Off the Map

One of the key elements for dealing with mania and depression in my opinion is how they are viewed.  Both “mania” and “depression” are generic terms.  That is, they are vague, and they need interpretation in order to understand what they mean in a context or to another person.  Interpreting the terms means simply putting them in other terms.

Unfortunately, in my opinion, there is a strong movement toward nearly exclusively putting these conditions into chemical terms.  That is, “mania” and “depression” get defined as “chemical imbalances,” a terminology that does shed some light on a component of the conditions in a way.  But settling to see these conditions in chemical terms overlooks other possible, perhaps more valid ways of seeing these conditions and dealing with them.

I do not like seeing these conditions in chemical terms.  Myself, I prefer to see them in behavioral terms.  That is, I define “mania” and “depression” as behavior.  By defining them as behavior, I look at the choices people make who experience the conditions.  I evaluate the choices and make recommendations in light of the desire to diminish the conditions.  Those who define the conditions chemically look in different places and make different recommendations.  They look at chemistry and prescribe chemistry.

I take that approach as largely (though not totally) inappropriate.  First off, “a chemical imbalance” is not a natural condition as much as it is a judgment of what is or should be a normal chemical balance.  An “emotional” person might be seen as imbalanced, and a less “emotional” person as balanced, but the less “emotional” person may fail at dramatic performance where the “emotional” person succeeds.  That is, “balance” may be taken as an arbitrary, societal term used to accept or reject particular observations.  Then again, there may be a more impartial take on the term within the realm of biochemistry, but the word “balance” fails an impartiality test, I would imagine.

In seeing mania and depression as behavior, I look at the behaviors that lead to the conditions.  Very generally, the words “mania” and “depression” have to deal with self-impressions.  If someone sees himself as lesser, he is depressed.  If someone sees himself as greater, he is manic.  Of course, these are highly simplistic observations for a complex condition, but they cut to the core of the conditions.  Someone who puts himself down is a depressive sort, and someone who aggrandizes himself is a manic sort.

Granted, the definitions of these conditions do not describe everyday choices of putting oneself down or aggrandizing oneself.  Saying “That was dumb of me” does not mean one is depressed in a problematic way, though such behavior, if it is genuine, is an indicator of minute depression of the person.  Similarly, saying “I’m so smart” does not mean one is manic in a problematic way, though such behavior, if it is genuine, is an indicator of minute mania in a person.  When do the problematic levels erupt?  The answer is largely cultural.  If suicide is culturally rejected, then the behaviors are problematic when suicidal tendencies erupt.  But the display of suicidal tendencies does not mean that mania or depression are problems.  Instead, it is culture that sees them as problems.  And not all cultures reject such displays.  Neither mania nor depression is inherently right or wrong–they just “are,” just as going to the grocery “is,” or showering “is,” or feeling fine “is.”

In seeing the conditions as behavior, the behaviors that lead to the conditions are addressed.  It is not parallel to think of the conditions as behavior but to address the behavior by medicating.  Instead, it is parallel to address the behavior with behavior.  Take note:

If I punch myself in the arm and create a bruise, you might say that the bruise is a chemical imbalance.  The chemically-minded doctor would say that the bruise is “a chemical imbalance,” and then treat my bruise.  But the problem is more that I punched myself.  If I repeatedly punch myself, it is silly to keep treating my bruises.  Instead, you treat the behavior of punching my own arm.  You get me out of the behavior that creates the chemical imbalance.  It is (often) behavior that stirs the chemical pot of mania and depression.

And the behavior of aggrandizing oneself as in mania, or in derating oneself as in depression, is what stirs the chemical pot.  Language is behavior.  Talking is behavior.  Thoughts about oneself are behavior.  These are not the same kinds of behavior as shooting a basketball in a hoop, or firing a gun, or kissing a girl.  These are relatively “invisible” behaviors–“invisible” in the sense that we don’t typically see them as behaviors but see them as something else for whatever reason.  Why do these behaviors stir our chemical pots?  I don’t know.  But so often they do.

Sticks and stone may break my bones.  Words may not break my bones, but they may break my psyche.  If I speak as if I’m the best in the world, or as if I’m the worst in the world, and I do this repeatedly, such that I actually truly believe it, I may end up with the “chemical imbalances” that the chemically-minded see and wonder why about.

See also: bipolar-disorder, chemical-imbalance, culture, defintion, depression, generic-terms, mania, manic-depression, terminology, terms