I facilitate a support group for people with mental conditions along with those who love and support them. Several of us have years of experience of functioning while depressed. The other day we were exploring what it feels like to be deeply depressed instead of making it go away. We were describing depression much like my “Art Of Seeing Depression” article when the topic of watching movies while depressed came up. It brought up interesting ideas that I hope you will share your insights about.

We started calling out favorite movies to watch while depressed, like The Hours or What Dreams May Come, and started joking about why would we want to watch comedies during depression. Somebody said that if others heard us they would be shocked. When asked why, the conversation turned to what we thought most people would think.

Every single day I think about the time I tried to kill myself. It is one of my strongest and most detailed memories. I mention it in passing in my talks as if it is just a point of reference, but it has a profound impact on my every thought. I have not heard the bipolar or depression world debating pro-choice vs. pro-life suicide, but it is an internal debate that I often have myself. I wonder if others have had similar thoughts?

My debate is further colored by the suicide of my best friend Santiago. I think about his hanging himself every day, and the effect it had on everyone around him. It is another memory that is so strong it could have just happened. It too has a profound effect on my every thought.

The other day I was showing a visitor around San Francisco and he brought up suicide when we drove by the Golden Gate Bridge. He asked how many people have jumped off (over 1,200 so far) and whether they have put up a barrier yet. I found myself sharing my internal debate and chose to take the pro-choice side.

This video is a segment of a one-hour DVD based on the book Bipolar In Order: Looking At Depression, Mania, Hallucination, And Delusion From The Other Side.

What is unfortunate today is that far too many people continue to cling to the old belief that it is impossible to live a full life with a mental condition. On the other hand, a growing group of people are beginning to consider a life that is not restricted to a narrow range of experience. I look forward to the day when we all rise above the ignorance that keeps us in fear and denial of a better life.

Bipolar In Order is based on a very simple premise: we can learn and grow to the point that we see our condition as an advantage in our lives. Because this concept is often difficult for many people to accept on blind faith alone, I encourage everyone to simply begin by accepting that this new perspective is possible. To make this perspective a reality requires persistence, determination, and commitment. If you will give this perspective a chance, you will prove it in your own life.

About four years ago, the mental health providers who were helping me suggested I take up meditation. Since then, I’ve found settling into the mind that lies beneath surface turmoil to be very helpful to my emotional balance. No doubt many readers will find what I write to be naive, which is unavoidable given that my practice began so recently. Still, meditation helps my state of mind so much that I can’t resist commenting on a recent realization.

When I first began to meditate, my instructors cautioned me to toss out the idea of emptying the mind of thought. They taught me to observe thoughts, sensations, and emotions without trying to influence them. Of course, those first classes were all presented from a medical perspective; they followed the Jon Kabat-Zinn formulation. Other schools place more emphasis on achieving a mind less dominated by verbal thought streams. But that early teaching held, and for a long time I assumed that achieving silence in the mind would be difficult if not impossible.

Evolutionary biologists question whether there is any such thing as true altruism. The problem is that most, if not all, natural selection operates on the level of individual fitness. It is therefore difficult to see how genes for genuine self-sacrifice could survive the dispassionate fact that if you give up your resources (or life) for a stranger, you help someone else reproduce at the expense of your own chances to leave offspring. Any gene that promotes truly self-sacrificing behavior will tend to be eliminated due to diminished reproduction, unless it promotes self-sacrifice in the other guy. This seemingly bleak conclusion accounts for some of the uneasiness that the theory of natural selection provokes in religious circles. They fear degradation of moral principles if altruism is demonstrated to be an illusion. That fear seems misplaced, in my opinion, but the source and value of selfless behavior warrants consideration.

Long ago, a girlfriend’s grandmother opened my eyes to a rather cold-hearted view of generosity. A Belgian aristocrat, she had ideas quite foreign to my liberal Californian values. She believed that even when people behave charitably, they primarily do it to make themselves feel better. These do-gooders only look selfless; in reality, they are self-righteous and self-congratulatory. She argued that empathy is merely disguised pity, and that generosity is nothing but a tool for ego-inflation.

Even though the concept of altruism faces these challenges, we cannot deny that it is one of the cornerstones of humane behavior. Must we discard the widespread belief that good people act selflessly, and conclude that in reproductive and/or emotional terms, those who appear to sacrifice themselves actually accrue net benefits?

Like many others, I’ve suffered through years of severe depression. Fortunately, in recent months the quality of my life has greatly improved. In part this is because depression doesn’t distress me as much as it used to. One of the key points made by Tom Wootton of Bipolar Advantage (the host of this blog) is that depression carries a bit of beauty and majesty. It adds texture to life. Once I abandoned my relentless struggle against the darkness, the low moods became more tolerable. Coincidentally, once I quit despising my dark periods, they lessened in severity. (By the way, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy has also helped me appreciate rather than hate depression.)

But many other factors have been involved, and I have begun to address some of them here. So far I’ve touched on the benefits of humility, ego-suppression, and mental discipline. Another useful item in my tool chest has been a deepening understanding of what it means to be a human being. The many layers to this clarity include growing respect for my biological nature; it helped remove a major obstruction in my path toward mental wellness.

