“I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity. During these fits of absolute unconsciousness, I drank – God only knows how often or how much. As a matter of course, my enemies referred the insanity to the drink, rather than the drink to the insanity.”
– Edgar Allan Poe, “The Tell-Tale Heart”
This is the narrator speaking in Edgar Allan Poe’s classic short story “The Tell-Tale Heart.” But it could be autobiographical. Poetic genius Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) was not only bipolar, but also an alcoholic / addict. A high-functioning one given his prolific body of work.
It appears that Poe rarely spoke in earnest about his bipolar disorder. He didn’t dare speak of his own experience, but echoed his personal feelings through his poetry and short stories. In other words, he spoke of his moods through his art.
But what of his mania? In a letter to poet James Russell, he writes “I have rambled and dreamed away whole months, and awake, at last, to a sort of mania for composition. Then I scribble all day, and read all night, so long as the disease endures.” Classic symptoms of mania – little-to-no sleep and hypercreativity.
In his short story The Man in the Crowd, Poe writes…
“I had been ill in health… but [I] found myself in one of those happy moods, which are so precisely the converse of ennui – moods of the keenest intellect, electrified… merely to breathe was enjoyment. And I derived positive pleasure even from many of the legitimate sources of pain.”
Poe’s poetry oozes with doom and gloom. In the best way possible. It is a feeling that mirrors his mostly depressive episodes. He drank to pacify the depression. Poe only lived to age 40 and his death is unattributed, but scholars suspect it was alcohol and drugs that killed him.
Did Edgar Allan Poe’s addiction fuel his eloquent poetry? Share your thoughts in the comments.
“I found myself in one of those happy moods, which are so precisely the converse of ennui – moods of the keenest intellect, electrified… merely to breathe was enjoyment.” – I remember those days, now made normal with modern meds. I miss those days when colors were full of emotions, my banjo played like the wind. I think when he end comes, I will give up meds and live with the intensity of Poes words.
My son, now 28, was diagnosed with BPD II, rapid cycling, at age 14, after a 9 year diagnosis and treatment for ADHD. His IQ is 146, taught himself to play guitar and writes beautiful poems; yet he flunked out of school and is still living at home, now with his wife and 7 yr. old son.
I am a Critical Care Nurse and Neuroscience is my specialty, so I know the brain. We have used all our financial assets over the past 23 years to try to help him, but he is no better now that he was at 14.
I have done so much research on the disease and it seems the majority of people are intelligent and artistic in some way. Definitely “left-brained” as only 1% of the population are. I read that “Dr. Jekell and Mr. Hyde” was actually Robert Louis Stevenson’s autobiographical rendering of the hell he lived in.
Our son has so much potential but because he has been fired from every job he’s ever had, has no higher education, and has been caught up in the legal system several times, here he sits, at 28, with a family, at home.
I guess I am lucky to still have my creativity. After all, I am writing this book. No doubt, when you are manic, you are hypercreative. The creativity just flows out of you. I do miss that. As a journalist, some of my best stories were written when I was manic. I was completely manic when I wrote the story about Barack Obama and the Creative Class for MTV News. It’s my favorite piece I’ve written. Click on “articles” at the top to read it.
Yes, to be level and ‘normal’ is a sacrifice one makes. No one could understand what that means, except for fellow sufferers. I fought against the change, which was counter productive. Eventually, I decided to cooperate with the meds and therapy. So much was at stake.., job, relationships, social acceptance, etc.. My daughters and family came first. I cooperated with the psychitrist and accepted I had to trust him and the prescriptions. Trying and finding the best combination and dosages was a 12-15 year agonizing process. I wanted to give up and commit suicide every other day. Until…, I admitted myself into a clinic, out of desperation. I saw a pattern of self-destructive choices. I was in trouble with the law. I was forced into a corner. I opened myself to the only hope left. Professional care. I would cooperate fully. Today, I feel really balanced, and actually, hopefully happy, or at least pleasantly enjoying my life and my children. I want to leave behind and forget the physically painful existence I endured for at least 55 years. Im 68. I am happy because my creativity and fountain of ideas is flowing. Just stay the course and trust your caretaker. G.