Nov. 2023: The stories we tell

Reviving my creative self and weaving narratives of hope

Dear friends,

First, just so it be known: I gave up on NaNoWriMo on the second day. I realized that I had yet again given myself too much to attend to in a time when my energies and capacities were not reliable. And then, just a few days after that, I ended up in the hospital again. It was my choice — I have never been hospitalized involuntarily, which is a scarier situation legally — but I felt nagged to make that choice by my therapist and psych nurse. The only thing clear in my ambivalence was that I was struggling, and I needed help somehow.

So I was back again in the friendly and funky LGBTQ unit of Malvern. The familiarity was both warm and cruel. The medication they put me on the last time was clearly not working enough, so I got put on more meds. Meanwhile, I switched into depression, and I despaired over my current situation. I have lost so much because of my struggle: I lost my library job (well actually I quit it because I was too stressed out) as well as the choral accompanying gig, which I had felt so excited about. It felt eerily like certain moments of my first two years of college when exciting, hopeful plans became repeatedly disrupted by crises happening in the world, on my campus, or within myself. My life feels cyclical in too many ways.

When I got out of the hospital, I felt overwhelmed. A depressive state came over me again, and I initially couldn’t connect with any of my interests. Luckily, Thanksgiving was soon, and that gave me some extra time to rest before picking back up responsibilities like maths tutoring. I went home for the holiday, which my family doesn’t really celebrate as no one is a fan of turkey or vegan turkey and all my extended family is in China. But we did hang out altogether for a couple days, which was for me pleasanter than usual. I think my parents are being slightly more delicate with me given what I’ve gone through, which is, well, better than the opposite.

As my depression lifted and my energetic personality returned, I endeavored to get back to work: on a composition memorializing a Haverford College student who died of suicide last spring. Now, this has definitely been a strange assignment, given that I did not know the student, and given my own recent struggles with suicidal ideation. I had offered this to the student’s family from a place of having shared with him two things: a love of piano, and an experience of crisis. I did not know then that my creative process would be interrupted by exhausting mood episodes and hospitalizations, during which this student would frequently visit my thoughts.

Over the Thanksgiving weekend, I tried to get the last quarter of the piece done. But despite my energy having returned, I suffered a severe creative block. Not only could I not compose, but I also couldn’t write my usual weekly Substack post, and piano playing and even initially singing did not excite me. What is going on? I asked myself, interrogated myself. Am I psyching myself out because I’m feeling normal?

People like to romanticize some relationship between creativity and mental illness, and the case of bipolar, with its inspired highs and despairing lows, seems quintessential of the mad genius narrative. The truth is, every creative person with bipolar has to figure out and define for themselves a healthy relationship with both their creativity and their emotional intensity. The ultra-rapid cycling I went through has definitely impacted my relationship with spirituality and creativity. But how would I tell a new story of my creative self?

Eventually I gave up trying to compose, hoping that my creative longings would return if I took a break from music. In the meantime, I obsessed over a new book I got, Strangers to Ourselves: Unsettled Minds and the Stories that Make Us, by Rachel Aviv. It tells the stories of people who experience various forms of crisis, distress, and extreme states and the conflicts that arise between different narratives of extremes: the Western biomedical model is only one perspective; psychoanalysis, mysticism, trauma, social/critical theory, and individually created narratives are other ways to conceptualize experiences that are more meaningful for some people. I began to detach a little from bipolar as an identity, perceiving it more as an approximation necessary for medical purposes and useful for finding others with whom I can connect.

Driving back to my apartment, I listened to the original Broadway cast recording of Next to Normal. There was something that I was seeking. Then I realized that the musical is about a bipolar woman (and her family) who struggles with the shifting narratives of her life: she rejects the stability of medications in part because her extremes have become how she defines herself; she cannot cope with the long-ago death of her son because she fixates on the life that could have been. Despite the risks of her rejecting further treatment towards the end, there is hope for the next stage of her life, as she knows now that she needs to live a new narrative.

This is a pivotal stage of my life, and my sense of self must evolve through it. It is, as I like to say, like being a composer of life.

On Tuesday, I showed to my piano teacher from Haverford a section of the piece that was complete. She suggested that I just perform that section. I felt more at ease, but now I really wanted to finish the piece and tell the story as I envisioned it. So I got to work and finished the piece the next day. Clearly, the permission not to finish made it somehow easier for me to finish. But I think I was also starting to rewrite my narrative of myself. As I worked on the piece, I lost interest in eating, frequently spoke and growled at myself, and became generally physically energetic. Someone watching me, knowing that I had bipolar, might have raised concern, but I was not afraid. This was just me. I am intense, and to an extent that is safe, I like it.

Announcements

The memorial concert for Nathan Moore is this Monday, Dec. 4th at 7:00pm at Haverford College. Details are here. Nathan’s piano teacher (who was also mine) as well as several piano students will be performing mostly music of Romantic composers. My composition, “the stars that grace the night,” which I will be performing, will conclude the concert.

I’ve actually been doing this for some while, but I haven’t mentioned it before: I help with stage management at the once-a-month Szalon hosted by Philly composer Andrea Clearfield. They are chamber concerts with eclectic programs featuring performers of diverse genres and cultures of music, performing either in person or virtually. They are really cool, and you should consider attending in person or through Zoom! The next Szalon is on Sunday, Dec. 17th.

In case you missed it

Here are my two posts from earlier this month:

Featured Creator

This month I’m featuring Margaret Tianyuan Zheng, who is my two-thirds name twin, a.k.a. Martian twin. A visual explanation:

Her name: Margaret Tianyuan Zheng

My name: Margin Tianya Zheng

We are not related. To our knowledge. Margaret is from China, and a lot of Chinese people have the same last name. She is just a few months older than me. We learned of each other when we attended two related summer maths programs the summer before 12th grade, and the director noticed that we were two-thirds name twins. (Yes, I had a different name then. We were still two-thirds name twins.) We turn out to have similar interests and even, according to some, a similar writing style.

Margaret recently graduated from MIT with a double major in mathematics and CS/Economics/Data Science and a minor in music. She is currently back at MIT working on her Master of Engineering degree in CS/Economics/Data Science.

Margaret is known for creating and popularizing Wide Tim (@wide_tim on Instagram), a jolly beaver character double majoring in eating and sleeping whose mission is to spread positivity and advocate for arts and student culture at MIT. She was also a muralist, animator, and a past co-president of Borderline Murals, an artist and co-publicity chair on Ring Committee 2023, an MIT Arts Scholar, and a lead counselor for First-Year Arts Program for 2 years. In her free time, she enjoys creating digital illustrations, drawing comics, and spontaneously playing grand pianos on campus.

Website: https://www.margezart.com

Instagram: @marge_z_art

A Contemplative Offering

What stories do you tell about yourself? How do these stories shape your life?

I am often torn between the stances of the activist and of the philosopher: the activist must be firm in their beliefs and act promptly, the philosopher must be flexible in their thinking and act cautiously. There can be danger and excess in either, but finding a balance can be difficult in a world that yells at each other and yet bleeds profusely.

When do I become an activist, and when a philosopher? When, perhaps, am I something else?

Harmony, health, and happiness,

Margin | 天涯