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By Danny Carr // ´óÏó´«Ã½ The Social contributor // 27 July 2021

Warning - this article contains references that some people may find upsetting.

For as long as I can remember, I knew I wanted to be in the creative world, I wanted to be ‘Danny Carr, the great writer.’ In school, the only class I actually excelled in, was English and I loved writing wee stories.

I hated most of my classes and most of my teachers thought I was a clown, (the feeling was mutual). I couldn’t wait to leave, so I knew when I dropped out of school at fifteen, I knew that I wanted to go to college to study filmmaking.

At first, I tried to own my new diagnosis like a pair of new shoes. I’ve always been a little kooky, so I didn’t take into account how much it may affect my creative life. I felt unsure if it would be a pro or a con?

I wondered if it would actually change anything at all if I’ve had it all this time? There's a stereotype that madness and creativity go hand in hand, “Is this true?” I wondered to my younger self. In short, my answer is no, actually aye, well maybe sometimes…

The diagnosis wasn’t a complete shock, as I had experienced depression when I was fourteen after my great grandad died a slow, painful death. I think that was the first time I had ever felt real depression and looking back on my life, the death of my grandad seemed to be the first seed of the darkness that is depression.

Around the same time I was also diagnosed with epilepsy, which didn’t help matters. I sometimes think that depression is somewhat universal - at some point in life, I think most people will go through a bad bout.

A week after my diagnosis I was put on my first anti-depressants, then a week after that ironically my father killed himself. That was a huge blow to me, I remember feeling numb for a while, then I took a breakdown. I recall one night, my ex-partner woke up, only to find me crying as I repeatedly listened to Roy Orbison’s song ‘In Dreams’, one of my father’s funeral songs. That seed that was planted after my Granda’s death had most defiantly blossomed by then. What a laugh this article is turning out to be…

Personal life aside, how does manic depression affect my creative life? Sometimes I love the thrill of being on a manic high, with delusions of grandeur and genuine bursts of creative spells. While I’m on a high I find myself ready to take on the world, every idea is a great one, every hurdle is easy to jump, no task is too big!

Sometimes while I’m on a high I ask my friends to give me some of their work to do, only to find myself regretting it a week later. Although it can have its good points, being manic is overall a troubling disappointment. I live a life of extreme highs and extreme lows, very little middle ground. I don’t even know what a middle ground feels like, is it any good? Has it a smell?

Ten years on, I got my break and managed to become what I had always wanted. A paid comedy sketch creator, and lately I have noticed my manic depression interfering with my creative life more than usual. Over the years, I had many a night where I would become a weirdo to myself and my suffering partners and family. I would often find myself crying for no apparent reason, no motivation, not wanting to be dead, but wishing I wasn’t ever born.

This was how my life has been for over a decade now. But recently I’ve found my depression creep into my creative work more than it once did.

When I first release a comedy sketch online, I watch the view count rise and rise, and the buzz is electric. If the sketch ends up with a good view count, all of a sudden, I freak out and lose my motivation to make another sketch (the difficult second album).

I feel this flood of fear, fear that my next sketch will be a huge letdown, the next sketch will only disappoint fans of the last one, so what’s the point? Just blank it, never write, nor appear in a sketch ever, ever again! I will never live up to my last triumph. This fearful mindset leads me to sometimes go months without writing, I get too down with anxiety to bother.

Paradoxically, I become even more down because I haven’t made any sketches for a while. It’s a sort of catch 22 that doesn’t stop. With this illness I feel I often know exactly what I’m wanting to do, but I just don’t know if I want to do it.

Near the end of 2020, I had two written sketches. I was ready to make them, then my auld foe depression visited again and managed to talk me out of making either of them. I took another nosedive and couldn’t even imagine making them, and sadly, I didn’t. I had them in the bag then I opened that bag and dumped the contents down the toilet.

Though this explanation can feel a bit doom and gloom, I am making it work. I am still pursuing my dreams and working in an industry that I feel passionate about. I would say to anyone dealing with their own manic creativity, you can use it to your advantage and be a creative powerhouse. That way, you have something on the back burner you can use for when your bad friend shows up again for another unsolicited visit.

If you or someone you know has been affected by the topics covered within this article, you can find information and support here.