It takes you by the hand
And leaves you nowhere
You feel it in your nerves
It’s choking out the sun
You try in vain to be persuaded
That it’s nothing…

Living my life with a chronic mental health condition; Bipolar Type 1 is quite honestly the worst thing that I have ever had to deal with. Sounds dramatic right, but it isn’t. Mental health is a minefield at best and no one knows enough of how to manage, medicate and live with their diagnosis. Being told at such a young age that my life is never going to be ‘normal.’ That I will most definitely, if I want to be classed as functioning or well?! Be medicated to the heavens on prescription drugs that will carry a whole list of side effects that quite literally dictate how my day is going to go. Or that despite being medicated with an anti psychotic, anti depressive a mood stabiliser and lets throw in a sleeping pill for those long insomnia fueled nights; I still will and do have manic, hypo manic, depressive and manic depressive relapses. BRILLIANT!

So in short, Bipolar type 1 is lifelong with no known cure.

I try not to feel sorry for myself or others that too have a diagnosis like mine. However, the stigma and lack of understanding from friends, family and the general public is frustrating. The generalised perception of someone with a mental health condition (and talking from my own circumstance) a chronic diagnosis of Bipolar is that we are all ‘crazy, loons, dangerous, unpredictable, unstable, hard work, fun time people, lazy, unmotivated, complacent with our illness and unlikely to seek or respond to help and treatment, batshit, difficult, hypersexual, promiscuous, sad, depressed, feel sorry for ourselves, resigned to fail.

This of course, is a very general list of things I have been called or had referred to my behaviour and actions. Now I’m not using it as an excuse but they are a direct result? complication? side effect? of my illness. Some would agree and some will not like what I am about to say but why should I be ashamed, embarrassed of the fact that I have an illness that renders me unable to function conventionally. (I don’t know why I prefer that term but normal is so overused and undefined?!) Why am I not able to access appropriate and consistent care and treatment that is so desperately needed. Dare I say it? If I had diabetes, a heart condition or even cancer I imagine my chronic condition would be viewed with a lot more compassion, understanding and want to help.

I must sound completely awful and ungrateful to some because of course there are some amazing people, services and treatments available to those who need it. But talking from experience, this all becomes available more easily in the moments of crisis. For example, if I noticed that my medication wasn’t working or agreeing with me anymore I would have to seek advice from my GP. Pretty standard stuff I guess. But then my GP would have to consult with a specialist, this could take a few weeks.
In this time I have quickly declined and self withdrawn the medication that was causing issues (believe me when I say the list of side effects is endless!) Sounds stupid right, surely something is better than nothing? But when I tell you that common side effects to my medication alone can be: vomiting, diarrhea, headaches, fatigue, tremors, memory loss, hair loss, weight gain, feeling more depressed, over eating, under eating, changes to taste and smell, sight issues, suicidal feelings, insomnia… The list goes on.
Throw a couple of these in together, lets say vomiting and diarrhea alongside tremors. Then add a more severe side effect like insomnia. So at this point I am tired and physically exhausted as well as mentally exhausted because remember, these medications are not curing the illness, symptoms or side effects, they are masking or altering them, so the illness is still there. I still battle everyday with thoughts of grandeur, racing thoughts, feelings of self disgust, hate even. The battle to sleep but not even being able to escape the intrusive thoughts and paranoia in the depths of sleeping pills that could knock out a horse. So overall this is a bit of a struggle and I am awaiting my referral appointment and I feel a little better without my anti psychotic, but am I? I mean, on the face of it I am more productive, I am seemingly happy and laughing.
But the voices in my head have become louder and more intrusive, they aren’t always in my head; they are actual delusions. The paranoia is ridiculous. I joke about it now but once during a manic relapse I was convinced that a couple of complete strangers were from the FBI and had come to Maidstone to track me down and kidnap me. I ran through Maidstone town confused and scared to Ash who came and picked me up after receiving a worrying phone call from my manger at the time. I then went on to not speak for 3/4 days, not a word to anyone for fear of something happening to me… I genuinely believe, not just think, that people are conspiring against me. Stealing my thoughts right from my head and using them against me.
(And for me this is a distinguishing difference between paranoia and anxiety, the belief aspect and the magnitude of the scenario of paranoid symptoms.)
At this point it is getting harder and harder to function and mask the bipolar tendencies. To be able to rationalise and think straight. I’ve received my referral appointment but probably haven’t opened the letter for fear of it being another final payment notice from the last relapses overspend or I have opened it but the scary thing about mania is, I, like most others who experience the same actually love it, so the letter has been disregarded. I am now lost in the system. GP’s don’t have the time to check in on patients neither do the specialists, I’ll miss the appointment and they wont chase me. Rightly or wrongly…

