My intention was to unpack the triggers and symptoms of bipolar disorder as depicted in the documentary. It wasn’t my intention to come to new conclusions and other theories about the saga. Well, I got carried away and you now have James’ theories and and unjustified conclusions about Elisa’s Lam’s mental state of mind, peppered with some of my own.
The boiled down version of this series is: amateur sleuths on the internet obsess over solving the disappearance of a Canadian girl in LA with wild conspiracies and scenarios littered with anecdotes from social media.
Oh and she has bipolar. An after thought. If we can indeed call it a thought at all. The official record reflects the cause of death as ‘accidental due to drowning’ with ‘bipolar disorder a significant factor’ or something, rather than what it should be – drowning, due to bipolar mania. ICD-10: 33.2.
I’m not convinced I am able to convey the gravity of my experiences with mania sufficiently here, but I’ll give it a stab.
Triggers
Triggers are those things that set you off. These are those things that can often be found to be the initial sign of impending mania. In muggle language it’s like throwing a broken stapler at the wall and then the building collapses.
And these triggers are unique to the individual. Sometimes they aren’t discernible at all. Common triggers are disturbed sleep patterns, medication complications, increased drug or alcohol use. In my opinion these are all tame and aren’t all that helpful to us. They’re vague and unspecific to bipolar.
The major contributor to inducing a manic episode is, in my opinion, severe stress caused by a single, discernible event. Or multiple if you’re really in the shit.
The stress can be caused by a plethora of things; in my particular case they are: frustrations at work, including those of my own doing; family conflict and feuds, complicated, emotionally fueled break-ups, and losing the ability to reason with others. That seems like quite a list, I don’t think it’s even complete. The take-home here is ‘stress’.
Elisa Lam’s triggers could have been such a stress. Considering that she was totally out of her comfort zone, from the relatively peaceful Canada, to downtown Los Angeles.
The extent of this disturbance in environment must surely have been unbelievably stressful. Her environment essentially took a 180. Having booked her accommodation she found herself in an area known as Skid Row. The strip was a home for the homeless, drug dealers and users, forced or necessary prostitution, recently released criminals; shall we call these people ‘transients’. It’s pretty big at 6km with over 10 000 people occupying the space.
Now this was outside the hotel. So already upon arrival she was foisted into this community of transients while inside the hotel it was as horrific an environment as it was outside, worse even. With over 700 rooms, though it it seemed like the majority of these rooms were required to provide low income housing, and only a few floors for the hotel proper. So, these transients would end up living in the hotel, sometimes for years.
It was reported that the rooms were a haven for drug dealers. At least two serial killers called the hotel home; and it is said that there were countless deaths, murders or suicides. I cannot over-narrate the horror of this establishment.
The environmental disturbance again must have been totally over whelming. But, it gets worse, at least for a person like Elisa. She finds herself shacked up in a communal area with two other females, sharing both common facilities and bunks.
In an effort to normalize her environment she visits a bookstore to find something, I would imagine, would bring her back to at least one comfortable place: her love of literature. Considering that the situation outside was extensive I believe Elisa felt imprisoned in that hotel. The stark walls matted with filth were closing in on her.
This huge change of environment became that stress trigger for her. The magnitude of the stress I am unable to describe how mentally pervasive and brutal the attack of this stress can be on one’s perception of reality. Of Reasonableness. Of yourself. Of life.
Having described what may have been Elisa’s stress, I am triggered myself. I can feel in my gut with an impending pain, the apprehension of catastrophe, of dread. I am consciously triggered writing what I have. I am stressed. So if this post goes awry, you know why.
Signals of Mania
Here again I am only postulating what may have been Elisa’s experience. However, I do so only because these signs are common, in bipolar in general in general and many to me, specifically.
Impulsivity, poor (often financial) decision making.
On Elisa’s Tumbr she makes exactly three posts about planning her trip to LA. This was three posts in a sea of daily updates. The impulsivity of the trip is apparent, at least to me.
I can see a near match this impulsivity with one of my own manias. It was about 11 o’clock in the evening, I had had a few toots. In exactly 28 minutes I booked a trip to Israel for a friend and I for both flights and accommodation (I checked my internet history in the days subsequent). If this is does not satisfy the definition of impulsive well then blow me over.
