Throughout the course of Being Bipolar, going back fourteen years now on-and-off, I have written extensively about the disease and its consequences. Those being the episodes, the medications, the affects on my faith, how it's altered my outlook on life... lots of things.
It struck me in the past few days that maybe it's time for another edition of Being Bipolar. And perhaps it's time to change things up a bit.
I've been defined by this disease for too long. I've let it touch upon aspects of my life that should have by all rights been mine, not a chronic misfire of my neurobiology. Unfortunately that's what I've allowed to happen.
And I'm finally sick and tired of it.
I'm fifty years old, going on fifty-one. For fully half of my life I've had to struggle against a mind turned against itself. Something that has cost me careers, friendships, a vibrant relationship with God, and even a marriage.
It's time I take back my life and everything pertaining to it. I'm in a place where I believe I'm finally able to do that.
In a week and a half I begin a new career. One that will let me help other people, much as I did when I was at the state mental health department. It will require intensive training. It will also require much patience. It will certainly require a focused mind and an empathy for others. It will call upon skills and experiences that I have gained at various times throughout the course of my life but have not had to employ for quite awhile. But it will be personally rewarding. It will have me feeling accomplished every day when I leave, and eager to come back the next morning. It will also, I have to believe, be a little fun.
This job comes after more than two years of a career drought. I had to depart from my position at the mental health department because the economy turned bad and I wasn't able to afford living on it. Exiting that was one of the worst things that ever happened to me. I had to leave behind many good people. People who I worked with and the people I was helping on a regular basis. I became part of their lives and they became part of mine. I miss them.
I've been without reliable income all this time. And I have had to rely on help from others to get me through. It's not an enviable situation, but it was having to accept reality. Maybe God has needed me to go through this. Perhaps it's His way of making me more thankful for the blessings He has given me. Perhaps it's making me hungrier, to be the person He made me to be as I've never been before.
I am ready for the new career. And now maybe I'm ready for other things, too. The things that have mattered for most of my life.
Throughout this time without a real career, I have had to put my writing on hold. I've been too busy trying to stay afloat, keeping my head up in spite of the financial difficulties. It's not just for my own sake: there is also my dog Tammy, who I promised my father as he was dying that I would take care of her. I can't let him down.
I've lost my writing. Something that my freshman English teacher in high school told me was my gift. That's something I've tried to exercise and cultivate ever since. When I was seventeen I began writing for publication. I thrived on that. It led to some really amazing opportunities, like working at a couple of newspapers (okay, one of them turned out to be a swindling operation, but that was not my fault) and being an associate editor of a major pop culture website. I've maintained a blog for more than two decades.
The past two years caused me to lose my touch. I know it. I can recognize it. It's one of the worst things that's ever happened to me. And in great part it's not only because of struggling for better employment, it's because of the bipolar disorder and especially the meds I take to manage it.
The meds take a lot out of me. They take my edge off. Have stricken me of much of my passion. I'm not the Chris Knight who I used to be. I can't write as I once did. And a few weeks ago it struck me that if I were to engage in community theatre again, I couldn't be as good an actor as I had been when I was living back in North Carolina.
I've become someone different from the person I once was.
But I believe that I can find it again. And that's what this installment of Being Bipolar is about.
Two months ago I finished writing my first book. It's a memoir. Actually, it's more like two or three mushed together into a cohesive autobiography. Every phase of my life - childhood, the Christian school and then transition to public education, the Elon years, the onset of manic depression, my marriage, coming to terms, the year spent driving across America, the "chrysalis" stage - is included. The book is something that I've spent ten years of on and off laboring upon, and now it's done. I was able to commit three months of solid work, when I wasn't eating or sleeping or a part-time job or playing with Tammy, on the manuscript. It was very difficult. It demanded a lot of me. But in the end it was done. I'm hoping to eventually see it published. If it can make it to a real brick-and-mortar bookstore's shelf then that will be a supreme accomplishment.
Doing that showed me that maybe I haven't lost all of my touch after all.
Earlier this month (January 2025) I began an endeavor. That being to write a new op-ed piece every week for the rest of the year. Hopefully for publication elsewhere but if not when I'll post the essays here on The Knight Shift. It's already been a challenge. I have come to spend my Saturday and Sunday evenings (helpful hint to self: a lot of work can be done while Svengoolie on MeTV is on every Saturday night) thinking about new pieces and composing the with my iPad Pro. As of this writing I've had two pieces published. And it's sparked my inner fire again. Like Rocky Balboa I'm re-discovering "the eye of the tiger", the part of me that enjoys taking part in the arena of ideas in this world. That's been gone too long. And now I'm doing something about it.
So committing to write op-ed commentary articles is going to be one part of a greater project. I'm going to strive to bring the original Chris Knight back, absent the occasional depression and racing thoughts. In writing, and also in other ways. Who knows, maybe I'll be back on stage again sometime in the future, collaborating with others on a theatrical production. If that desire is there, then I have to believe the drive and the ability and the raw passion is there too, waiting to be uncovered.
It may take awhile. But it will be worth it. At fifty I don't believe that I'm done with life yet. Not by a long shot. Manic depression has taken a lot from me, but there is still plenty of time to make the most of my life. Hey, maybe I'll even be blessed with a relationship again someday. I would be very thankful for that.
In the meantime though, there is zest for life and the hunger to make an impact on this world for the better to find again and cultivate. I aim to play that particular sword to the hilt.
Expect the unexpected from here on out. That is my mission.
