David Leite’s memoir, “Notes on a Banana: A Memoir of Food, Love, and Manic Depression,” is far more than a collection of personal anecdotes. It’s a masterclass in resilience, self-advocacy, and the complex journey of living with undiagnosed bipolar disorder for over three decades. The title itself speaks to the tender care his mother showed by writing encouraging messages on bananas she packed in his school lunches.
Leite chose the term “manic depression” over “bipolar” deliberately. As he explains, “When you say bipolar, people don’t quite know what it is. Manic depression is so descriptive. It’s mania and it’s depression.” This choice reflects his commitment to clarity and education.
Early Signs: The Childhood Anxiety Episodes
Leite’s first encounter with severe anxiety came at age 11, triggered by a scene in the 1971 3D movie “House of Wax.” What began as a panic attack in a movie theater evolved into months of debilitating anxiety and depression.
His description of that first episode is viscerally powerful: “It felt as if there was a heat bomb exploding in my chest and it went down my legs and out to my arms and my throat constricted and I felt like there were ants crawling around in all of my joints.”
This wasn’t simply nervousness. It was a complete physical and psychological breakdown that lasted for months. Leite couldn’t eat or sleep and his grades plummeted. He describes lying in bed from 4:30 AM until 7:30 AM, pretending to sleep while experiencing intense anxiety, determined not to worry his parents.
The most heartbreaking moment came when his father, after trying everything he could think of to help, finally told his son: “Everyone has to cope with something and you have to cope with this.” As Leite recalls, “I felt like I was cut loose and falling through a bottomless pit.”
This moment illustrates a crucial reality: in 1971, even well-meaning parents and doctors simply didn’t have the knowledge or tools to properly address childhood anxiety and depression.
The College Years: Manic Highs and Devastating Lows
At Carnegie Mellon University, Leite experienced his first major manic episode, though he wouldn’t understand what was happening until decades later. The rigorous schedule—classes from 8 AM to 5:30 PM, followed by three hours of crew work, then homework until 1 or 2 AM—created the perfect storm for someone with undiagnosed bipolar disorder.
Sleep deprivation is particularly dangerous for people with bipolar disorder, and Leite was losing sleep “every day a little bit at a time, every night.” The resulting mania was initially intoxicating. He describes feeling plugged directly into God, experiencing extraordinary creativity, and believing no one could think the way he was thinking.
One particularly vivid episode involved writing so fast he couldn’t keep up with himself.
But what goes up must come down. The crash that followed was devastating, leading to his departure from Carnegie Mellon. The depression that followed was characterized by complete disconnection: “I would hear myself talk. It’s almost as if I were narrating my own life and the camera was out here and I was the voiceover for my own life. I couldn’t grab on to things… I wasn’t in my body. I was always here.”
The Search for Identity: Coming to Terms with Sexuality and Mental Health
Leite’s journey was even more complicated because of his simultaneous struggles with accepting his sexuality. At Carnegie Mellon, he fell in love with a woman named Bridget, despite being certain he was gay. This created additional confusion and internal conflict during an already turbulent period.
The intersection of mental health struggles and sexual identity created layers of shame and confusion. When a teacher told him to “leave that girl alone and come out of the closet,” Leite felt exposed and lost. The lack of positive gay role models in the 1970s made his journey even more challenging.
Perhaps most damaging was his involvement with Aesthetic Realism, a group that claimed to help gay men become straight. This experience lasted several years and represents a crucial lesson about the dangers of seeking quick fixes for complex identity issues. Leite’s escape from this group came when he finally declared: “I would much rather be a raging flaming queer than be part of this organization. I’m proud of who I am.”
The Healing Power of Food: How Cooking Became Therapy
After dropping out of Carnegie Mellon, Leite found unexpected salvation in cooking. Working as a private cook for a Carnegie Mellon professor’s family, he discovered what he now recognizes as “forced mindfulness.” The simple acts of chopping, slicing, and sautéing became meditative practices that helped stitch his fractured sense of self back together.
