(image provided by DWB)
Self Doubt
If you don’t question yourself from time to time, or even frequently, even the things you love best, it can rightly be said of you by anyone who wishes to – that you’re an idiot. Not the saintly idiot variety that Dostoevsky so convincingly portrays in his fascinating novel The Idiot; but the kind whose personality is lacking in somehow massive ways; the kind with blinders on who thinks they know it all and has got it right about everything in this endlessly confusing, mysterious world.
None other than Socrates himself, probably the second or third smartest human who ever lived (if such things can be calculated that way, which they cannot, necessarily), after Jesus, and along with Buddha (and a few others who can match them), repeatedly pointed out that the smartest among the smart know first what it is that they don’t know.
I’ve seen too many bored and boring, gossiping, chattering, small-talking busybodies in this world who think they know it all so that I have to agree with him.
Dr. Kay Redfield Jamison, in her riveting, genius book Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament (devour it immediately if you haven’t already; the chapter on Lord Byron alone will blow you away if you’re awake) describes how the depressive side of the artist leads to the necessary self-critical moods that lead to artistic shaping of the highest variety. So: it’s all worth it: for the artist, anyway.
Christina, in the following poem, is lost in a low mood, a very, very low mood.
In the final poem of this series (scheduled to appear tomorrow), she gets out of it alive.
Alone
“…the better fortitude / Of patience and heroic martyrdom / Unsung.”
– John Milton
Gas gauge
Nearing empty
Now
And earlier
She pulled over and wrote
In kind, gentle
Violent
Desperation.
All the mileage and the empty
Credit cards. Maps, colors and lines,
Colors and lines, blurring
What’s left
Of my mind.
Roadside diners. Coffee cups. Rest stops.
Gas stations. More coffee stops. Pep pills, a downer from
Back home in Chicago. Throbbing Bob
Marley music. Bob Dylan – Street Legal. Hiding
Rasta baggies from charming
State troopers. And I’m lonely now
And I’m
Alone…
And she realized,
I’ve eaten almost nothing
But nut-containing candy
Bars washed down with water
Or tea three whole days!
In search of
These things
I don’t even know
About.
I’ve got
Blisters on my fingers from
Too many pencils and papers,
Eyes weary, and bleary, from
Reading, looking, seeing or driving
And I’ve been on the road now
I don’t know
How many days
And how many
Ways.
The end
Will come when
It will come
(Or should I hurry
It)
But it’s
Giving me the
Creeps now
(And my skin
Is crawling like
With mean, nasty
Bugs)
And I’m
Wondering
Seriously
If all this aloneness
Can be
Good for
My soul.
Dr. Dale W. Barrigar has suffered so many crushing, brutal depressions that he’s often considered throwing in the towel and leaping off the Mackinac Bridge, in honor of John Berryman and Hart Crane, but he’s always resisted – and always will resist (unless somebody pushes him). For Barrigar, daily doses of Depakote and various other sedatives and mood stabilizers (plus a few other things) do wonders for steadying the nerves, and do nothing to dampen his creativity even in the slightest. He looks forward to the day when, like Leonard Cohen, he ages so much that he can throw the pills away. Until then – you do what you need to do, whatever it is. This life will end soon enough for all of us – don’t take that leap, it will all get at least a little better tomorrow – he promises you.
Saragun Springs 
Happy 4th Dale!
Chrisina has dug a hole that I am sure she will find a way out of. That is the problem for persons who let go, the credit cards and gas stations do not dream.
Still, she has found a path and should be allowed to chase it, without numbers getting in the way.
Manic-depression (whatever name it is given) might be a necessary component in human development. Some people repeatedly fire then burn out and do it over again. Perchance there is a purpose there, not hidden by “sacred mystery.”
Wonderful as always. Look forward to tomorrow!
Leila
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Happy 4th of July, Leila!
That is one of the many great things about you, you know how to celebrate the seasons and their holidays with authenticity, kind of like with Dickens and Christmas.
Too many people today are saluting the drone flag with the words “Make America Great Again” dripping from their lips, OR thinking the whole thing is nothing but a sham and a scam. The truth lies somewhere in between the extremes. And you know that.
I like the term Manic Depression better than bipolar, because it has a harsher, sit-up-and-take-notice ring to it. They tried to make it sound more palatable by euphemistically terming it “bipolar disorder.” Something that can rage, create, and even kill should be given a name that describes what it is.
It’s also worth mentioning that our greatest president, Honest Abe, suffered from a form of this disorder. While fighting to end slavery AND keep the country together during the Civil War, a war he didn’t start, but felt he had to finish, not for himself, Lincoln was enjoying low-level hypomania and battling high-level depression most of the time as well. Not unlike Winston Churchill during the war against Hitler.
Thank you for being you, Leila, and knowing all the things you know!
Dale
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For some reason I recalled Golden Earring’s two big hits “Radar Love” and “Twilight Zone”.
Calling Manic-Depressive bipolar is an example of ameliorating words to make them seem less offensive. Retarded becomes slow, hillbilly becomes Appalachian and so on.
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It sticks in my mind that Stephen Fry – who I admire greatly, struggles with this strange disorder and bemoans the fact that if he chooses to control the lows he has to forfeit the highs. I think it’s true that many creative people choose to be cursed by the Black Dog in order to see the rainbow. Poor Christina, at least she is still in there kicking and screaming. It’s when the desire to even do that is lost that a soul might choose to turn it all off. Great Poem. Thank you – dd
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Dear Diane
Your kind words of wisdom and understanding are an awesome addition to the dialogue this poem wishes to create.
