A More Perfect Person

With racing thoughts and the usage of psychoactive drugs, I actually thought I could compose a proper essay. In my writing, it was not like holding liquid water but ice, burning in my palms. When I penned “Ayn Rand: The Unknown Ideal Woman” (That Challenge entry can be found below. I still think it is my best effort in nonfiction) I knew I’d be lauded as the top writer and claim gold.

The Vocal Team had other thoughts. It was for the Community Viva in their Challenge essentially for representing the woman who has had such a great impact on our lives. I chose Ayn Rand for her intense, buoyant, defiant and cool aim in spreading her philosophy of Objectivism.

The powers of the mind and her professional and polite way of conveying difficult, harsh realities should be lauded. My way of achieving her spirit and her mission of rationality and selfishness sears through the ideas of defeat and disgust.

For that Challenge, I detailed my mental illness with the bravado and precision of an architect or railroad tycoon. I had thrown every piece of slicing diction and wordplay to ensure my gold place in that Challenge.

If I must critique myself in a flawless appraisal of Miss Rand’s life and her works and their effect on me, I will. It was like flinging open the windows of my mind and letting in the crisp air and cleansing sunshine.

The piece remains in my top three most read stories (so far) and has the most likes of any of my stories. When I think of it, it doesn’t crush me or defile me. In fact, it’s just the opposite. I feel empowered to write even more; to get down to the marrow of the written word and soak it into my consciousness; I plan on doing this in my efforts.

When I chose to include my bipolar diagnosis, that self-edit enlightened me, wrestled with me and ultimately freed me. I felt liberated to tell my story and show why Miss Rand inspired me with her life and works. With the knowledge of her tremendous powers as a genius, I became a vessel to channel all of her wisdom and insight into my essay.

This brought me to a position of understanding that permitted me to bring together Objectivism and mental illness. I’m so focused on writing the next piece, that I don’t have time to wallow in depths of despair or fly high and potentially endanger myself. As a result of that Challenge not going my way, I didn’t sulk. I just kept working, working, working.

That is something I want anyone who has a mental illness or not to grasp. It is always the lowest points that you bounce back up like on a trampoline. That rebound is like diamonds and platinum. The luster that is reflected allows the mind to shine.

What makes this so wonderful is the fact anyone with just a sliver of self-esteem can do whatever they want. Egoism, that often maligned attitude is what gives any individual the gumption to get up and go. As I look at my choice to include my psychiatric history alongside a mastermind like Ayn Rand should engender the thought that no matter what impedes a person, they can discover their flaws and flights of fancy and find something of worth.

To analyze one’s work you have to be like what Ernest Hemingway said about just sitting down to write: “There is nothing to writing. All you do sit down…and bleed.” While I didn’t incur any injuries, the “bleeding” is just as figurative in the mental health space. While Mr. Hemingway could not defeat his demons, I still have the chance. I had to sit down and let go of all inhibitions and tell my story simply. Creation of this space allowed me to better understand myself and what Ayn Rand had to say about literature and philosophy.

I would later discover through a question answered by one of Miss Rand’s associates, philosopher Dr. Leonard Peikoff, who reminded me that my bipolar I disorder had been in line with recognizing existence and reality. I knew I had to keep this part of my nonfiction to propel my narrative missile. To take in the thought of including my possible foibles only strengthened my resolve. It kept me sane then and clear-minded now.

Ayn Rand represents more than just a woman who struck out and made something for herself. Of course she did this, but what I wanted to do is show how she overcame obstacles like track hurdles. I achieved that.

In the case of self-editing you’ve gotta be ready to be fortified with the mind of a champion. It takes grit and toughness to accomplish these feats.

My creative mind always shouts out in the walls of my skull. Some of the shrieks may just be howls into nothingness. I choose to ignore those. It is the choice to use my disability not as a crutch or a vital part of my sensibility to be great or strive to be the greatest. That’s the most beautiful joy in all of this. The necessity to want to thrive and flourish. I have a disease. It doesn’t eat my flesh but it can certainly sap my energy to do my best work at times.

As a result of psychoactive drugs, I’m able to remain as fiery and strong with my diction. I expect to continue despite my condition…and maybe because of it. When I wrote that “Women Who Inspire” Challenge entry I had in my mind to discover and rediscover the roads I had tread. On that pathway to a more perfect person, I have struggled. In all of this, yet, I have learned through mental bruises and lacerations to attain the level of excellence, or something close to it.

I trust myself with writing on a higher plane. It is a constant battle to include my bipolar diagnosis. People react with a mixture of pity and dismissiveness. My goal is not to present myself in either light. I don’t want to be great because of my mental disorder nor do I wish for people to say, “Oh, well, he’s got bipolar that must mean we have to coddle him.” To hell with both of those notions.

In all, I seek to claim what I have earned and only that. Again, I don’t want my bipolar disorder to advance or hinder me. I just want my abilities to illuminate my words and make me into the man of substance I’ve always endeavored to be.