Ah, there's nothing like making light of mental illness. Technically I am allowed to because I have it. I've conquered depression and anxiety but I'm still stuck with a little Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It ain't like it used to be when I was a young, neurotic child. I don't experience OCD in the intense constant-hand-washing or light-switch-flicking way, but more in a general need for tidyness and aesthetic symmetry. Fortunately, I don't think the world is going to end if I don't put the dishes in the sink or arrange the cans of vegetables alphabetically*. I just prefer things to be this way in my home. You can do what you like in your place.
*I don't actually do these things. It's hypothetical.
I guess while I'm here having a rant, I may as well voice what bothers me most about mental illness in popular culture. And that's the stigma and accompanying ignorance. It's ok to say you have diabetes at the dinner table and consequently refuse a piece of chocolate mud cake, but say you have a mental illness and refuse a glass of wine due to the medication you take and one instantly becomes a social leper. Double standards much?
I understand that mental illness in all it's shapes and sizes is essentially beyond the comprehension of most of us. If you see someone with blood oozing out of their knee, it is easy to identify and heal. The blood is visible, the pain understandable and the cessation of the bleeding an obvious resolution. Yet the inner turmoil of a mentally ill mind, the pain and the (sometimes unachievable) cure are neither visible nor understandable.
I recently read the following article from The Age newspaper, published January 1st 2010.
The thought of the audition notice makes me giggle. I imagine it posted on pub walls and reading, "Singer wanted. Must have rocking vocals, performance experience and be craaaazy." Only this band - Melbourne's BiPolar Bears - really means it. Then there's the reason why they need a new singer. Their old one got off drugs and got her head together.
Yeah, I know. You're not meant to laugh about mental illness. But I'll confess an urge to chuckle whenever I see these little green tins of liquorice mints labelled "Mental" in an old milk bar. And a fondness for the phrase "crazy in the coconut".
It's a modern myth to say that there's nothing funny about mental illness. People who've had it know that. As actor, comedian and reported bipolar sufferer Robin Williams says: "Freud: If it's not one thing, it's your mother."
The members of the BiPolar Bears - a 15-year-old band featured in a new SBS documentary that has played everwhere from the Sydney Opera House to psych wards and with rock gods from Tim Rogers to Russell Morris - know all the shades of black. Many of their lyrics are written by Dan McGuiness. Diagnosed with schizophrenia as a teenager, Dan speaks about the friendly voices in his head, the ones who suggested he fly to New York and kept him so busily engrossed in chat that he forgot to be scared while living on the streets there for six months. Another band member describes driving and hearing a voice so distinct that he switched off the radio, listened, looked around and, when it continued, came to the conclusion that he was receiving divine communication.
There's more from singers auditioning for the band - a stunning woman with anxiety that getting to rehearsal is almost overwhelming. Or the winger who feels as if she's "constantly on show" or "being watched", not with the band, it turns out. Narrated by Tex Perkins, this series sometimes feels like a community service announcement (band members reveal statistics on Bob Dylanesque cards) and though they rock solidly, they are unlikely to set the charts on fire. There's the list of famous musos who've suffered from bipolar disorder - from Beethoven to Britney Spears - that will spark chicken-and-egg discussions about head health and the rock lifestyle. More striking are the interviews about having schizophrenia or taking 2700 pills a year.
Maybe it's because these guys are managing their helath well and can reflect on it lucidly. Maybe it's because this isn't ostensibly a show about mental illness, but rather a look at their band. But it's rare to see such relaxed and candid interviews about the subject. These are not the psycho villains usually seen on our screens.
There have been responsible examinations of teen suicide (Australian Story) and the entertaining personalities played by Toni Collette in United States of Tara. But The BiPolar Bears has a levity and clarity to it, perhaps because its players have found something that drummer Rob describes as better than sex and drugs: rock'n'roll. - Lucy Beaumont.
No, the mentally ill are not psycho villains that live in the screenplay of script writers. They are your friends, family, the person you work with.
Laughing about mental illness may be offensive to some, but it isn't to me. Laughing at a person with mental illness is as funny as laughing at a person with a physical illness. But laughing alongside them to help them (and those around them) cope is great. Along the way, this laughter may break down some barriers and get people talking.
Tune in and make up your own mind. Secrets and Lives: The BiPolar Bears screens on SBS One starting Thursday January 7.
