Carrie Fisher works triple duty for me as a metaphor-carrier. She’s bipolar, obese and has that old Star Wars twinkle. And if the Buddhist reference flies over some people’s heads, that’s okay, because the literal statement works for me, too.
When Carrie’s book Wishful Drinking came out, I rushed to get it. Princess Leia was bipolar and telling the world! I liked her other books and her humor, so I expected this book to be a winner. But, alas, no. At least not for me.
The pain behind her humor is clear and heart-wrenching. I identified with her struggles and craziness. But when she said electro-convulsive therapy saved her life, I threw the book away. ECT destroyed my brain and my life. Reading about someone who swears by it, who gets zapped on a regular basis to control her symptoms, made me physically ill.
I find it interesting that while on tour with her one-woman show based on Wishful Drinking, Carrie’s weight ballooned. It must have been difficult to dip into the horrors of her disease night after night, and I know as well as anyone that going unconscious with food is one way to deal with horror. So, now she’s the new spokesperson for Jenny Craig. And we all know how well that worked for Kirstie Alley.
Carrie, Carrie, Carrie. We are sisters in so many ways. I applaud your strength and your ability to pick yourself up and keep searching for the Answer. I love that you never give up, even in the worst of times. I love that you’ve kicked alcohol and drugs, temptations that most folks with bipolar disorder have to deal with. Keep workin’ it, girlfriend. If you ever need to come rub my belly, I’m here for you.