I think the bipolar road for artistic folks can be like walking on the high wire without a net, or feel like that in their own mind/s. Both terrifying and exhilarating by turns.
But as the great American writer Harry Crews said, “Walking the wire is everything. The rest is just waiting.”
I think all creative folks know what the highs and lows are like. Some are just a little nuttier than others some of the time.
Myself and Christina both thank you for all your great and poetic commentary on these poems!
Dale
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Hi Dale
I like the topic of “Self Doubt.” It’s in my spinning around the compass wheel house. When I first heard of Socrates, the man of many questions, state this. It made me feel good.
It’s a very human quality to be unsure. On the other side is the totalitarian way of thinking. To not question–to not question, one’s own thinking and actions. A blind disregard is not the way to enlightenment. “One sinner does much damage,” somewhere in the Bible.
This is a topic goes to the fundamentals of being human. That the wise know and the unwise bulldoze through life in a cock sureness that is rife with vain glory. If only they might stop to think… Is this right? Is this the right way to be and to act? And they laugh at “The Golden Rule.” Sounds like our current train wreck of a government, huh.
I can relate to depression. I have to force myself to get up at 7:00 AM everyday, which has been a good solid habit. I know when it’s coming for me, and I try to walk. When the tempo gets bleaker and resentments come biting, I realize, I need to write something for the total escape–if it’s any good–or not. Back in my drinking days everything was out of control–sleeping until four o’clock in the afternoon–floundering away.
Great poem! It drew me in an instant. I could relate to this in many ways. Travelling is like this when you are alone in a car. Eating, the gas station ‘But nut-containing candy”
You have a way with words! That one line boils it down. I really like your poetry! It deserves more and better words than these…
Christopher
PS in answer to an earlier comment
John Wayne–“The mountains are my religion” really captures the omnipresence of God. Thank you for your kind and awe inspiring words! You are good people! –as we used to say–walking quickly, with our friends, down the middle of the street. And life was before us.
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Hi Christopher!
One of the most important skills you have that makes you a great writer is your way with details: key details and significant details.
You have a way of encapsulating entire topics in a few words or with a few details.
All of which is to say that I know just what you mean about having to force one’s self out of bed at 7 a.m. AND about sleeping until 4 in the afternoon under other (less sober) scenarios.
It would have been wild to hang out with Socrates in person and trade friendly barbs with him, and try to answer his questions with a question while also questioning him at the same time!
“The fundamentals of being human” is a great phrase: a great way to encapsulate what Literature itself is all about: in the poem, the short story, the essay, the novel, and the play, and in this new form we are all exploring AND creating called creative writing on the internet including creative (and deep, thoughtful, and imaginative) “commenting” which creates a literary dialogue (for the ages).
Your last paragraph here really captures the essence of youth!
Happy Fourth of July, we need to “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN” but not in the way they say! That starts with great writing because if a culture doesn’t have writing it isn’t a culture at all, just a system of control!
And all Americans should always remember that George Washington refused to be a king when they begged him to, and he was even (quite literally) appalled at the notion (causing him to bow out and leave the scene).
Dale
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Hi Dale
Thank you!
Yes the 7:00 deal came about because I was literally sleeping my life away. I used to work as a real estate agent and they had these 9:00 sales meetings and I couldn’t make them. I didn’t miss much besides the donuts and coffee. But I realized business occurs mostly in the daylight.
But the deeper truth was I knew depression was causing this drowsy escaping state. Depression loves the pillow. And anxiety is it’s Sominex to get you there. The wearing out of the spirit with emotional pain. The anxiety never goes away I’ve accepted this and fuel it with gallons of teeth tainting coffee. lol. But writing helps, I feel almost free at this moment.
Eminem “I’m on a thousand downers now, I’m drowsy.” From “Stan.”
Thank you on the last paragraph of youth. I felt a hint of good writing, and that’s a fine feeling. I remember those walks, usually passing a joint, later stumbling drunk, and alone. As those friends disappeared as I did into the bottle.
Love your critique of this culture and MAGA! That is thought provoking about how important writers are against the wall of autocracy. And about how these comments sharpen the senses–published for the ages.
G.Washington was great and he must have felt that exact and appalling way… Campaigning all of those years in battle against the crown. But as Moses descends mount Sinai. What did he see? The fornicating Israelites and the golden calf Aaron sculpted. The hypocrisy of human nature and sin is never ending. (hopefully not too many typos and missing words, lol).
BTW on the subject of writing. I don’t think I have ever seen a single word of your writing including these annuals of comments that has a single error. That is a magnificent accomplishment!
Happy 4th!
Christopher
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Christopher
THANKS for sharing all these heartfelt and honest personal details. You’ve lived a very wide and varied, and fascinating, life, and I love hearing about your experiences. And they always come through with a crystal-like clarity because of your way with words, a hard-won honing of a born-with-it natural talent.
Thanks for noticing, and mentioning, that I never make any mistakes or errors in my writing. Every now and then I catch a typo after I hit “send” and it can take me ten minutes or more of hand wringing and reminding myself it doesn’t matter to get over it. (I even have to go so far as telling myself, “Everything happens for a reason.” This because of a single typo.) I also have to say that when i BREAK the rules, it’s almost always on purpose, as well. Sometimes I like to SHATTER grammar and the “right way” of doing it just so I can try and put it together again.
Mostly, nobody cares about any of this. Only another writer of a special kind would care about these details, or even notice. Thanks again for noticing, AND saying so!
Dale
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