Bipolar Confessions of an Ex-Local Celebrity

New America Media, Commentary, Andrea N. Jones, Posted: Apr 18, 2008

Editor's Note: Britney Spears is blond, gorgeous and, according to Dr. Phil, bipolar. It’s the “bipolar” element that lands her in the tabloids week after week, writes Andrea N. Jones, who says she has learned to accept her own diagnosis and navigate both café society and mental wards with increasing ease. Jones is co-founder of YO! Youth Outlook and The Beat Within.

Britney Spears has captivated the world with a lifestyle that seems unmatched, popping on and off the world stage. The pop sensation has untold material wealth among the movers and shakers of America’s West Coast elite. She’s blond, gorgeous and, according to Dr. Phil, bipolar. It’s the “bipolar” element that lands her in the tabloids week after week, as Americans are always hungry for bad news. “What’s Britney up to now?” we ask.
Andrea N. Jones, co-founder of
YO! Youth Outlook and The Beat Within
I was born a star, like every child born to a loving family. I won second place in a beauty contest at two. At three, I saw my first vision. A jump rope turned into a snake. My older sister told me that this never happened. By four, I was laying hands on the sick and old. The old and sick claimed to my grandmother, an ordained minister, that I made them feel better. By five, I was an artist, selling my paintings door to door in East Oakland for a nickel each one day. I made fifty cents.

At 15 I knew I had found a calling in writing. By 18, my work appeared in USA Today. Then I had a mental breakdown at 22. My world fell apart.

In 1995, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, a mental illness that affects roughly 3 percent of Americans. As much as I wanted to run from the diagnosis, I knew it had to be true. The racing thoughts, the voices and visions, my prolific writing style—it all fit. Not only did I have to deal with my own feelings about my new diagnosis, I had to deal with those of the loved ones around me. Many encouraged me not to take my medicine, telling me that there was “nothing wrong” with me. The pills made me so tired that I would listen to these well-meaning novices and go off my meds. I began to cycle so rapidly that I bounced in and out of mental hospitals, friendships and my family’s good graces.

It’s taken me 12 years to realize that my bipolar condition is lifelong.

It deflates me when people still laugh at Britney Spears. I watched Family Feud a few weeks ago in a San Diego psych clinic while waiting for a Lithium refill to find Ms. Spears’ life the subject of “America’s” survey. The question: What has Britney Spears lost over the past year? I was dismayed to see people laughing at a life stricken by a disease that is still a mystery to most and can be a nightmare for the sufferer.

Some of us don’t believe that a beautiful and talented woman could be mentally ill. Some prefer to label her a diva.

It wasn’t until I looked into her eyes at the checkout stand last year that I knew.

Her eyes were mascara-stained. She sat on a curb in the middle of the night being ceaselessly photographed. Tears blurred her eyes. To, me, she didn’t look spoiled or high, but sad and tired. Like she’d lost her best friend. Like she’d lost herself.

I was like Britney once—young, beautiful and gifted. Envied and admired, whispered about. I was a local celebrity. I was loved and hated like a star. I hung with the San Francisco Bay Area’s 24-hour party people—writers, artists, musicians and filmmakers— the “in” crowd. The “artsy” types were the most fun and, between working two jobs and being on the scene, I didn’t know when to sleep. People knew me as “Nicci Jones” and I was fierce. The problem was that without my meds I didn’t know when the party was over.

Ten years ago I walked away from a promising writing career because my bipolar disorder took over. I walked away defeated, humiliated and an utter failure— that’s how I saw it. I blamed myself for a disease that rendered me unpredictable and unable to hold down a job (without the proper cocktail of meds).

I’ve feared my writing voices, the ones that can keep me up until all hours thinking. The ones that are so desperate to connect to the world that they have no regard for sleep.

If Spears is indeed bipolar, I think the shame of the disease may keep her in the closet for years. For manic-depressives, the fear of a social death keeps us denying while the medication may keep us so tired when all we want to do is be alive.

I’ve found the disease to be both a blessing and a curse. Bipolar disorder offers the stricken with wonderful “superhuman” powers or talents that we dare not speak of even to doctors.

We are tossed in the closet; we are the modern-day witches. We have too been feared and hunted.

As a woman dealing with the illness for as long as I have, I would have some advice for Spears, who may be new to the bipolar scene:

1) Accept the diagnosis. The sooner you do, the sooner you can help yourself and those around you.

2) Get out of town. Chill. It’s your life and you’ve got to beak away from stress. Stress is poison to the bipolar. A bipolar diagnosis is overwhelming. Take your time to take it in.

3) Find fresh starts. Your guest spot on CBS’s “How I Met Your Mother” was great for your self-esteem. People love you. Your new album is doing pretty well to boot.

4) Don’t be afraid to rely on your family. Family will be there no matter what. They are your lifelong best friends.

5) Take your meds. You have to tell your doctors when you’re suffering from the side effects. Be as honest with them as you can. It’s in their best interest that you stay well.

6) Like Tyler Perry’s Madea says, people will talk about you all your life. Get use to it. The most important thing is that you focus on your priorities, your kids, your family and your spirit. Your career will always be with you as long as you stay well.

7) Bipolar is as much a gift as it is a curse. I bet you’re a heck of a multi-tasker. Your strong and smart and those assets will serve you throughout your life. Don’t fear your diagnosis. Embrace it. Have you looked into “Brilliant Madness” author Patty Duke’s face lately? She’s happy.

Today, I’m still fabulous. I navigate both café society and mental wards with increasing ease. I can no longer feel shame for my illness. When I need help, I ask for it. I tell whom I want to tell my business. Unfortunately, Hollywood puts your business in the streets. Now that you’re on your way to changing the name of your game, you’ll help millions and be an even brighter star.

Andrea N. Jones currently attends the Academy of Art University in San Francisco.


Related Articles:

My Mother, A Paranoid Schizophrenic

Going Crazy in My Cell

Being '5150-Ed': How I Loved Living in the Mental Hospital

Hiding the Pain: Suicides High Among Asian Immigrant Women



Page 1 of 1

Printable Version Return to Normal Version Send Page to Friend Subscribe to NAM Newsletters