Will Success Spoil John Wesley?
For the longest time now, perhaps since the Palm Sunday success of the Passion Play, I've been going along, stringing out what I had assumed was just an extended fit of mania. I get them from time to time as well as periodic feelings of malaise. Not enough to really qualify myself as bipolar, but, something to keep an eye on. To notice, as it were. I feel good for a while; I may start and perhaps even finish a work of art or some writing before the feelings are eventually replaced by the usual cycle of self-loathing, sloth, and anxiety.
My doctor, the fabulous Dr. P, says that I have a vitamin D deficiency and though he hasn't said so, if memory serves me correctly, it's one of those nutrients with a direct bearing on one's mood. He did opine that "you must not go out at all." Apparently, vitamin D production has something to do with getting enough sun, something I was on top of all the while Mom was in the nursing home, but, have since paid little attention.
So, it is with no small amount of surprise that I look back on the last three months of near ceaseless activity and realize that it has been one peak experience after another the entire time and with no real end in sight. In fact, it scarcely feels like mania at all. It feels more or less permanent. How do I know? It's because I think I have become addicted to the hormonal rush that accompanies doing scary things. It's a little bit different from manic-depression.
With manic-depression, I feel as though I am at the mercy of some sort of chemical imbalance and that if I can just hold on long enough, no matter how bad I feel, I will catch the next wave of dopamine or melatonin or whatever it is our brains trigger in order to keep our moods from swinging too far in one direction or the other.
But, adrenaline is something else. My understanding is that it is produced when the brain senses that the body is in danger, the classic "fight or flight" signal that it sends to our heartbeat; to our arms and legs. It is not voluntary. It is pure instinct. In fact, you don't even notice that you are experiencing it until it begins to subside. And therein lies its puzzling power. Because it doesn't take long before you want to feel it all over again.
So, here I am, back in New York, after seeing my name in the local paper of my parents hometown, feted as a successful "New York artist", seeing my work assembled and curated in public for the first time. And, on the receiving end of a lot of admiration - even from my two siblings with whom I spent nearly an entire week in close quarters. And, something inside of me just wants to keep the party in my head going for as long as it possibly can.
My doctor, the fabulous Dr. P, says that I have a vitamin D deficiency and though he hasn't said so, if memory serves me correctly, it's one of those nutrients with a direct bearing on one's mood. He did opine that "you must not go out at all." Apparently, vitamin D production has something to do with getting enough sun, something I was on top of all the while Mom was in the nursing home, but, have since paid little attention.
So, it is with no small amount of surprise that I look back on the last three months of near ceaseless activity and realize that it has been one peak experience after another the entire time and with no real end in sight. In fact, it scarcely feels like mania at all. It feels more or less permanent. How do I know? It's because I think I have become addicted to the hormonal rush that accompanies doing scary things. It's a little bit different from manic-depression.
With manic-depression, I feel as though I am at the mercy of some sort of chemical imbalance and that if I can just hold on long enough, no matter how bad I feel, I will catch the next wave of dopamine or melatonin or whatever it is our brains trigger in order to keep our moods from swinging too far in one direction or the other.
But, adrenaline is something else. My understanding is that it is produced when the brain senses that the body is in danger, the classic "fight or flight" signal that it sends to our heartbeat; to our arms and legs. It is not voluntary. It is pure instinct. In fact, you don't even notice that you are experiencing it until it begins to subside. And therein lies its puzzling power. Because it doesn't take long before you want to feel it all over again.
So, here I am, back in New York, after seeing my name in the local paper of my parents hometown, feted as a successful "New York artist", seeing my work assembled and curated in public for the first time. And, on the receiving end of a lot of admiration - even from my two siblings with whom I spent nearly an entire week in close quarters. And, something inside of me just wants to keep the party in my head going for as long as it possibly can.