Soon I am out of touch with reality and it is too late. Intervention at a higher level is needed. I am probably manic depressive (my go to relapse state) I am reckless in behaviour and attitude towards life. Noticeably drinking too much, not sleeping enough and then one day the intrusive suicidal thoughts will prevail and I will attempt to take my own life. Now comes all the aftermath of that. Crisis teams, psychiatrists, consultants, hospital admissions and the long road to a new beginning, because recovery isn’t possible. The word itself comes with the connotation that you will be back to a previous state of being the person you were before. When in fact this is complete bullshit. No one ever recovers from this kind of thing. It is life changing and you evolve and adapt to a new state of being. Most commonly that initial state being one of survival. How do I get through this, surviving a sincere suicide attempt is lonely and depressing. Thoughts of failure take on a whole new meaning and the guilt evoked from the ones you were ready to say goodbye to is honestly heartbreaking. Suicide is associated with being selfish and I agree it is, completely. But until you yourself are experiencing those genuine thoughts, thoughts that turn to plans; plans of impulsivity or careful consideration I genuinely beg you to empathise with someone who doesn’t see the light like you can, the someone that is all consumed with intrusive voices and visions that can be far from complimentary. The someone that feels no self worth that they genuinely think they wont be missed, the someone that doesn’t want to and cannot face to fight anymore. Until you can honestly understand and appreciate that death by suicide is combination of complex issues. Try not to judge those who see it as an option to them.

I am very lucky. I do in fact have a wonderful and attentive support network around me. This extreme scenario has happened few times. More commonly I naturally relapse and it is usually as a result of stress or something significant happening, like when my Mum initially got sick or when I was pregnant with Penelope. My people are good at noticing the signs and triggers for me. But I too have to take a huge fucking load of responsibility for myself. I have to take my medication, I have to notice and speak up when I am struggling. This is something I have learnt through the 20 years of living with my Bipolar and knowing the there are two little people in my world that need me to be the best I possibly can be.

This isn’t easy though and my goodness if one more person tells me it will all be okay, or cheer up, you have so much to live for, things will get easier, its just a moment, make sure you take your meds, are you looking after yourself, just try, see the happy things. UGHHHH FUCK OFF.

I do do this. Every fucking day. I am exhausted from my illness, from my medication and from every day life. I try and hold down a full time job despite my difficulties, I help run a household and manage two little children’s lives and their troubles. I try to maintain a healthy social life, which in itself presents a whole new problem. As an adult, many social events and activities involve an element of social drinking. Now it would be so easy for you to suggest I just do not drink, but it is a form of self medicating. Alcohol for me, allows me to see a glimmer of ‘me’ again. The unmedicated, carefree, somewhat manic, irresponsible, fun Becka makes an appearance. I don’t think I will ever truly be able to explain to anyone how liberating this feeling is. Feeling like myself, with all my flaws but in true glory. Of course it is dangerous if abused too often, but like for everyone, alcohol lowers barriers, softens inhibition’s and impairs judgement (although for me, I think it makes my judgement clearer LOL) which generally, despite the hangover, makes for a really good time!

So while I am juggling everyday life balance which we all have to do. I am also facing a battle everyday with myself, my mind. I saw a quote that said “My Bipolar is not a mind over matter issue. The issue is that my mind is the matter!” and this screamed at me because it is so true. I know I am not the only person in the world with problems, or a mental health condition, chronic or not. But I am the only person that is me and has to deal with my demons.

So when I liken mental health conditions to physical health conditions I’m not doing it to disrespect or disregard the severity or complications that come with any of those I am quite simply asking you not to disregard the severity or complications that come with mine.

I have to respect my diagnosis and live with it for the rest of my life. It has taken absolutely precious moments from me, like being pregnant with Penelope and the first 6 months after Penelope was born, having the crisis team visiting me in my family home on Christmas day was a massive low, but I was mildly manic and severely depressed which amounted to thoughts of suicide and I needed to be kept safe. My options were daily home visits and phone calls or hospital admittance.

Then there have been days, weeks, months of my life that have been consumed without me even knowing at the time. Time spent wasted in bed, sleeping the days and nights away. Or days lost to confusion and paranoia where ‘benders’ have been fueled to numb the pain of my reality. The reality that I will never recover fully, I will never escape this ‘fate’ I will always have a disease that is characterised by extreme mood swings that vary from mania to depressive that last for a substantial period of time. Is it a chemical imbalance, is it genetics, trauma induced, was a born this way or is it just my fate… Just my luck haha.

