation about her target. Her hypomania empowered her to consider evidence in a non-linear, unconventional, brilliant manner that facilitated professional success. Throughout the show, her easy-access emotions are portrayed not only as a vulnerability, but sometimes as a strength that allows her to interact better with her assets, targets, coworkers, and friends.
In my past and current professional life and in reflecting on my future, I am frequently reminded of the liabilities of my diagnosis. Recently, though, I have started to embrace its advantages. I relate instantly and with a surprising lack of pain to mentally ill patients and friends and handle crises adeptly and resolutely. I know a lot about a lot of resources and therapies for the mentally ill. Some very scary emergencies are more familiar to me than to most people. Like Carrie's, my illness often makes me worse at life, but it also makes me better at my job.
I'm nervous to keep watching Homeland because of the controversial Season One finale, but I am going to stick with it for two simple reasons. First, Claire Danes often looks like I feel, only whiter, skinnier, and hotter. Second, it's great, addictive television.
More to come......
As I've previously discussed, mentally ill characters are often marginalized, ridiculed, grossly stereotyped or just plain mischaracterized in the name of entertainment (see: some, but not all, Law and Order characterizations, A Beautiful Mind, etc). I expected the main character to be overly moody, dramatic, and devastatingly broken and sexy and appealing because of her tragic flaws. I expected to feel weirdly guilty that my bipolar disorder isn't as beautiful, heartbreaking, and dependent as hers and also hugely defensive of the character and her ignored, omitted struggles. My expectations were wrong.
I have watched the first several episodes now, and I relate to the character in tragic, mundane, and empowering ways. This character is well-written, realistic, fully rounded, and brilliantly acted. I cringed with familiarity at a million small, difficult moments: the moment she is forced to disclose her illness to a coworker, the awkward, painful, loving family dynamics, the suboptimal, self destructive stress responses. Carrie (the bipolar agent)'s illness and personality sometimes stand in her way, but - and this is revolutionary - they sometimes help her excel.
In an early scene, Carrie seeks sexual gratification to relieve her symptoms and stress, but in a hypomanic moment, pieces together many seemingly unrelated experiences and facts and reaches a revelation about her target. Her hypomania empowered her to consider evidence in a non-linear, unconventional, brilliant manner that facilitated professional success. Throughout the show, her easy-access emotions are portrayed not only as a vulnerability, but sometimes as a strength that allows her to interact better with her assets, targets, coworkers, and friends.
In my past and current professional life and in reflecting on my future, I am frequently reminded of the liabilities of my diagnosis. Recently, though, I have started to embrace its advantages. I relate instantly and with a surprising lack of pain to mentally ill patients and friends and handle crises adeptly and resolutely. I know a lot about a lot of resources and therapies for the mentally ill. Some very scary emergencies are more familiar to me than to most people. Like Carrie's, my illness often makes me worse at life, but it also makes me better at my job.
I'm nervous to keep watching Homeland because of the controversial Season One finale, but I am going to stick with it for two simple reasons. First, Claire Danes often looks like I feel, only whiter, skinnier, and hotter. Second, it's great, addictive television.
More to come......
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