I went to a memorial service this weekend for a friend who recently succumbed to the suicidal impulse. This impulse can be overwhelmingly powerful among those who suffer from bipolar illness, especially when one has been experiencing a particularly powerful, sustained manic episode. Sleep deprivation can have fatal consequences. This young man did everything right, well almost everything. He was in tip top physical condition, he did yoga, he went through yoga teacher training, he dedicated himself to meditation practice, had a Buddhist master under which he studied, took the bodhisatva vow, saw a therapist, belonged to various groups--Buddhist, Sufi, music, poetry, support. He had a wide circle of friends who loved him dearly. He was a massage therapist who created a unique method he called Guided Release Therapy, in which he guided his clients through a methodical, hands on approach towards achieving a deep, meditative state of relaxation/release. He was a bright spirit, he gave of himself, he went about living life fully. He was remarkable, and it was an honor to know him and work with him.
In the case of bipolar illness, one must follow medical protocol and get stabilized on medication in order to achieve a stable foundation on which to function, to chemically control the imbalances that are occurring in the brain. Even though this often is not an easy task, and, unfortunately, in some cases may take months, even years, this is a cardinal rule. Improving diet, meditating, staying healthy, avoiding alcohol, doing yoga--these are feats of accomplishment to be greatly admired. But they will not "beat" or "overcome" the illness. It must be treated professionally by a skilled psychopharmacologist. I recently took a workshop with George Purvis, a senior Iyengar teacher who has so much to teach. He told us that a number of years ago he was diagnosed with advanced stage melanoma. The prognosis for this is not good. His doctors prescribed an aggressive treatment program that left him exhausted and weak. His students, and others, asked, why are you not doing yoga, or using yoga to treat yourself? His doctors told him if he didn't follow the outlined, aggressive treatment program he would be dead in a matter of months. So he did not do yoga for a prolonged period of time. In truth, he was doing yoga the whole time, because he clearly had developed a keen intelligence (buddhi) that guided him in the direction that resulted in conquering this aggressive cancer through "correct" thinking. The bipolar sufferer, when in a state of chemical imbalance, cannot think clearly. In fact, some move into states of psychosis. Good judgment flies out the window. The pain endured by these sufferers can be profound. The impulse to end it all can be irresistible.
I mourn the loss of my friend, I grieve, I cry, I place flowers at the memorial created at the entrance to his house, I light a candle, I remember his sweetness and tender heart, his beauty. I feel deep empathy for his suffering. Then, I move into anger, which I believe is appropriate, healthy, therapeutic. We must make room for all feelings that come up. I'm angry that he killed himself, especially in such a violent manner. I'm angry that he didn't take better care of himself in a way that might have prevented this. I'm angry that he left so many people behind who love him dearly and who suffer from his loss. After the anger will come forgiveness. I am almost there. We do our best, and that is all we can do. And sometimes, that just isn't enough. Sometimes we fail ourselves. Sometimes the systems, our systems, our most keenly developed intelligence, fails us. And that is just how it is, and ultimately it's all okay.
Recommended reading: Kay Redfield Jamison, "Night Falls Fast (understanding suicide)"
B.K.S. Iyengar, "Light on Life"
In the case of bipolar illness, one must follow medical protocol and get stabilized on medication in order to achieve a stable foundation on which to function, to chemically control the imbalances that are occurring in the brain. Even though this often is not an easy task, and, unfortunately, in some cases may take months, even years, this is a cardinal rule. Improving diet, meditating, staying healthy, avoiding alcohol, doing yoga--these are feats of accomplishment to be greatly admired. But they will not "beat" or "overcome" the illness. It must be treated professionally by a skilled psychopharmacologist. I recently took a workshop with George Purvis, a senior Iyengar teacher who has so much to teach. He told us that a number of years ago he was diagnosed with advanced stage melanoma. The prognosis for this is not good. His doctors prescribed an aggressive treatment program that left him exhausted and weak. His students, and others, asked, why are you not doing yoga, or using yoga to treat yourself? His doctors told him if he didn't follow the outlined, aggressive treatment program he would be dead in a matter of months. So he did not do yoga for a prolonged period of time. In truth, he was doing yoga the whole time, because he clearly had developed a keen intelligence (buddhi) that guided him in the direction that resulted in conquering this aggressive cancer through "correct" thinking. The bipolar sufferer, when in a state of chemical imbalance, cannot think clearly. In fact, some move into states of psychosis. Good judgment flies out the window. The pain endured by these sufferers can be profound. The impulse to end it all can be irresistible.
I mourn the loss of my friend, I grieve, I cry, I place flowers at the memorial created at the entrance to his house, I light a candle, I remember his sweetness and tender heart, his beauty. I feel deep empathy for his suffering. Then, I move into anger, which I believe is appropriate, healthy, therapeutic. We must make room for all feelings that come up. I'm angry that he killed himself, especially in such a violent manner. I'm angry that he didn't take better care of himself in a way that might have prevented this. I'm angry that he left so many people behind who love him dearly and who suffer from his loss. After the anger will come forgiveness. I am almost there. We do our best, and that is all we can do. And sometimes, that just isn't enough. Sometimes we fail ourselves. Sometimes the systems, our systems, our most keenly developed intelligence, fails us. And that is just how it is, and ultimately it's all okay.
Recommended reading: Kay Redfield Jamison, "Night Falls Fast (understanding suicide)"
B.K.S. Iyengar, "Light on Life"
