Kaitlin Kenny | Contributor
Featured image: Mental illness isn’t a drive; we thrive in spite of it. | Courtesy of Pexels
There’s always been a troubled artist trope—the haunted writer, anguished painter, or devastated musician—all of them suffering from mental illness or other traumas, and using them to create beautiful and touching masterpieces.
From The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath to Vincent Van Gogh’s self-portrait, the world gets to gaze at the skill and beauty that those affected by mental illness so often produce. It seems that mastery of art can only be achieved by suffering—a sort of initiation—but it is exactly this belief that is shockingly wrong.
I, too, am a haunted writer. I’ve suffered from bipolar type 2, borderline personality disorder, and severe post-traumatic stress disorder since I was a teenager, and have been writing and editing for a number of years as well.
I’ve created and assisted in pieces from a large variety of genres and for a number of people. A common theme I see is about mental illness, especially in poetry and other creative works. For many, this may be the only topic they write about. For a long time, I fell into that category as well.
I created poetry surrounding my mood swings and my greatest fears, and worked almost exclusively with like-minded people. I fell into this “troubled artist trope,” where I relied completely on my mental health to create beautiful pieces. This was my safe haven, and I knew I could write fantastic things there. To me, all of the great writers suffered in one way or another, and I felt that I must as well, in order to create the perfect pieces.
Then, in 2015, everything changed. My health reached an all-time low, and I was very closely observed. I had never had proper health care back in Thunder Bay, and as a result, was misdiagnosed, mistreated, and poorly medicated and monitored. I was suddenly thrust into a world where my mental illnesses needed to be managed, and quickly. I was put into proper treatment, involving close monitoring and plenty of medications. It was time for me to begin the slow road to a functioning bipolar, borderline, and post-traumatic stress sufferer.
My life completely changed, but my writing skill did not. I continued to create quality pieces, and edited for those in need. I broke out of my shell to write bigger and better things from a wide variety of topics. I thought I needed mental illness and suffering to be a good writer, but was clearly mistaken.
Writers do not need to hurt to create beauty. Yes, anguish can serve as an excellent inspiration, but the skill and talent it takes to write is on a different level. This is no indication of whether or not someone can create something excellent—they are completely unrelated. If you can write a meaningful piece about mental illness and being mentally ill, you can write a great piece about anything. Similarly, being cured or treated will not strip away any skill. It comes from within, a flair developed on an entirely separate plane. Without mental illness, even Virginia Woolf and Ernest Hemingway would still be remarkably brilliant and influential writers.
A great writer does not need to hurt in order to be skilled—they were great before, during, and after.
