Santa Claus as an Analogy for Bipolar Mania

By Gabe Howard







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It occurred to me the other day that the Christmas season, in all its grandiosity, is the best analogy for mania I’ve ever thought of.

I love the Christmas season. The lights, the tackiness, and amazing stories of a fat man flying through the night sky all make me smile. I love that cutting down a tree, dragging it into my house, and putting lights and baubles on it is not only acceptable this time of year, but encouraged.

It occurred to me the other day that the Christmas season, in all its grandiosity, is the best analogy for mania I’ve ever thought of. As someone who lives with and writes about bipolar disorder, I am always on the hunt for the perfect way to help people without bipolar disorder understand the various aspects of living with this illness.

Bipolar mania is a particularly hard one to explain. It would be easy to say that, at its core, mania is simply being “too happy.” But that isn’t accurate, just as it’s not accurate to say that depression, at its core, is simply being “too sad.” Either way, simple explanations really don’t offer much in the way of understanding. Hence, analogies and longer explanations were born.

What Do Christmas and Bipolar Mania Have in Common?

The Christmas season and bipolar mania have quite a lot in common. Think about all of the extravagant traditions we love. The base premise, from a purely non-religious viewpoint, is that a jolly fat man delivers presents to children all over the world in a single night.

But, let’s not be stupid about this, he can’t do it alone. He has an army of helpers – elves – who work around the clock at amazing speed to assemble all the gifts. He obviously can’t walk to every child’s home, needing much faster transportation, so he enlisted the aid of reindeer. Specifically, magical flying reindeer who pull a sled big enough to hold all the gifts.

It goes on from there because Santa is no fool. He expects all of to carry our weight. First, all the children have to be nice. And Mr. Claus knows if you’ve been bad or good. (During the rest of the year, I suspect he works for the NSA.) In addition to being good, the children must decorate a dead (or fake) pine tree, hang stockings by the chimney with care, and it doesn’t hurt to put a couple hundred lights on the outside of your house. Finally, on Christmas Eve, you must remember to put out cookies and milk for Santa – and, for bonus points, the reindeer like carrot sticks.

Everything from the sparkling lights to the magnificent story of Santa to the majestically tacky decorations make up the splendor which is Christmas. And I love Christmas with all my heart.

It’s utterly ridiculous and its grandiosity knows no bounds. Each story is more glorious than the last and we celebrate the awe-inspiring nature of the entire season. We buy into the stories and we act them out. Those who love it most triple their utility bills with decorations only an electrical engineer and an artist could pull off. We sing, we laugh, and we “believe” in the magic that is Santa Claus.

Most of all, we love it. We love all it because it’s fun and amazing and an escape from the pressures of the real world. We play along with our friends and family because we know, deep down, that this is all make believe. Santa, his reindeer, and his magical elves all live in our collective imaginations.

And we all love it, together. Bipolar mania is like the entire Christmas season, in all its grandiosity and amazement. It’s a fun, joyous, and magical celebration for everyone. Much in the same way mania is seen by bystanders as exciting, the people following along and celebrating are excited to be part of it. Everyone is having fun – almost exactly like the person who is actually manic.

But, unlike all the people around them, manic people don’t know it isn’t real. They aren’t pretending to believe in Santa Claus and there is no recognition that this is all in fun. By the time they realize it’s all just amusement and make-believe, it’s already too late.

And that is why bipolar mania feels amazing while causing incredible amounts of damage. You can wait all you want for Santa to come down the chimney, but he won’t. Because feelings don’t make things real.

No matter how much we believe they will.

Gabe is a writer and speaker living with bipolar and anxiety disorders. Interact with him on Facebook, Twitter, or his website. He is currently working on a memoir about living with bipolar in the “real world” and presales are going on now. Join in by clicking here.