Years Later, a
Quieter Mind
(February 1998) -- When psychologist
Kay Redfield Jamison, Ph.D., wrote
An Unquiet Mind, an account of her struggles
with manic depressive illness--which she has both experienced and studied--she
expected modest sales, mostly to people who had been directly affected by the
disorder. But the 1995 book was a surprise hit, spending five months on the New
York Times best-seller list and selling more than 400,000 copies. Part of its
appeal came from the fascinating contrast between Jamison's elegant prose and
the extreme, often brutal experiences she recounted. In person, the incongruity
is even more startling: Jamison is graceful and self-possessed, but speaks
frankly about the harrowing realities of mental illness.
Seated in her office at the Johns
Hopkins School of Medicine in Baltimore, Jamison reflects on the personal and
professional price of that candor. Asked whether she would do it all again, she
pauses for a long moment. "I think now, two years after the publication of the
book, I'd say yes, it was worth it," she says at last. "But has it been costly?
For sure." Jamison does acknowledge relief at being able to drop the "Brooks
Brothers conservative" image she adopted to conceal her disorder, saying, "I
hadn't realized the amount of time and energy I put into keeping this illness to
myself. I am much more myself publicly than I was before." Her colleagues have
been supportive, she says, and her status as a tenured professor made the
disclosure less risky for her than for most people. "But you also have more to
lose under those circumstances, because you've spent a long time building a
certain reputation as a scientist," adds Jamison. "All of a sudden, your work is
subject to questions: `What was her motivation? Was she objective?'"
It's not just her research that has
undergone reappraisal. "As soon as somebody knows that you have a mental
illness, they treat you differently," she says. "Particularly if you've written
about being psychotic and delusional, people will question your judgment, your
rationality." Jamison talks with resignation about the inevitable loss of
privacy: "It would be disingenuous to write such a personal book and not expect
people to respond." Perhaps more painful, though, was giving up her therapy
practice. "I spent many years learning to be a clinician, and I loved doing it,"
she says. "But I've written a highly personal book. Patients have the right to
walk into an office and deal with their own problems, not with what they
construe their therapist's problems to be."
Despite her very public "coming
out," Jamison still counsels caution to those considering revealing their
illness to employers and others. Her emphasis is on encouraging people to
acknowledge their mental disorders to themselves, and to get treatment. "There's
no excuse in this day and age for seventeenth-century notions of mental
illness," says Jamison, whose own manic-depression went untreated for years
until it was brought under control by lithium "If you don't discuss it and don't
seek treatment, you can die, and ruin a lot of lives around you."
Jamison saw some of those lives for
herself while traveling the country to promote An Unquiet Mind. "At almost every
talk I gave, somebody would come up to me with a photograph of a kid who had
committed suicide," she relates. "The devastation was unbearable, all of that
unnecessary pain and suffering. It just broke my heart." Jamison's next book,
Night Falls Fast, will deal head-on with the topic of suicide, exploring the
implications of recent neurological and psychological research. "It's been a
relief to turn back to science," says Jamison. "You get into this business of
talking about your own experiences and you forget why you went into science," "
she continues, "which is that it's really interesting."
Also gratifying, she says, is her
work on yet another book. Tentatively titled Beyond Dr. Doolittle, it's about
medicine and science at the National Zoo. "The doctors there are confronted with
an extraordinary range of medical problems," says Jamison. "Imagine treating 500
different species!" She pauses, then smiles. "Doctors around here have enough
problems with just one."
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