A Medicine Story, Told Three Ways
Weaving and presenting the group story is an important part of organic inquiry. It provides a reflection that touches upon shared aspects of an experience, in this case, living with long-term depressive episodes. If constructed accurately, it communicates aspects of the experience that are not evident when considering an individual narrative in isolation.
I tell the group story three different ways: As a multimedia film, as a poem written to be performed as a spoken-word piece, and in the context of a more traditional academic exposition on themes that emerged from an analysis of the individual narratives. I am using three different methods to convey the study results to provide as many possible pathways to understanding the experience as possible, avenues that appeal to our unconscious, creative, and analytical ways of knowing and understanding.
I tell the group story three different ways: As a multimedia film, as a poem written to be performed as a spoken-word piece, and in the context of a more traditional academic exposition on themes that emerged from an analysis of the individual narratives. I am using three different methods to convey the study results to provide as many possible pathways to understanding the experience as possible, avenues that appeal to our unconscious, creative, and analytical ways of knowing and understanding.
The Group Story: Multimedia Version
The spoken narration was taken directly from my research interviews and my own post-research narrative. Each participant is represented in the script –– the words are theirs, and the voice is mine. Because all of the women who participated in the study have spent at least ten years managing life with low moods, the film represents one slice of their collective wisdom.
The process of organic inquiry generates a lot of data, and to pull one or two snippets from each individual narrative and weave a cohesive story was not an easy task. The interviews, which were semi-structured, produced transcripts that averaged 25 single spaced pages of text. This narrative was not meant to summarize the totality of their experience, but to provide a single dose of some of the medicine they offered when they shared their experiences. |
The images from this film were collected over a period of time, with additional footage provided by Pia Kamala. The moving and still photos were not put together in a way that was meant to drive the narrative, but to communicate some of the unspoken and unconscious aspects of the experience of living with low moods. As such, it was composed in a creative, rather than analytical state. The imagery points to the cyclical and elemental nature of living with low moods, along with themes of flourishing where planted, disconnection, surrender, abandonment, growth emerging from difficulty, and discovering our place in the creation of beauty and life |
The only identifiable faces are my own and that of my birth mother. That footage and those photographs are very personal. The decision to include them was based on the notion that depression, in its most severe moments, is a very private experience, unseen and misunderstood by those who have never lived it. By showing my face and myself in the midst of affective difficulty, I stand in for my co-researchers, showing what is most often kept hidden. |
Two of the four songs (I'm On My Way & Flute Improv II) in the narrative were composed, performed, and recorded by me during the process of conducting this research. Creating music inspired by my contact with these stories was intended to be another way to reflect the part of the experience of living with recurrent low moods that can not be put into words.
The Group Story: A Spoken-Word Poetic Version
I.
We stand –– in the emotional borderlands, questioning Our existence on this physical plane –– (we have stood) Many times, many times –– yes, The thought has crossed our minds –– We do not always know what pulled us back (this is a very important question) –– Kids, cats, images of caskets and Love all help –– ahh, help –– Oh, good Lord, have we sought help –– We have scoured the internet, gone to therapists, handed ourselves over to Scores of mental health professionals, who have ranged from brilliant –– Saving our lives, yes –– to just plain Sorry/no good/making crazy worse as opposed to better We do not need them to tell us we are strong, we know that, clearly –– We’re still here, aren’t we? II.
It’s important not to get too dramatic about these things, –– but (This hurts. Shhhhh. We don’t talk about it, but it hurts. All over). We feel guilt and shame for matters beyond our control We have apologized for disturbing the molecules in the air with our Bodies –– helpless on the dark side of an unscalable, nasty wall, or that valley – (You know THAT valley) –– that deep, unreachable place III.
We get sneaky, make friends with this rabid animal on our backs Figuring out how to tend to ourselves when it bites –– We have been stopped by this unwelcome visitor –– Learning the trick of embracing and releasing at the same time Cycling through, for the sake of feeling what needs to be felt We sit still, we meditate, we slow things down It takes time, it takes time –– Oh, good Lord, does it take time –– (And money) We sing over our own bones, resurrecting ourselves from the dead (For being as least dead as possible is a laudable goal) For example: Bringing ourselves from lying-down dead to walking-around dead And celebrating small victories like going to the bank –– Ha! We know how to get it cornered, and we tell it to sit down –– We are going to make poems now, and We are going to sing and write now, and Dance and move. And fuck. We are going to be in our bodies, fill them up with Divinity –– the Holy Spirit A lover’s touch, the right medicine, creative joy that brings us back, gently To this world –– made bearable once again IV.
