An Unquiet Mind: Chapter 12 Summary & Analysis

Jamison writes that, although she’s never had an easy time telling someone about her manic-depressive illness for the first time, there are one or two experiences that stand out to her as having been particularly difficult and painful. Most of her reluctance to share details of her illness has been based in a desire to keep her personal and professional lives separate, and there have been several instances in which a friend or colleague has hurt her and added to that sense of reluctance. 

Jamison recalls telling a former colleague—and friend, or at least she thought—named Mouseheart about her illness over lunch. The two had grown close over several months of working together, and, at a certain point, Kay felt odd about not having shared the fact that she suffered from manic-depressive illness with him. At a restaurant in Malibu one afternoon, Kay finally confided in Mouseheart—the man began crying and told Kay he was “deeply disappointed” in her for having attempted the “selfish” act of suicide. Mouseheart began asking invasive and condescending questions about Kay’s ability to work in her chosen profession; Kay responded with sarcastic answers which succeeded in shutting Mouseheart up. Though he later apologized and even sent roses to Kay’s apartment, nothing he said or did could heal the hurt he inspired when he judged her so cruelly.

In spite of the few unfortunate experiences she’s had when revealing her mental illness to others, much of Jamison’s reluctance to discuss her illness stems from a fear of affecting people’s perception of her ability to be a professional. She has long been afraid of being labeled “unstable” or having a medical license denied or revoked.

Lately, however, Jamison has begun to fear that her students might, in sensing her own reluctance to bridge the personal and the professional, develop their own fears of being sidelined due to factors beyond their control. For this reason, she has begun to discuss her personal struggles with mental illness more openly. She still worries on occasion that her openness about manic-depressive illness will impact how her colleagues see her or read her work—but at the same time, she is mature enough to admit that her experiences have indeed colored her entire body of work, her clinical practice, and her professional choices.

Nevertheless, Jamison has, at many points in her career, found herself questioning whether someone with mental illness should be allowed to treat patients. In 1986, when she began an academic appointment at Johns Hopkins, she filled out an application for clinical privileges at the hospital with a sense of dread and uncertainty. When a question on the form asked if she suffered from a disability or illness, Jamison knew she needed to meet with the chairman of the Department of Psychiatry. Over lunch, she told him about her struggles with manic-depressive illness, and explained that at UCLA her colleagues had known of her mental illness and had promised to intervene if they ever felt she should take a break—or resign—from practicing medicine. 

Jamison writes that practicing medicine is indeed a privilege, and that questions about hospital privileges are “neither unfair nor irrelevant.” At the same time, she warns that the shame and stigma which accompanies divulging one’s illness or disability status in the workplace often leads to doctors failing to do so for fear of being stigmatized or sidelined—which, of course, only puts their patients at risk, too. Jamison believes patients should never have to pay for their doctors’ problems—but that the systems within which doctors work should be more open and accommodating so as not to dissuade doctors from seeking treatment when they need it or practicing transparency with their colleagues.

Jamison writes that the chairman at Hopkins, as an answer to her confession, told her that he already knew she had manic-depressive illness—and that if he were to “get rid of all the manic-depressives on the […] faculty,” the hospital would be a much more boring and uninspired place.