Mental illness is one of those subjects that always seems ripe for interrogation, especially when it comes to investigating our collective societal response to it. Myna Wallin’s new poetry collection, The Suicide Tourist (Ekstasis Editions, 2024), explores mental illness with verve, grace, and wisdom. It’s a collection that dives into the darkness and creates light; not by virtue of exposing any levity in living with mental illness, but by examining mental illness and neurodivergence frankly and with compassion, thereby alleviating, just a little, the burden of loneliness so many of us who live with it experience.

We’re honoured to have Myna on our Q & A series to talk about her beautiful and moving collection.

Welcome, Myna!

Bring home *The Suicide Tourist* by Myna Wallin.

Q. What does it feel like to “come out” as bipolar after so many years of keeping it quiet?

A. It’s a strange feeling to finally “come out.” As a Boomer, we didn’t talk about things like mental illness; the stigma was worse then and I felt ashamed about having bipolar disorder. My family and a handful of close friends knew, but that was all. Now there’s a flood of confessional books, documentaries, and plenty of famous actors, writers, and musicians who have shared their stories. Gen Z, for example, speak openly about mental illness.

There’s a common misconception around those with bipolar disorder: It’s the romanticizing of mental illness in films and books that is so misleading, as though it’s a fascinating and rarefied life we lead. It’s nothing like that at all. It’s “take your meds, get your sleep, stay balanced, and don’t succumb to the allure of mania.” Sounds easy but when the chemicals in your brain misfire, chaos and disorientation take over.

The term “bipolar disorder” was coined in the third edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), published in 1980. It was the first time it was identified that way. The term “manic-depressive” became highly stigmatized before that; “manic” was too close to “maniac.” Changing the label was meant to change attitudes. But I would argue that before very long the term “bipolar” became stigmatized as well.

I don’t know what I thought would happen if I admitted I was bipolar to the world-at-large. But the fear was there, nagging at me. I remember once being at a small party and someone said, “Oh, he’s bipolar, what can you expect,” and I don’t recall who they were talking about, but the connotation was entirely negative. I cleared my throat, said, “I’m bipolar,” and I watched them do a furious backpedal.

I think, finally, there’s a relief in exposing my authentic self, even if it involves some unsavory past experiences. It comes at a point in my life where I have done extensive psychotherapy. I’ve also come to terms with the fact that mine is a disorder that can’t be conquered, only managed. So, the journey continues. And perhaps the poems I’ve written may help someone else—that’s the hope.

More about Myna Wallin:

Myna Wallin got her MA in English from the University of Toronto and is the author of A Thousand Profane Pieces and Confessions of a Reluctant Cougar (Tightrope Books, 2006 and 2010 respectively), as well as Anatomy of An Injury (Inanna Publications, 2018). She has a beautiful senior cat named Star, and at last count twenty-seven thriving houseplants.

More about The Suicide Tourist:

The Suicide Tourist (Ekstasis Editions, 2024) confronts themes of depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder with unflinching boldness and compassion. In this mental health confessional, poems about depression, mania, suicidal ideation, and the challenge of living with these disabilities are tackled with naked honesty and deep humour. In The Suicide Tourist, Wallin supersedes the stigma surrounding mental illness and excavates the themes of anxiety, fear, instability, mortality, and ultimately, liberation.