Creating My Life

By Thomas Gagnon

At some point, I decided that I wanted to thrive rather than survive, as my high school friend Rebecca put it. I did not want to languish my way through my days, and hope for a miracle, from another pill or the intervention of the Virgin Mary. This meant focused action on my own behalf. I had role models for gainful focused action in my own family. My parents, for two examples. My father fought for a Boston campus of the University of Massachusetts in the early '60s. Finally, it opened in September, 1965. My mother Mona, like my father a professor, filed a sex discrimination lawsuit against the university that without reason did not tenure her. She lost the lawsuit, but she went on to write books about American government and women in the professions, for Knopf.

So, two heroes in my own family, to emulate in my drive for a thriving life. A third hero is my mother's mother, Alice. As a child, I had seizure disorder and speech disorder. I felt like a walking problem. She made me feel like a walking wonder. She enjoyed my (very early) stories; she knitted me sweaters of beauty and intricacy; she played challenging games of Scrabble with me. She gave me irreplaceable attentiveness. From Alice, I got what I call the "ethic of generosity."

Terrific. I had three heroes in my own family. But, when I hit bipolar disorder at 16 and generalized anxiety disorder (GAD) in my early twenties, I initially did a lot of collapsing, meaning inpatient psychiatric hospitalization. After my last such hospitalization in 1995, I was determined to get well and stay well. These hospitalizations were not restoring me to health. Somehow, I would have to restore me to health, with the help of outpatient mental health professionals: a psychiatrist and a therapist. But most of wellness, I soon understood, was up to me and my choices. In a word, self-determination.

My first choice was a master's degree in a subject that I loved: creative writing and literature. Perhaps I was thinking, isn't doing what you love the thing these days? I did not, however, love the program, and it was expensive. I remembered, back at the BU Center for Psychiatric Rehabilitation, teacher Larry Kohn proclaiming the importance of cost/benefit. Emerson MFA: high cost/imperceptible benefit. I left within the year.

I was not yet choosing to emulate my three family heroes. First, more trial-and-error. Moe Armstrong (I used to work for Vinfen Corporation, where he works) suggested that I contribute to Spare Change, a street newspaper about homelessness. The editor-in-chief, Linda Larson, liked my writing, and I contributed movie reviews, articles, and interviews for about five years. The Boston Business Journal liked my reviews. I was discovering two things about myself: 1) my writing was a skill and 2) I was contributing this skill to a disadvantaged group. My grandmother's "ethic of generosity" in action. I felt that something was going well.

Unfortunately, it wasn't financially gainful. No money meant no self-support. How could I be truly well without self-support? How could I be truly well as long as I was tied in to my parents financially? An end to all this anxious self-questioning occurred in Goshen, Massachusetts, at my uncle's family's country house. My father was sitting at the kitchen table, probably talking to my uncle, Dana. Standing and looking at my father, I recalled that my mother had once urged him to write the true story of the University of Massachusetts/Boston; at the time, he declined. What if I asked him now?-my second choice. I had the writing skill. He had the saga. He might say, yes. He did say, yes. Fantastic! Something had come together, and I was on the road to focused action. I was healing.

Derailment did occur, but this time, instead of collapsing, I managed. I more than managed.

My father did not complete the book. I told myself I was disappointed; actually, I was hurt and angry. I had interviewed him; I had researched in the university archives; I had compiled all the data by theme. Hard work for me, and he was moving on to other projects, sorry. Okay, I will move on to another project. While my father preoccupied himself with state standards of education, I decided to write a novel. Chapters, characters, plotlines took off. This was focused action in my own behalf.

Meanwhile, after graduating from a master's in education, my mother persistently pushed education job leads at me. I followed them up dutifully; none of them led anywhere. This led to frustration and depression. I had to ignore my mother.

To get back on a course to wellness, I needed to create my own employment plan (even if it was what I called gainful unemployment). This took time.

I committed myself to completing the novel. A therapist had stressed completion for its own sake, and I had liked the idea.

After writing an article for Spare Change on Ecclesia, a Boston ministry for homeless people, I joined Ecclesia. I respected its combination of Christianity and social service. I spoke about the "ethic of generosity" at an Ecclesia service, and I contributed to Ecclesia as I could-most recently, two articles to its newsletter.

Since February, 2004, I chose two focused actions on my own behalf: tutoring and freelance writing. I currently tutor for an agency at the South Shore Mental Health Center, and I am trying to raise more funds for a tutoring program there. Meanwhile, though it is not lucrative, it is satisfying. Over this year, I have contributed creative writing to "Polar's Express," eXpressions Journal, and a website called "swankwriting." I primarily write for "Voices for CHANGE," an excellent mental health advocacy newsletter in Dorchester. Thus, I am achieving a sense of identity, a crucial part of wellness.

Meanwhile, back at the therapy session. I am talking out my rage at my mother, and it occurs to me that I am proud of her. I am proud that she filed that sex discrimination law suit. I am proud that, after the lawsuit disaster, she wrote and got published, at Knopf. Both my parents, I realized, were fighters. My grandmother leaned toward generosity.

A generous fighter-a gainful and healthy identity I could focus action on creating.

Thomas Gagnon is a writer living in Boston and a member of MDDA.