Here we have a classic sign, symptom call it what you will; of mania. Impulsive behavior. What is unbelievable to me is that her parents and sister did not recognize the behavior and sway her resolve, but perhaps they did and Elisa was totally unwavering. This is an unfair conclusion, but it might be an option. Which brings me to the next sign…
Self-importance, Unjustified Elation, Erratic behavior.
In the documentary this is only mentioned briefly. Essentially Elisa appeared to be a bad roommate. Her soon to be foe complained to Hotel management that Elisa was ‘weird’. They say Elisa kept demanding that the two others set the room up in a particular way, and do particular things. She would leave notes for them detailing minutiae of her thoughts and decisions about how they should behave.
This resolute and unwavering resolve is, for me, another classic sign to watch out for. Grand ideas present themselves, they are planned to excess. Then everyone else must be as enthusiastic about this idea, it has to be executed exactly as planned too.
Another iteration of this is considerably more destructive. Elation is replaced with a deep dense of urgency, of hero-like, intervention. The feeling is intoxicating. Here the plans are necessity, are required, are mandatory, are to avoid catastrophe or doom.
A recent example for me was the onset on COVID-19, and I speak broadly about the experience as many players were ‘at risk’. The media was exploding with doom. This impending doom was about to land on South African shores and only I could possibly be the organizer / chief / dictator of the plan of action to avoid this doom in the workplace. The intensity of the need to save, the absolute meltdown that happens when the plan goes awry or wasn’t considered ‘important’ was Chernobyl proportions.
Projection. Usually of threat of harm or risk.
Elisa attended a show, again there are few details here. The few lines we have are something to the effect that other patrons complained of her intimidating remarks and together with erratic behavior a decision was made to kick her out.
Yeah, I won’t be sharing my experiences of this here. Suffice to say that had my threats been carried out I would be in a less than ideal life quagmire. I think this is best left to your imagination. Both for me and Elisa consider the fact that she (and possibly I) were in a public, enclosed space.
Being delusional, having hallucinations and disturbed or illogical thinking.
This was the essence of the documentary. It was the glue that held it all together. The last time Elisa is seen is her getting into an elevator, then leaving again and departing down the corridor. Here’s the clip:
Watching it myself now I again am triggered. I can feel …. what ever she is feeling or experiencing. I won’t go into the conspiracies about the video, and how it’s been construed in the media and amateur sleuths on the internet. It’s not relevant here.
Suffice to say Elisa was having a proper, full on psychosis. I think this is clearly demonstrated by the video. Now, I shall share my own, similar story. But before I do, I need to state a couple of things:
- I had only recently started a new combination of medication and was there fore either in the process of adjusting or he medication was a total disaster (it was).
- It takes time to find the right combination of medication to treat bipolar. Sometimes this can take months (as in my case) or even years.
- Bipolar is entirely treatable and after this incident I have been quite fine since, in the majority. I mean, we all fuck up here and there. My fick up I mean stop taking your medication.
- The trigger for the event were in this case multiple. Change in environment, family feud, personal health issues. So this was a mega episode and one I am quite sure won’t be visiting again…. because I’m being TREATED.
- Get treatment if you need it. If you’re doing what I did check into a mental health facility. I should have.
- Again, take home here is this kind of thing is entirely treatable and should not in any way hinder your ability to perform in the rest of your life.
The Evening of Footsteps on the Roof
It was a winter evening on a fairly large plot (fruit and cut-flower farm) in Stellenbosch. I’d been living there for six or so months without incident. Then without rhyme or reason there were intruders on the plot.
Initially I was certain that these intruders were planning their movements by watching me through a big bay window. This window had flimsy curtains, but nevertheless I closed them and was for a while satisfied that I had stopped their plans and that they would have to go back to the drawing board. Or away for good.
When I say ‘a while’ I actually mean about half an hour. So, thirty minutes later I’m lying on my bed and true as nuts these buggers are using a bicycle spoke to push down the curtain claws on the rail. ‘They’ (I’m not going to parenthesize this again) would do this, and I would smack the curtain. They would go away. Then come back, slap and so it went on.
Sometime later, perhaps twenty minutes actually, I hear sounds on the roof. This was a corrugated iron roof so the sounds were marked. These guys were now on the roof attempting to bypass the cameras and alarm beams and all the rest of the security by climbing on the roof.
