Stigmatizing Mental Illness Ought to be a Crime

by Anne Bremner

Catherine Zeta Jones was outed by the National Enquirer for having sought treatment for bipolar disorder. Her response was swift, sure, and inspiring: “There is no need to suffer silently and there is no shame in seeking help.” She acknowledged that she had bipolar disorder stating, “This is a disorder that affects millions of people and I am one of them. ... If my revelation of having bipolar II has encouraged one person to seek help, then it is worth it.”


The stigmatization of the disease was responsible for the salacious interest and inquiry. The gracious and courageous response will serve to help remove the stigma for so many, including me--and maybe Charlie Sheen.

I found out I had bipolar disorder, a progressive disease that is both my greatest strength and my greatest weakness, when I was in my 20s. I had extra energy, didn’t need much sleep, and I thought I could charm and disarm judges, opposing counsel and juries. I could think on my feet at lightning speed. I had one speed: Go. I was omnipotent, winning, and death was not an option. I became anorexic, spent too much money, thought way too fast, made reckless decisions and had deep depressions. My life was a manic roller coaster. Sometimes it was great fun and was exhilarating. Often it was anything but.


Bipolar disorder, also known as manic depression, is known as the genius disease (many of us like to think). Mark Twain had it, as did Ludwig Von Beethoven, Winston Churchill, Ernest Hemingway, Teddy Roosevelt and Vincent Van Gogh. So does Ted Turner, Jane Pauley, Catherine Zeta-Jones, and, I suspect, Charlie Sheen.

It is a disease that is characterized by shifts in mood, thinking and behavior--mania on one pole and depression on the other. One in 45 people have it, which is more than six million people. And, 20 percent of the people who have it commit suicide. But once it is diagnosed, patients can go on to live normal, fulfilling lives if they manage their medication as prescribed. 

I was fortunate to get the help needed and have had a wonderful career and life, other than one notable exception: Like Catherine Zeta-Jones, I too was outed by the press. 

I had a life-changing manic episode after being involved in a car accident last year that caused $34,000 worth of damage to my vehicle. My assistant and best friend had just died from cancer. All the witnesses said I was one-hundred percent okay before my accident and one hundred-percent not okay after. Although I wasn't charged initially, the Seattle media went after my records and printed and broadcasted one story after another. I tried to get the media blocked from getting my records because of privacy issues relating to my bipolar disorder. No one knew except me.

I didn't want my records released because of the stigma of having the disease and because of crazy things I said and did while under the influence of a full-blown manic episode. The person in the police report was a person I didn't know. The local media hired big-gun lawyers and fought me every step of the way in my case. They were like piranhas. I felt enormous shame that I had failed to properly manage my medications, inviting my mania to revisit me. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. In the aftermath, nearly one year later, it has brutalized me.

I released my records voluntarily during the court battle and disclosed I was bipolar. I was, for all intent and purpose, outed. The stigma and lack of understanding of the disease is why I fought for my privacy and resisted disclosure of my records. I ultimately had to reveal what I never, ever wanted to do. And with that came a barrage of anonymous, undocumented comments and blogs on the Internet. They have had a field day.

I have much in common with Charlie Sheen. He is being brutalized too. I wish the media could recognize mental illness and addiction issues for what they are and not showcase Charlie as the Wild Man From Borneo. He is sick. I disagree with the portrayal of Charlie in Newsweek's March 21 article titled "Charlie Sheen Is Winning." He isn't winning. He isn't a role model or someone to emulate, despite the ever-shifting mores of our instant pop culture. He is, simply, a manic depressive like me and like Catherine. He has exhibited the best and the worst of the disease. It can be fun. It can make you crazy. And it can kill you. Anyone with bipolar disorder knows that I am right.

What about Charlie? He needs help. There are a lot of us manic depressives out there who would be happy to help him. As my psychiatrist brother said when I asked him if I would lose clients if I went public with my disease, "yes, but your new ones will be far more interesting." Until Charlie Sheen gets the help he needs, nobody is winning.

We are here. And we are pretty interesting. Yet in some ways, his touring, tweeting and interviewing has eased the stigma as well, although in a far different way than Catherine Zeta-Jones’ statements and actions could. He has shown the fun, zany, contagious part of the disease. He has shown it's appealing fun madness. And we can't get enough of it.

Three stories. Three Manics. The stigma remains but may well change in our lifetimes. Catherine Zeta-Jones' grace and humility, Charlie's controversial Torpedo of Truth/Death is not an Option tour, and the local girl-gone-bad who only sees good ahead. We all work through this crazy disease in our own ways. We are all human. We are all one of you. 


For my part, I am going to do everything in my power to help reduce the stigma. I am not from Hollywood; I am just from little old Olympia, Washington. But in this arena, I hope I can help to make a difference too. Stigmatizing mental illness ought to be a crime.

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