Leite describes watching butter “slump to the side as it heats and melts” as a restorative experience. More importantly, cooking gave him a sense of purpose and accomplishment.
This insight reveals an important principle: during mental health crises, engaging in activities that require present-moment attention and produce tangible results can be profoundly healing. Cooking provided Leite with structure, accomplishment, and a respite from the constant internal chaos of his undiagnosed condition.
Self-Advocacy: Fighting for the Right Diagnosis
One of the most remarkable aspects of Leite’s story is his persistent self-advocacy. From age 11, when he threatened suicide unless his parents took him to see a psychiatrist, to age 35, when he finally received the correct diagnosis, Leite never stopped fighting for proper care.
The diagnostic journey was frustrating and prolonged. Despite experiencing clear patterns of mania and depression, doctor after doctor missed the bipolar diagnosis. Part of the problem was that Leite was highly functional during his hypomanic episodes. He was creative, articulate, and successful.
As one therapist later admitted: “You’re too articulate. You’re too on top of things. You’re too successful for me to have seen it.”
The breakthrough came when Leite read Kay Redfield Jamison’s “An Unquiet Mind” and recognized himself in her description of bipolar disorder. He then sought out two separate psychiatrists for diagnosis, both of whom confirmed bipolar II disorder.
Armed with this information, he returned to his therapist, who apologized for missing the diagnosis. This experience highlights a crucial lesson: that no one knew David better than him. Even well-trained professionals can miss important diagnoses, and patients must persist in seeking answers when something doesn’t feel right.
Relationships and Mental Health: The Impact on Loved ones
Leite’s relationship with his now-husband, Alan, provides profound insights into how mental illness affects partnerships. During one of his worst depressive episodes, Leite made the difficult decision to leave Alan temporarily, explaining: “I tried to explain it was more painful to stay together than to split. What he didn’t understand is that activities that usually bring joy to anyone—a good meal, movie, meaningful sex—only reminded me of how sick I was because I derived no pleasure from it.”
This decision, while painful, demonstrated remarkable self-awareness. Leite recognized that his constant need for reassurance was “draining” and “acid and caustic for both people.” By temporarily separating, he was able to confirm that the relationship wasn’t causing his depression, which was crucial information for both of them.
Today, Leite and Alan have developed healthy coping strategies, including a code system where Leite can say “I’m not having a good day. I don’t think you should come anywhere near me today,” giving Alan permission to take care of himself during difficult periods.
A Revolutionary Perspective: Learning to Listen to Your Illness
Perhaps the most transformative insight from Leite’s journey is his revolutionary approach to mental illness. Rather than viewing his bipolar disorder as an enemy to fight, he learned to listen to what it was telling him about his needs.
This perspective shift is profound. Instead of fighting against his condition, Leite learned to work with it.
“If you don’t respect your illness, you will never get well. You must respect your illness because it’s not going to go away. It has demands. It’s like a child. It has demands. It will never grow up like a child will. And you have to respect it.”
This doesn’t mean giving up or accepting limitations unnecessarily. Rather, it means understanding that mental illness provides valuable information about what we need to thrive, and respecting those needs leads to better outcomes.
Living Well: Current Treatment and Life Philosophy
Today, Leite takes a combination of medications (Depakote, Neurontin, and Effexor) and maintains regular therapy. More importantly, he has developed a comprehensive understanding of what he needs to maintain stability: adequate sleep, proper nutrition, time limits on commitments, and regular recreation.
He also recognizes the ongoing nature of mental health management, describing it as listening to his illness to understand what accommodations he needs to make. This might mean limiting activities during certain weeks, ensuring adequate sleep, or taking breaks when needed.
Perhaps most remarkably, Leite says he would never trade his bipolar disorder: “What I have become, I never could have become if I weren’t manic depressive.” He credits his condition with developing his facility with language, his creativity, and his empathy. Years of trying to explain his experiences to doctors honed his ability to use metaphor and precise language…skills that made him a successful writer.