They would walk, then rustle a tree giving them ambient sound to move undetected. I am hearing this all going on from my room. There were four intruders, I decided. Definitely. I could hear them. Four. I counted the steps and their rhythms.
Meanwhile the curtain is being bicycle-spoke opened. I can see this too. It’s quite clear. The little fold near the rail moves down. Then up again. But I can’t be in two places at once so I decide to ditch the curtain guy and focus on the main event.
I am now standing on the doorjamb that leads into a long passage with three rooms to the right. A huge courtyard is on the right. Where these people would probably be coming in. It was a very long passage. Very weird design. I digress.
So I’m on this doorjamb looking out with just my head my head, left and then right. I see nothing. Only the passage light is on and I can’t see into the lounge area. Fuck.
I stood on that doorjamb for hours (maybe 5 minutes actually, time was not longer meaningful). During all these hours I’m trying to focus my hearing to see if I can hear them, either outside or in. Doesn’t matter. Really hear them. Like radar hearing. I’m hearing so hard my ears began to ring.
Suddenly I hear the unmistakable sound of a sliding door opening. They were now in the house. I had now both heard them and seen, partially, some of the action with the bicycle-spoke window.
Now I’ve properly kaked myself.
Into my room I go, curtain guy is now a rookie and means no harm. I then haul my 3.5m long solid wood desk in front of the door. Now I’m in my room, there’s no chance they can get in.
OK, all is fine. Curiosity enters stage left. What exactly are they carrying out the house? I have heard no overturning of furniture so what are they doing? Are they still here? What is happening? Can I go pee?
After a while (5 minutes), because I can hear nothing or see nothing, I have convinced myself that it is me they are after and my iMac and my other bits and bobs. At this stage I am properly petrified. My heart is going like the clappers and, again, I frustratingly cannot be in all places at once.
Now, I start to think, in my mind, what I thought was rationally. It is possible to go unseen and unheard. Despite my best efforts my ears were no good. And I could see the curtain bicycle-spoke, but not really the main action due to the lighting (and the door). OK. Now these two senses are out the window and useless to me.
I am so convinced that my senses are the only things that will take me to safety. I had no other defenses. Except for an axe handle, which was useless under my control.
So, I think, there is one sense you cannot, effectively, sleuth. Smell. These people outside would smell. All that roof stuff, loading the grand piano onto the back of the truck. They would pong.
So onto my desk I climb. Nose right against the seam of the door opening. And I take a big sniff. Long and with purpose. I Smell them. That’s it! People are outside my door. I can smell the unmistakable smell of tree-climbing. My nose never lets me down!
But now we wait. And we wait. Who is going to take the first move? Well we wait it out so long dawn comes and I resolve that it is now safe to move the desk and open the door.
Of course I then check all the cameras. They cover every inch of the exterior. I watched that video from 5:30PM to 5:00AM. Not a soul in sight. Nada. Zip.
If you need to see the similarities of this an Elisa’s experience, watch the video again.
The reason I’m sharing this story is two fold:
- Imagine being so convinced that you determine that you can specifically tune this or that sense to achieve some activity. Ears are radar. Eyes are sniper scopes, noses are sniffer dogs. This is the extent to which the mind can control, well, everything. The mind creates fear. And it also creates a sense of security. This is why I am actually terrified of my own mind. To think that it can imagine, with such synchronicity, such an elaborate tale. It can in fact control your senses to create fear, while also telling you your senses can save you. So be terrified. I am.
- During this entire episode I would record voice notes at certain key moments. I would describe exactly what I was feeling of thinking at that moment with the express purpose of playing it back to my psychiatrist.
- So, after hearing these voice notes it was quite clear my medication at the time was not doing the trick. however, the voice notes were able to assist my psychiatrist to prescribe a combination that I am currently on, and all seems to be well.
So, as you’ve read, this story emulates very similar delusional, hallucinations and really weird thinking. Elisa was having a full-blown manic episode. Like I was.
Again I feel like I need to say this again. No, people with bipolar are not crazy. Or they are, but they don’t have to be. Given the right treatment these kinds of episodes are totally avoidable and, on treatment, a bipolar diagnosis should not otherwise impair your ability to work or function in society.
I shall stop at this juncture since this post specifically dealt with experiences of mania, and (I’m sorry for doing it), making wild causation and speculation about Elisa Lam. I will deal with depression in a different post.
