Bipolar Illness - Max Bemis" Tools of Combat (Part 1)
Max Bemis, frontsman of "Say Anything," began his battle against bipolar illness about 8 years ago.
This disorder affects almost 1 percent of the American population.
Unchecked it can ruthlessly destroy a person's thoughts, feelings and physical health.
Here is Part 1 of an interview with him, describing life with this illness.
And sharing tricks of the trade with others who are also fighting this battle.
THE DARK DAYS ARE GONE (PART 1) How did you wrap your head around a diagnosis of bipolar disease? Knowing that there was no cure and you would have to take medication the rest of your life? It was a big challenge.
It meant admitting that I was suffering from something I couldn't get rid of.
That it was in my DNA.
And on the other hand, treating it might mean losing facets of my personality.
Maybe even destroy my creativity.
Learning to accept it was a process.
In the beginning I kept going on and off my medication, not because I forgot.
All they asked me to do was not use drugs or smoke pot and take my medication.
The reason I kept stopping was because I thought medicating me was a societal conspiracy to deaden my mind.
It took me awhile to learn was that it was actually the opposite.
I could totally be totally healthy and still be myself.
It must have been incredibly jarring getting out of the hospital and facing the real world for the first time.
How did you adjust? When you first get out it's very alienating.
The first step of recovery is learning to trust your support group.
The illness made me delusional, so it would have been easy for someone like me to believe everyone was against me.
Coming to the realization that there are people out there who are going to support you, no matter what, gives you strength.
It empowers you.
Did you feel pressured to find ways to fit back into society? Wondering if everyone was watching you for signs of "crazy".
That's one thing I didn't worry about.
I didn't feel like I had to live up to anything.
Especially with the people I knew, because they'd witnessed me at my worst.
They weren't about to say, "Hey hurry up and get better already!" But among people I didn't know, it wasn't so much I felt that I needed to make a good impression.
I was just trying to teach myself how not to be so odd.
Along the way I adopted this philosophy.
That if anyone took offense at my weirdness, knowing what I was going through, it was almost funny.
How did you learn to control the tricks your disease played on your head? The negative habits of mind that were still in place? I found that redefining spirituality for myself was a big help.
Whether you want to define it as God or something else.
It took me out of myself and out of my original thoughts and replaced them with thoughts that were truthful and bigger than me.
It was the biggest leap of faith I had to take.
It meant giving up control to a higher power.
Trusting the medication would work and finally accepting that everyone is looking after me It took a long time to get that kind of clarity.
If you are in a manic state, the smallest emotion can lead you to a delusion.
I then would ask myself the tough questions, like are my thoughts true and what is really the root of the matter? What about your relationship with your music and your fans? Has that changed? Music is such a big part of me, it's like an expression of my soul.
When I was sick it was chaotic.
For a while I almost hated music and being a musician.
I thought it was lame and I was a terrible hack.
It's like that when you're ill.
You hate yourself, because everything you're doing instills self-loathing.
Whether its drugs or promiscuity.
So even being a musician, which I loved, seemed dark.
Now that I am healthy and happy the music comes from a different place.
When it came to my fans, being manic didn't allow me to communicate with them very well.
That's changed.
I now feel like I have more of a connection with the people who follow my band, because I put myself out there more and more.
How about the creative process? It's not that I'm practicing my art any differently; it just comes from a different place.
I can practice for longer amounts of time now without burning out.
When I made "..
..
is a real boy," I completely burned myself out.
The mania had taken over and compelled me to keep rewriting and rerecording it, not knowing when to stop.
Not knowing when to retreat.
Mania makes you obsessive and can control your whole life.
It's all or nothing.
Then you retreat into an expression of being bipolar.
Now at the end of the day I read.
I take myself out of the music.
I enjoy being out of the situation, for a few hours a few days.
My life is mine.
..
..
..
..
..
more to come -
This disorder affects almost 1 percent of the American population.
Unchecked it can ruthlessly destroy a person's thoughts, feelings and physical health.
Here is Part 1 of an interview with him, describing life with this illness.
And sharing tricks of the trade with others who are also fighting this battle.
THE DARK DAYS ARE GONE (PART 1) How did you wrap your head around a diagnosis of bipolar disease? Knowing that there was no cure and you would have to take medication the rest of your life? It was a big challenge.
It meant admitting that I was suffering from something I couldn't get rid of.
That it was in my DNA.
And on the other hand, treating it might mean losing facets of my personality.
Maybe even destroy my creativity.
Learning to accept it was a process.
In the beginning I kept going on and off my medication, not because I forgot.
All they asked me to do was not use drugs or smoke pot and take my medication.
The reason I kept stopping was because I thought medicating me was a societal conspiracy to deaden my mind.
It took me awhile to learn was that it was actually the opposite.
I could totally be totally healthy and still be myself.
It must have been incredibly jarring getting out of the hospital and facing the real world for the first time.
How did you adjust? When you first get out it's very alienating.
The first step of recovery is learning to trust your support group.
The illness made me delusional, so it would have been easy for someone like me to believe everyone was against me.
Coming to the realization that there are people out there who are going to support you, no matter what, gives you strength.
It empowers you.
Did you feel pressured to find ways to fit back into society? Wondering if everyone was watching you for signs of "crazy".
That's one thing I didn't worry about.
I didn't feel like I had to live up to anything.
Especially with the people I knew, because they'd witnessed me at my worst.
They weren't about to say, "Hey hurry up and get better already!" But among people I didn't know, it wasn't so much I felt that I needed to make a good impression.
I was just trying to teach myself how not to be so odd.
Along the way I adopted this philosophy.
That if anyone took offense at my weirdness, knowing what I was going through, it was almost funny.
How did you learn to control the tricks your disease played on your head? The negative habits of mind that were still in place? I found that redefining spirituality for myself was a big help.
Whether you want to define it as God or something else.
It took me out of myself and out of my original thoughts and replaced them with thoughts that were truthful and bigger than me.
It was the biggest leap of faith I had to take.
It meant giving up control to a higher power.
Trusting the medication would work and finally accepting that everyone is looking after me It took a long time to get that kind of clarity.
If you are in a manic state, the smallest emotion can lead you to a delusion.
I then would ask myself the tough questions, like are my thoughts true and what is really the root of the matter? What about your relationship with your music and your fans? Has that changed? Music is such a big part of me, it's like an expression of my soul.
When I was sick it was chaotic.
For a while I almost hated music and being a musician.
I thought it was lame and I was a terrible hack.
It's like that when you're ill.
You hate yourself, because everything you're doing instills self-loathing.
Whether its drugs or promiscuity.
So even being a musician, which I loved, seemed dark.
Now that I am healthy and happy the music comes from a different place.
When it came to my fans, being manic didn't allow me to communicate with them very well.
That's changed.
I now feel like I have more of a connection with the people who follow my band, because I put myself out there more and more.
How about the creative process? It's not that I'm practicing my art any differently; it just comes from a different place.
I can practice for longer amounts of time now without burning out.
When I made "..
..
is a real boy," I completely burned myself out.
The mania had taken over and compelled me to keep rewriting and rerecording it, not knowing when to stop.
Not knowing when to retreat.
Mania makes you obsessive and can control your whole life.
It's all or nothing.
Then you retreat into an expression of being bipolar.
Now at the end of the day I read.
I take myself out of the music.
I enjoy being out of the situation, for a few hours a few days.
My life is mine.
..
..
..
..
..
more to come -
