When I was diagnosed, I was 24, in the height of the Covid-19 pandemic. I took my diagnosis VERY hard. I truly went through the stages of grief as I processed it, navigating my way through to acceptance. Which was not a quick process. But I'm so thankful I allowed myself to feel those harsh feelings about it because I think it was necessary for me to ultimately thrive.
After my bipolar diagnosis, I started writing through the things I was afraid to talk about, even to my therapist. I began to write stories that reflected different parts of my mental health journey and it helped me piece things together, in a way. I think my diagnosis scared me so badly at first because I was afraid I'd lose my “funny” if I was medicated. But I found that to be completely the opposite. A healthier mind is a sharper mind is a funnier mind.
My cycle of mania and depression does have a big effect on how I create. For example, I wrote my entire first solo show in a few sleepless days during a manic episode. So it's really easy to throw something together when you're manic, but the trick is to figure out how to maintain it when you're depressed. When I'm in a depressive episode, I find myself reflecting a lot more, focusing more on the quieter parts, the harder parts. Mania helps me write, depression helps me feel. They both come with huge challenges but learning how to work with my episodes instead of against them has been a huge thing for my art.
Breaking Stigma Through Openness
Honestly, when I was first diagnosed, I didn't even want to tell my mom. It took me a year to work up the courage to tell my friends what was really going on. So it's still a bit weird for me, five years in, to be so open and honest about it. But I think it's important. Bipolar disorder gets such a bad rep and my goal has always been for a) someone struggling to see my jokes or my comedy and think, “Okay, she's laughing about it… maybe I can too,” and b) to challenge people's perception of bipolar.
I'm not some crazed, automatically bad person because of this diagnosis. No one is. I've had a hairdresser (not knowing anything about me) spend my whole appointment complaining about how much she hates people with bipolar and that kind of thing just doesn't sit right with me. There's so much stigma around mental illness in general but when it comes to bipolar, it can be extremely discouraging. So I want to make people struggling feel seen and people who struggle to accept us see that we're just regular folks.
I think my online identity and my bipolar diagnosis were forming about the same time so my entire comedy career has been sort of centered around it in a way. I found my comedic voice through talking about my disorder, working through my feelings about it, so I think it's something people have long associated me with. It scared me big time at first but the more I did it, the more people responded to it. Not just other people with bipolar disorder but people with other mental illness, people who know someone with bipolar, even folks who just didn't know much about it. I consider myself extremely privileged to be able to talk openly about it and to have built a platform where I can help other people feel seen.
The Humanity of Bipolar
I wish people knew that bipolar isn't all negative. It's moments of pure humanity, empathy, and emotion that other people aren't as tapped into as we are. We truly experience the full range of human emotions and have had to sit with that in our quiet moments. The moments at 4AM when no one is awake to hear our thoughts. The moments after therapy when we have to sit with who we are and what the work towards betterment looks like.
We have to sit with tears and pain and fear and joy and ecstasy in ways that most people will never experience. And as much as it sucks sometimes, I think it's beautiful too. In a way, I think we're more human because of the quiet moments, even when those moments are hard.
Balancing Performance and Self-Care
It's definitely a lot trickier for me than many performers. I have to be very, very aware of my sleep, my energy levels, if I'm eating, and if I'm emotionally okay after a fairly heavy show. I take care of myself by making sure I give myself time to slow down and have a routine, even in these huge festivals where it's “go go go” all the time. It means journaling after every show so I can check in with myself and make sure I'm not holding onto things that won't serve me.
I also lean on the folks around me pretty heavily some days. My husband travels with me and does the tech for my show so sometimes taking care of myself just looks like sitting on the couch with him and watching our show and letting him hold me while I come back to earth a little bit. Performing is a high and like any high, it can be addictive. So I take care of that part of me that wants to chase the high by slowing down and forcing myself to rest, even when that's hard.
Inspiration and Looking Ahead
Taylor Tomlinson is like, my personal hero. Not only is she incredible and hilarious and open and honest, she has bipolar disorder! And she's super successful. When I was first diagnosed, she was coming out with her jokes about her own diagnosis and she was one of the first people who made me feel like I could do something similar. Her comedy made me feel like “Yeah, okay. I could laugh at myself some more.”
I also have a personal friend who's an incredible advertising copywriter and musician who truly has made all the difference the last few years. She's the person I've turned to more than anyone for understanding because she gets it. She makes incredible art and ads and it inspires me to continue chasing those things myself and to continue to find more people with bipolar who need artistic expression to truly understand themselves.
So my next show has the working title of “Baby Bipolar” because it's about being diagnosed and looking back at all the moments that led me to that diagnosis, all framed by the stages of grief. I want it to be funny and heartfelt and impactful but I also want it to be a celebration. Because I'm okay now. I'm better than okay, really. The show is about the time in my life when I was surviving and I get the opportunity to tell it from the perspective of someone who's now thriving with this disorder.