The Imperative to Write a Memoir About Bipolar

I spoke with Charita Cole Brown, who wrote a memoir Defying the Verdict, about living with bipolar.

ML: Why was writing your memoir so important to you, and was it part of your healing and acceptance process?

CCB: Writing Defying the Verdict was important to me because it came as a charge. Joyce Meyer, the religious speaker, said everyone has a "one." In 2009, I read that. Everybody has at least one thing that God wants them to do.

When I prayed and meditated on it, the thing that came back to me was that I needed to write a memoir.

In 2011, I had reconstructive surgery on my neck, and it went amazingly well at Hopkins. I wanted to go to Hopkins for rehab, but my insurance didn’t cover it, so I went elsewhere. Where I went actually overmedicated me with Dilaudid, which is like morphine.

I got really sick. [The medication] shifted the speech centers in my brain. One of my sisters who came said I was speaking in nursery rhymes, and that’s how I knew. It was a terrible period. I started moving toward the book in 2013 because I knew no one is guaranteed to live long enough that they can put their message out. That was the thing that kicked me.

I studied English at Wesleyan University. I took writing courses at Hopkins. It wasn’t like I was being asked to do something that I didn’t have the ability to do. I decided finally that I should write it. I wrote Defying the Verdict in 2015, and it was published in 2018.

ML: It took a big scare that you might not be able to and run out of time.

CCB: Yes.

ML: Your memoir opens with hospital intake notes, so readers’ introduction to you is colored with a professional subjective understanding of who you were at that time. What led you to open to the book at that point?

CCB: It was important, especially for people who see me now in nearly 30 years of recovery; they say it can’t be true that I have a bipolar diagnosis. Initially, I put a frame around the records. Then I said to my editor, why don’t we take that frame off? Let’s start every chapter with a quote. Let’s look at what it really looked like in 1982 when I had a psychotic break.

There was no better way for me than to stare the words down, put those hospital records out there, and let people read that because records don’t lie.

ML: For other Black community members experiencing the depression and manic cycles of bipolar, what did you learn on your journey about genetics, triggers, and insight into yourself that could help light their way?

CCB: The second chapter of my book is the story of my grandmother as I remember her when she had a psychotic break in our home when I was a child. I wanted people to understand I was dealing with genetic predisposition. Clinicians say people can have bipolar who don’t have a genetic predisposition.

On my maternal side, there’s bipolar and major depression, which are two of the three most serious mental health challenges. The third is schizophrenia.

My family history has two of the three, and for me, it was important to put that there. I am definitely a Black person. In our community, we like to say we’re too strong for something like that to happen to us. I’m a lovely Black woman and a Christian, but there are other things I need in order to stay well. I have a whole plan.

I think the problem for our Black community is we haven’t been trained that this is okay. There’s so much shame on the inside. My life was about being smart, and unfortunately, when I got sick, nobody told me people with bipolar are very cerebral. I thought I wasn’t smart anymore. African-Americans and people of color have to know that it’s okay to seek help.

When it comes to mental health, we have to create a culture – meaning how we do things around here – where it’s okay not to be okay. Around the same time that Regina King’s son died by suicide, my niece’s friend lost her best friend to suicide. He hanged himself.

When things are bad, we need a culture where it’s not so bad that suicide is seen as a solution. We can talk and cry and have a horrible time rather than attend a funeral.

ML: That’s worth reflecting on. Maybe subconsciously, through the media, stories, and movies, mental illness looks like people just snap. People freak out; they don’t know what to do. So, I internalized that stigma. I thought it wasn’t me freaking out; it was me with an expanded awareness. I didn’t want to take the pills because, in my mind, they led to the psych ward. When in truth, it’s the pills keeping me out of the psych ward.

CCB: One of my younger brothers said many years ago to stop calling my pills drugs. It’s medication. That’s right. I take medication. After I wrote the book, he said that a Black man would rather be known as a junkie or an alcoholic rather than have someone think they’re crazy. It was an a-ha!

That really is truth. We have to be in communities that allow people to see that you can get better. The reason I’m better is I finally accepted my mental health diagnosis.

Defying the Verdict comes from a Norman Cousins quote. Don’t defy the diagnosis. It is what it is. Defy the verdict by living your life. The book chronicles the amount of time it took.

ML: What else did you learn?

CCB: I learned therapy practices, and I’m a Christian. I created my own wellness plan. Then in 2019, I learned about boundaries and the importance of setting them. It’s the people I’m closest to with whom I have the hardest time setting boundaries. I’m blessed to share with people, but I can only share from a full cup.

I can’t give up what I need for myself to live well. If I’m not feeling well, then I need to identify my triggers and get rest. I do my best to stay out of stressful situations. My dad was hospitalized on November 2, 2019, and I was the manager of his care. He passed away in hospice on December 8th.

I had a plan. I made sure I was sleeping at night, taking my medication, and talking to my psychiatrist. I got a therapist because I needed help getting through the caregiving. My chief accountability partner was my sister. I relied heavily on her, but a plan is helpful.

Everything my sister had taught me, I knew. I absorbed it. I have a severe mental illness. And I am living my best life. I want people to have hope and understand it’s something they can replicate and live well. I’m on the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) Board of Directors in Maryland, and I’m proud of that.

ML: Thank you so much for your time and for writing your experience. Where can readers find out more about what you’re doing and connect with you?

CCB: https://namibaltimore.org/

If you or someone you love is contemplating suicide, seek help immediately. For help 24/7, contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK, or reach out to the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

To find a therapist near you, visit the Psychology Today Therapy Directory.