NB: The first three embedded links below are better than my post. Click on them.
Six days later, I completed the first season of Homeland. I am proud and disgusted by this feat. This television show has inspired me to return to this blog and more importantly, to challenge myself to articulate the challenges, joys, and small moments of living successfully and (dare I say it) happily with a mood disorder. These adverbs have been a long time coming, which perhaps is what makes watching Homeland so empowering and vindicating. The Internet is full of haters who claim not to relate with Carrie Mathison (or, for that matter, with Mindy Kaling in her new sitcom, and this is awesome), but I empathize so fully with her that watching Homeland feels self-congratulatory at times. As a teenager, I felt a similar relief/elation/joy/inspiration when I first read "The Namesake" - when Lahiri wrote about the protagonist's wife, I felt that she could have been writing about me. I am self-aggrandizing enough to believe that if I keep writing, someday I can create a Moushimi, or a Carrie, or a Mindy that some bipolar or Indian or smart or chubby or Portland-born or outdoor loving or stubborn or confused or empathic young woman will hold close to and be comforted and think wow, that author knows me. I came this way, and she came this way, too.
I am now hurriedly trying to find a new best friend with Showtime so that I can catch the Season 2 premiere tomorrow. Before that, here are three things I want to see/see more of in the upcoming season:
I want Carrie to get a psychologist. Lots of Internet people think that Carrie's desire and ability to treat her illness solely with family-prescribed medication (or other medical choices) is disingenuous, but I disagree. Many mental health patients go this route. It didn't work for me, and I am happier and more stable with a regimen of talk therapy and lifestyle changes (more on this later), but I don't have a problem with those who pop a pill, feel better, and may or may not deal with consequences of this choice later. However, I would love to see Carrie at least explore the option of non-medical help, particularly because her character is so strong, brave, and independent that I think this would be exceedingly hard for me. I know that it's probably tough for a CIA agent to have a confidential shrink, but the West Wing taught me that it can be done.
I want Carrie's support system to stay awesome. Some of the most beautiful moments of Season One involved Carrie's friends and family and their awesome, confused reactions to her diagnosis; Saul trying to take responsibility for her moods ("No, Saul. I came this way"), her sister's unfailing support and Carrie's acknowledgement of this, Virgil's loyalty and care, everything about her father..... but this is hard for Carrie. It's hard to have people who love her even when she's crazy, and I am sure it will be hard to interact with them when she feels less crazy. I hope that the supporting characters on this show stay supportive, flawed, and brilliantly acted, and that they are recognized as such.
I want Carrie's return to the workplace to suck. Carrie messed up, big time, and I want there to be repercussions with personal and professional relationships at work. Being bipolar sucks. Going crazy at works sucks. Let's talk about it.
Six days later, I completed the first season of Homeland. I am proud and disgusted by this feat. This television show has inspired me to return to this blog and more importantly, to challenge myself to articulate the challenges, joys, and small moments of living successfully and (dare I say it) happily with a mood disorder. These adverbs have been a long time coming, which perhaps is what makes watching Homeland so empowering and vindicating. The Internet is full of haters who claim not to relate with Carrie Mathison (or, for that matter, with Mindy Kaling in her new sitcom, and this is awesome), but I empathize so fully with her that watching Homeland feels self-congratulatory at times. As a teenager, I felt a similar relief/elation/joy/inspiration when I first read "The Namesake" - when Lahiri wrote about the protagonist's wife, I felt that she could have been writing about me. I am self-aggrandizing enough to believe that if I keep writing, someday I can create a Moushimi, or a Carrie, or a Mindy that some bipolar or Indian or smart or chubby or Portland-born or outdoor loving or stubborn or confused or empathic young woman will hold close to and be comforted and think wow, that author knows me. I came this way, and she came this way, too.
I am now hurriedly trying to find a new best friend with Showtime so that I can catch the Season 2 premiere tomorrow. Before that, here are three things I want to see/see more of in the upcoming season:
I want Carrie to get a psychologist. Lots of Internet people think that Carrie's desire and ability to treat her illness solely with family-prescribed medication (or other medical choices) is disingenuous, but I disagree. Many mental health patients go this route. It didn't work for me, and I am happier and more stable with a regimen of talk therapy and lifestyle changes (more on this later), but I don't have a problem with those who pop a pill, feel better, and may or may not deal with consequences of this choice later. However, I would love to see Carrie at least explore the option of non-medical help, particularly because her character is so strong, brave, and independent that I think this would be exceedingly hard for me. I know that it's probably tough for a CIA agent to have a confidential shrink, but the West Wing taught me that it can be done.
I want Carrie's support system to stay awesome. Some of the most beautiful moments of Season One involved Carrie's friends and family and their awesome, confused reactions to her diagnosis; Saul trying to take responsibility for her moods ("No, Saul. I came this way"), her sister's unfailing support and Carrie's acknowledgement of this, Virgil's loyalty and care, everything about her father..... but this is hard for Carrie. It's hard to have people who love her even when she's crazy, and I am sure it will be hard to interact with them when she feels less crazy. I hope that the supporting characters on this show stay supportive, flawed, and brilliantly acted, and that they are recognized as such.
I want Carrie's return to the workplace to suck. Carrie messed up, big time, and I want there to be repercussions with personal and professional relationships at work. Being bipolar sucks. Going crazy at works sucks. Let's talk about it.
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