I have lost so much more in my life due to having bipolar. Of course I am and will always be responsible for my actions and not everything that has happened or will happen is because ‘my bipolar told me to do it!’ What it does do though, is it allows the imparity of my own mind to sometimes take over. It is a fine balance that sometimes I think I have cracked, then I do something risky, or without thinking through the consequences properly, by which I mean acknowledging them and respecting them. I really do have the ‘fuck it’ attitude too much sometimes. This in turn has cost a lot of relationships in my life. I will say though generally speaking all those I have lost, I think they genuinely thought that they were the hero who was going to support and get me through the bad times. Yet when it came to it, the dark and manic; jumping in front of moving cars, walking off with strangers who look like they’re having a good time, drinking till I can’t see anymore, crying so hard in a pile on the floor, overdosing in hot baths.. Only a few, the best few have stuck around. To those I owe my life and I will love eternally.

I am not easy to love. A lot of the characteristics I defined at the beginning of this blog are somewhat true in circumstance. I am very unpredictable at times and my moods can and do swing from one extreme to the next. I can be absolutely fine in one moment then something or sometimes someone and more commonly a paranoid thought process which will lead to overthinking and subsequently result in my mood flipping. (It is not always guaranteed which end of the bipolar spectrum I will go; manic or depressive.) Which I can appreciate and do acknowledge fully is not easy. I am not always easy to read and as strange as it may seem, I am not always good at expressing how I feel for the fear of how others will react. Will my high emotions push this person away? If I am too honest about how depressed I feel will they get fed up and leave? If I tell them how I really feel will they laugh at me and walk away? Being honest and true to myself to others; letting them see the mania and the depressive state is scary because so many have proven that they will just walk away. Some of them will even kick you when you’re down and slag you off to anyone willing to listen dragging your name well and truly through the dirt. Like it isn’t already impaired enough. So when I do, or someone in the same circumstance does open up or let you in, know they have done it with sincere caution and not without fear that once you see symptoms?
You wont run away.

I have always found it so hard to not feel so intensely with every emotion I feel. I love with every fiber of my soul. I notice and acknowledge likes and interests with a hope to impress and obtain reciprocation. I want and crave love from all. I mean everybody wants to be liked and loved right? But I think because I overthink everything, every conversation, encounter, night out, off comment, my automatic thought is that I am actually unlovable and easily replaced. Who would miss me anyways. A constant battle of self loathing when loving others so intensely it scares them off.
Then there is the flipside the contradiction of my illness, loving the mania and feelings of emotion, love especially feeling somewhat euphoric. I never feel anything less than amazing when manic. I feel sexy, beautiful, intelligent, confident, unstoppable even. I believe I am the best at all I do and any fool that doesn’t believe these thoughts of grandeur about me are themselves the crazy ones. Everyone is looking at me, but not in anything less than adoration. I can be, do and have whatever I want. Another fine line I battle with wanting and hating everyday.

I have rambled a lot and created a series of somewhat hypothetical scenarios in this blog post. Although in fairness to my imagination, they are all very plausible, if not entirely true. I’m not sure that it all flows, I should probably proof read and edit this later, but inline with my impulsivity and scattered mind; I probably won’t worry too much about being all that professional lol.

I guess in all honesty, I have no aim with this blog. I am simply off loading a lot of my thoughts and feelings, alongside my fears and darkness. I said to a good friend the other day, the biggest thing that scares me in life is myself. I fear what my mind is capable of allowing me to think and in turn believe. I have for every scenario in my life thought of a thousand alternative interpretations or ‘false realities’ convincing myself that something hasn’t happened or been said or the opposite that something has happened or been said, each separating me from the factual reality you might have witnessed or been part of. This is another reason why I find it hard to trust people, because my sense of reality is already so warped and distorted, it is easy to manipulate and gaslight me. Don’t worry darling, I already believe that I am the problem… I genuinely respect my diagnosis but in turn respect carries with it an element of fear.

I’m not going to sugarcoat this next part, being open, honest and truthful in my experiences are genuinely why I write, divulge, share as much as I can; for the hope that one day someone will be writing about a cure for this savage and permanent delirium called Bipolar.
Because ultimately I am scared of my Bipolar. I am scared of its power and the power I give it, and that in the end of all this it will be the death of me…

“We must try not to sink beneath our anguish… But battle on.”
Albus Dumbledore
Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Music speaks to my soul, as you all, already know.
If you are in my life or ever have been there is probably one or two or more songs that I will sing and sometimes dance along to remembering the good and bad times we shared together.
Here are some of my go to and favourites to sing along to and occasionally cry to..

Blink 182 – Here’s a letter for you
City and Colour – Sleeping Sickness
P!nk – Sober

Being Becka x