Contact me now at (255) 352-6258 or complete my booking form to secure your appointment today.
I hadn’t planned on discussing my electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) experience with many people. I found it terrible, scarring, not to mention futile and immensely embarrassing; those aren’t generally feelings I like to talk about. I still find the idea of shock therapy, well, shocking. Incomprehensible. Absolutely impossible.
The problem with being a writer is that you write what you know, and you’re driven to write what plagues you most. At least I am. I can’t write about fluffy bunnies and sparkling rainbows, because these aren’t the things that occupy my conscious mind. But ECT. Ironically it erased pieces of my brain only to seemingly permanently occupy others. I’m acutely aware of its happening and yet find it completely unbelievable.
Almost before I realized it I had written seven pages about my ECT experience for my non-fiction class. Six hours flew by as I tried to find the best words to express the anguish that I didn’t want to talk about. I was scared of every syllable. I was terrified the truth would hurt me even more than it already has. Accuracy seems so sharp.
For me there’s a dual issue. At least. There’s the ECT, and all that implies, then there’s the failure of the treatment, and the fact that going through the treatment with me seems to have caused someone I love to abandon me. I feel like I’ve been stabbed in the brain, told it was my fault, and stabbed in the heart. It’s hard for me to forget about her. Now I live in her town. Too many things remind me of the loss.
I suppose it’s because I went through ECT only a few months ago and I don’t have enough distance and perspective on the experience. Intellectually I can say that it really wasn’t that bad, but somehow I can’t convince my intestines of that. I can’t convince my hind brain that I’m fine and I’m over it. It doesn’t matter.
Compulsion. I had to write it. I couldn’t write anything else. Even now, it seems so difficult for anything else to enter my consciousness. It’s obsessive. I’ve written for six hours about it today and I’m here, writing about it still. Sick little graphomanic mind of mine.
And then the seven pages and I made it to English class. I realized I had to give copies of the story to other people and I had to hear their comments on it. The story’s so sad. The tragedy is so clear when its echoed in the faces of other people. My life so deeply painful. I know. I try not to think about it. And now strangers are thinking about it. I read a story about a guy who loved stuffed animals. And he read about a girl whose brain was electrocuted. It’s an embarrassment of riches I have to talk about.
The voice in my head is screaming to be heard. It defies logic, reason, and common sense. And tone. It’s screeching. It’s making my brain vibrate.
Natasha Tracy is an award-winning writer, speaker, advocate, and consultant from the Pacific Northwest. She has been living with bipolar disorder for 26 years and has written more than 2000 articles on the subject.
Find more of Natasha’s work in her acclaimed book: "Lost Marbles: Insights into My Life with Depression & Bipolar" on Amazon.
Connect with Natasha at the social media links below.
Shopping for someone with a mental illness can feel tricky—you want a gift that actually helps, not just more clutter. This guide walks you through 15 thoughtful, low-pressure mental health gifts that offer real comfort, reduce stress, and say, “I see you and I’m here,” during the holidays and all year.
I’m never going to call bipolar pain a “gift.” Most days, I just want it to stop. But emotional and even physical pain aren’t always random torture—they’re often trying to tell us something. This piece digs into what your pain might be saying, how to listen, and how that can make living with it just a little easier.
After 24 of 30 TMS sessions with no meaningful improvement, I wrote the guide I needed: why failed treatment hurts, how to get through the next 72 hours, and what to ask your clinician now.
Subscribe to my monthly newsletter to get the latest from Bipolar Burble, Breaking Bipolar, my vlogs at bpHope, my masterclasses, and other useful tidbits -- plus get a FREE eBook on coping skills.
Hi Herb,
Sorry in my delay to response, your email just ended up in the corner of my inbox.
Thank-you for the compliment, as always.
As for my friend, well, blame isn't really necessary, and yes, it's a lack of strength on her part causing her behavior. I understand that. It doesn't make me feel any better from this side of the ECT machine though.
Yes, I agree that ECT is a treatment to be considered. I evaluated it. Others should too. It does work for some people.
As for my VNS, I'm really maxed out in terms of what I can withstand for stimulation. It is still activated. It still causes some pain and cuts out my voice every time it activates. I will be talking to a doctor about it, but as I've moved to a relatively small town, on an island, it's kind of hard to get to a doctor who works with VNS.
– N
I want to take a quick moment to first compliment you on your writing abilities. It seems you and Susan amongst others are both gifted with the means of expressing yourselves especially as it relates to subject matters too many folks would rather turn their backs upon. Quite frankly, so would I but I made my choice over 4 decades ago.
Your friend or what you thought is your good friend is not to be blamed. I think she’s simply immature and incapable of dealing with your illness (as are many when it relates to serious mood disorders) and lacks the understanding and compassion for your desperation and struggles while also making these most difficult medical choices in order to achieve some degree wellness.
Unlike you my spouse and I are fortunate to have caring, compassionate, understanding and true friends that have traveled the road with us these many years. Although distant, obvious to me, cyber-writers such as you and Susan attract friends both interested and supportive toward your wellbeing. Certainly a real-life friend to share the warmth of a caring hug would be far better but one at times has to take whatever is available.
As I stated previously I admire your writing skills although I don’t necessarily agree with what you have to say as it relates to certain subjects but I certainly respect and read your points carefully such as your thoughts about ECT. From my perspective it is a treatment option to be carefully considered and it was a beneficial treatment option for my spouse, when needed, and in her case lacks the drama which brings me to another point.
I’m curious if your adjunctive VNS Therapy is still active and whether you’ve addressed making any parameter changes in order to try and improve your mood state.
As always, I wish you wellness.
Warmly,
Herb
VNSdepression.com
You are an amazing writer. I'm not sure where, or how, but there is a sound place in this world for you – for your experiences, for your talent and for your pain. It appears so obvious to me that you have a very definite purpose here and I know this by reading the beauty that oozes from you. Do not stop my friend, it will be what saves you in the end.
This is one of the most harrowing pieces of prose I've ever read. As I told Susan when she sent me this link, your writing "actually makes me feel your anguish," and cringe – it's so masterfully written.
I am wishing you peace. Currently, I'm writing about ECT, but not my own experience, a friend's, as she journeys through her first treatment course.
Take care. And please keep writing.
I wish wish wish I had a time machine so you and I both could not have had this treatment. It still hurts to write about it, you write about like I wish I could.
I agree with Anonymous. Thank you for writing this piece it's stunningly beautiful.
Maybe a brown, paper grocery bag filled with a nice cabernet, fresh raspberries, dark chocolate and clove cigarettes could stop the vibration…if I could, I would send one to ya…