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You wont know the shape of your own unraveling until it happens.
So speaks the inked avatar of Rachel Lindsay a few pages into her debut graphic memoir,Rx.
A tagged medical bracelet adorns her wrist.
She is slipshod and her hair wisps off uncontrollably.
Its a deceptively crude drawing, comprised mostly of straight lines and blank textures.
Maybe I shouldnt use the second-person in that statement.
Your mileage may vary, but in that single-panel page, Lindsay was grippingmeon a very individual level.
I, too, have never known the shapes of my own unravelings until they happen.
Like Lindsay, I live with bipolar disorder.
Like her, I have seen professionals and taken medications to treat that disorder for much of my life.
And like her, I have learned that those practices are not cures.
For anyone with an affection for comics and an interest in ailments of the mind,Rxis required reading.
We express tender affection for the depressive person, bludgeoned by misery and unable to move.
These are welcome developments.
But, by and large, we have yet to confront the assholes.
Thats where we get to the shapes of unravelings.
As such, it often leads you to hurt those around you with your selfish and impulsive acts.
How should we navigate responsibility and forgiveness?
Rxdoesnt offer answers to those questions, but it deserves praise for the way it subtly asks them.
But the specific contours of Lindsays memoir surprise us with their idiosyncrasy.
She wants to move to the frontier, live as an artist and musician, figure herself out.
That means paying for medication and therapy via health insurance, and thus full-time employment.
Just her luck, a manic episode appears in which her mind puddle-jumped planets.
We see demi-circles appear under her eyes and inwardly slanted eyebrows above them.
It was all familiar, she says.
I recognized the red flags.
But in the context of the moment it all felt like a completely reasonable reaction to my life.
Again, elegance should not be mistaken for simplicity here.
It strips you of remorse and responsibility.
Its a prick, and it can turn you into one.
Again, we get back to the shapes of unravelings.
Because who else will?
She is merely asking for a shred of empathy from the people wronged by people like us.
Shes also trying to prove that comics can be a uniquely well-primed medium for narratives of mental illness.
I spoke with Lindsay about the book and, time and again, she emphasized that notion.
Having the ability to show, versus tell, is really powerful, she said.
But also, just being able to depict yourself as a cartoon character.
That bluntness and seeming crudity also ensures that the reader isnt distracted by flashy shows of detail and rendering.
But perhaps most important is theimmediacyof the comics medium.
When youre in the hole, you may not have the energy to process big blocks of words.
A comic, though, can be far more digestible.
Its Frank Miller and David Mazzucchellis Marvel Comics epic,Daredevil: Born Again.
I couldnt muster the strength to read a conventional book, butBorn Againseared itself into my brain.
I journaled about it and pondered the ways in which my struggle resembled that of the titular hero.
In some ways, that comic saved my life.
MaybeRxcan do that for someone else.
For some people, unraveling is inevitable.
Its the story you tell when you spool back up that matters.
