How Is Sally Now?

Many people ask me, after reading Hurry Down Sunshine, how Sally is doing now. The book tells the story of Sally's first manic attack at the age of fifteen, during the summer of 1996 in New York City. My aim was to recreate the experience of Sally's astonishing leap into psychosis from both inside and out, and to show its effect on those of us who are closest to her. Writing Hurry Down Sunshine, I sometimes felt as if I was describing a great storm: an unexpected wind had come upon us, tearing to bits the little boat upon which our family floated. When the wind finally lifted, we were each holding on to a different plank of the vessel, looking at each other from the across the water, which was suddenly calm again, surprised to have eyes.

The book ends when the summer ends, with Sally having recovered enough to return to school -- no small triumph. In a short postscript, I suggest that Sally's struggles did not end there. Manic-depression is a chronic condition. Although Sally has experienced rich and productive periods of remission and calm, the possibility of a new attack always looms. She is twenty-seven now, and out of necessity she and I both have become experts of her disease, ever vigilant of sudden mood swings and other ominous signs. Together -- along with her doctor, her mother, her friends -- we do our best to stave off a fresh breakdown.

This has proved to be an essential component of Sally's care. One of the most diabolical aspects of mania is its seductiveness in its earliest stages. It beckons you with feelings of omnipotence, fluidity, charisma -- who among us would be strong enough to turn away from such an electrified state? By the time florid psychosis has set in, it's usually too late. Sally has learned to dread her attacks and the months of distress and damage that follow them. The poet Robert Lowell, who also suffered from manic-depression, used to say that he could sense a seizure coming on by the mercurial, liquid feeling in his spine. He grew to fear it so much that he once overdosed on lithium to try to prevent it!

2008 has been a steady and rewarding year for Sally, after a difficult 2007 that included the breakup of her marriage and a delicate medication change. In January, she moved to Spring Lake Ranch, a therapeutic work community in the Green Mountains of Vermont. The Ranch is forty percent self-sufficient. They grow their own food, raise animals, and make one of the most delicious brands of maple syrup in Vermont. A tremendous espirit de corps exists between the residents and the staff. As I write this, Sally is preparing to move into her own apartment in a nearby city. She is a vibrant young woman, a caring friend, and a natural writer with an unusual gift for language.

I'd like to add a word or two about the immeasurable influence Sally has had on her family. Her stepmother Pat, inspired by her experience with Sally, has changed her career, taking a degree in infant development. She now works on early intervention with children who are at risk of developing long-lasting problems. Sally's older brother Aaron works for UNICEF, a division of the United Nations, as a Child Protection officer, a path that was also influenced by Sally. As for me, Sally has changed my fundamental view of the world. She has taught me about the fragility of even our closest relationships, and the endurance of our deepest bonds of love.

©2008 Michael Greenberg