See, it’s not all in our heads, It’s in our legs, our bellies, our chests, our shoulders, and Oh, good Lord, it is in our faces (pained smiles/soldiering on) It is in our hands and fingers, In the way it is hard to hold our legs still, The way we bounce our knees and tap our feet (if, of course, we can move at all) V.
We work hard. We go on serious, epic, healing journeys –– back to rescue younger versions of ourselves Back to hug our orphaned children, to access wisdom beyond the DSM (from lovers, others, and the Divine) Patience, patience –– steady, steady, circuitry re-routed –– and Hallelujah! An observation that things taste better Love feels fuller Hearts no longer Locked away/guarded by spirits of loss Sometimes we sail –– sometimes we putter But the lights come on, and for a time, We forget how dark it had been (This is wonderful) VI.
Listen, we’re not weak, okay? We are cozy with a force powerful enough to Overcome the primal drive to stay alive –– (something so powerful it kills twice as many people as people kill each other) And we live with it –– we thrive with it –– Dazzling others with our creative/empathic capacity Watch us sit –– comfortable, comforting (not condescending) When grief and fear and despair are near, especially when Present in others –– when everyone else walks away, we stay We pull up love from unexpected places (These are black-belt moves, baby –– black-belt moves) Yes, we are fierce –– or else we would be dead |
The poem on the left was conceived as a spoken-word performance piece. It was constructed using ideas, words, and thoughts expressed by the women interviewed for the study and observations the researcher recorded in a written journal. |
The Group Story: Themes From The Data
I did not subject the interview transcripts to formal thematic textual analysis, but employed three methods to facilitate the emergence of themes. These three approaches were textual, embodied, and creative. This method of analysis produced the themes described below.
Service to others living with mental illness.This was a most exciting finding, one that was not related to the incubation questions or any of the criteria for inclusion in the study. Including my narrative and Cecelia’s narrative, all of the women in this study served as resources for others going through the same or similar experiences. Yemaya is a student in a clinical psychology graduate program; Maya is a peer mentor at the community mental health center in her neighborhood and runs a sisterhood network for women in abusive relationships; Reverdia speaks publicly about her experiences through her poetry and is an informal resource in her kinfolk/community circle; Frida facilitates local meetings of the Depression Bipolar Support Alliance; Elán has written a book of poetry about her experiences and is developing plans to share her healing process with others through classes; Ann and Edith both write and speak publicly about their experiences; Parker and Mali both facilitate web-based support groups; and Emily works as a somatic therapist, helping others process and heal from trauma. I am currently a psychotherapy intern, and Cecelia was a trainer in a peer-to-peer program called WRAP (Wellness Action Recovery Plan) and a founding member of an arts group for people living with mental illness.
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The women in this study did not approach depression management theoretically, they lived it out. Impact of reactions of other people on co-researchers’ management strategiesThis was another theme that emerged unsolicited. None of the women spoke about her journey as one she is on alone. Though I did not solicit stories about this topic, each of the co-researchers spent time talking about the impact the reactions of family, friends, and co-workers had on their management choices. Reactions of others run the gamut: supportive, oblivious, incredulous, guilty, confused, etc. Each of the women indicate that these responses have had a significant impact on how they understand what is happening to them, how they construct their depression narrative, and how they choose to respond and manage their episodes and their lives in-between episodes.
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Plurality of interventions and ways of conceptualizing the experience of living with episodic low moods.I was really curious about the tools my co-researchers employed in the management of their low moods. At the start of the study, I wondered whether a particular tool or approach would emerge as being most helpful, but this was not the case. What I discovered was a tendency toward using interventions that were highly personal and particular to each woman.
While researchers and mental health professionals can be very insistent about their particular hypotheses and truths about episodes of deep sadness, the participants in my study do not make these same demarcations. There is no conflict between praying each night, beads in hand, and judiciously following a diet that supports even moods, nor is there a conflict between taking medication and meditating. My co-researchers did not divorce physical interventions (e.g., dietary changes, antidepressant medication) from psychological and creative interventions (e.g., psychotherapy, therapeutic writing). The women in this study did not approach management theoretically, they lived it out. For academics and clinicians, demarcations between ideological approaches can be matters of great import. These lines clearly do not exist in the lives of the people mental health professionals aim to help with our work. |