To get to a point where lasting growth could take hold, I had to overcome very low self-esteem. Having suffered severe trauma during my upbringing, my opinion of myself has long been rather abysmal. It’s been hard to believe that I deserve love, or success, or happiness. Recently, a therapist helped me appreciate an aspect of my being that I had long overlooked. In the course of a visit during which I felt quite down, he instructed me to hold out my hand. “Can you love your hand?” he asked.

James Turrell is one of the most remarkable artists alive. He has an amazing understanding of light and perception. By using darkness and almost imperceptible light, his artwork totally changes the way we see the world. I think his work with light and darkness is a perfect metaphor for trying to see depression in a new light.

When you enter one of Jim’s installations, it is so dark that you cannot see anything, or at least not much. The amount of available light is simply too little for our eyes to use. His artwork is not a picture on the wall; it is the entire environment, in which both the perception of the audience and time act as critical components.

If you stay long enough, your eyes begin to adjust to the lack of light. You start to see things that were there all along, but your eyes were not yet ready to perceive.

When you go back out into the “real” world, you bring an entirely new perspective; you begin to see everything in a whole new light (pun intended). Jim’s work can truly be described as a discovery of the act of seeing.

My own art is similar to Jim’s in many ways. Like Jim, instead of using a brush to paint a picture, I choose to build an environment that blocks out light and helps me to perceive. Unlike Jim, my art is not in the physical world; it is in my interior world.

Regardless of one’s beliefs about the existence of transcendent realms, human beings need something akin to spirituality to counteract ego dominance. Religious systems encourage humility in order to bring practitioners out of self, and into appreciation of a larger reality. People argue about ‘God’, and obsess about whether we live in a purely material world versus one with mystical foundations. But debates about the nature of the cosmos, while fascinating and important, could be sidestepped if there were an easy way to escape the ego’s tyranny.

Recently, I read the textbook Animal Behavior, by John Alcock, which looks at the subject from an evolutionary perspective. It rounded out ideas that first came my way through Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT). Despite the rudimentary abilities of certain apes, only humans employ verbal, rational, and linear thought. Predictive skills and long-range strategizing appear to have evolved only recently. Other animals have minds of some sort, but they must work differently from ours. Anyone with a dog knows it has desires and abilities to communicate them. A dog is good at getting humans to provide what it wants. But one of the wonderful things about canine pets is their lack of guile. They don’t plan, manipulate, deceive, or ‘think’ long-term. Those are uniquely human qualities. Although animals have very complicated, and even flexible, behaviors, they do not have complex thinking. Such cognition is a new development on earth.

I have finally settled on a motto that says it all for me – I Want To Be A Better Person. For me, that simple phrase addresses many of my issues; my arrogance, my bad behavior, my admission of having done wrong, my acceptance of who I really am, and most of all, my need for hope. I Want To Be A Better Person reflects my belief that in spite of my bipolar condition, I can overcome my bad tendencies and become someone to admire, instead of someone to fear or feel sorry for.

My journey to wanting to be a better person was long and convoluted, painful, yet even funny at times. My hope is that by sharing it with you, I will have an even greater desire to live up to my dreams and give someone else hope as well. There are countless details left out and many details may be wrong, but I hope to paint a picture of how I got to this point.

Long before my diagnosis of Bipolar, I exhibited behaviors that were considered horrible, to put it mildly. Thinking I was smarter and better than anyone, I would justify my behavior as the fault of whoever was my victim. It was always “your” fault that I was acting so horribly, and if it weren’t for you, I would be a saint. My extreme rages were outdone by my delusions, my denial that I was responsible for my behavior, or even believing that my behavior was perfectly justified.

After getting sick of my own behavior, I bought an estate that was next to the monastery that I once lived in. I volunteered to manage the computer systems department and was put under the direction of Lee, a senior monk who I have known for over 20 years. One day, I had a falling out with a friend of mine that I had hired to do some work for the monastery. We ended up in a heated email exchange that was rapidly escalating to the point that it was harming the monastery. Because I was representing the monastery, Lee insisted that all emails that I sent be approved by him. It has been almost five years now, but that experience is one that I have finally grasped.

Humility too often sounds like a dirty word in our culture. It goes against the dominant values of competition, self-promotion, and egotism. Prominent figures seldom exhibit anything like it. Sometimes we see weak attempts at false modesty, but only rare and special leaders are truly humble. The Dalai Lama comes to mind, but not many others.

This is unfortunate. Humility not only fosters cooperation within society, it promotes mental health. Alcoholics Anonymous has figured this out, and of course most spiritual systems advocate against excessive pride. But as a general principle of psychiatric wellness, we seldom hear of it.

The problem is that people misunderstand the word. We hear talk about the importance of self-esteem, and we suspect humility implies lack of belief in oneself. But the truth is we can’t be genuinely humble without first being confident of our worth. We all understand that the people who talk themselves up the most are often the ones who feel the most insecure. The converse, also true, is less well known. Those who feel more love and respect for themselves have less concern about proving themselves to society.