hospitalised

I was diagnosed with bipolar aged 25. I was diagnosed just before what would be a two year stint of psychosis and mania that would see me get sectioned four times. This only confirmed the diagnosis to me and those looking after me. Although it was a chaotic time and I wouldn’t want to go back, it allowed me to access therapies and medications that I may not have been able to access had I not been so poorly. It shouldn’t take you being at your worst to get the help you need, but that is the world we live in and even sometimes when you are at your worst you still don’t get heard. I am forever grateful I had my family and particularly my Mam looking after me. She was my voice when I could not speak and although I was very unhappy about even just her presence when I was in hospital, I think that was more a sign of how unwell I was more than anything. I really was glad for her constant visits.

I was not sane of mind. I was hearing voices and those voices were saying I had to leave the hospital and go to Saudi Arabia. I was telling the doctors, “I’m not going home with my Mam. I have to go to Saudi.” I believed I would be safe there from the people who wanted to harm me. I had changed my name and forged a new signature. Sometimes, when I tell people about it now they can’t believe it because I seem so well. And I am in a good place really. I’m a million miles away from where I was back then. If I could take a pill to assure I never go back there I would, but I can’t so instead I take an antipsychotic in the hopes it will do the same.

The thing is, antipsychotics aren’t magic. They can’t assure you will never get sectioned again. They are actually very risky drug to take long term. I have many side effects from taking them at such high doses. Those that I will live with for the rest of my life. Do I still have bad days? Of course. Do I still have bad thoughts? Well, yes. I’ve spent four months of my life hospitalised. It’s bound to affect me. But I’ll do my damndest to make sure I never go back. And if taking an antipsychotic each day makes that difference then I’ll do it.

I know many people with bipolar hate taking medication, for various reasons, but I have seen it for myself; these people unfortunately tend to end up back in hospital. I don’t want to live my life this way. Going in and out of hospital changes you, you lose friends and family, you lose yourself, you hurt people, you hurt yourself. It's not a smooth process. It’s not an easy life to lead. You have to readjust to society. In some ways hospital can be a comfort blanket. You get medication that you might not get in the community, you get fed and watered but that’s it. You can’t stay there forever and you will always have to face the consequences when you come out.

When I came out of hospital the last time that was when the real work started. I was about five stone heavier than when I first went into hospital eighteen months earlier. The antipsychotics had increased my appetite big style and I was being injected with them by force at the highest dose. I had no control over my weight and it was affecting my self esteem. I already had an eating disorder so this was really difficult for me in particular.

On top of this, I had the sudden realisation that the past two years of my life were based on a lie. That I had been telling everyone around me they were making things up and were in the wrong but in fact it was me. It was gut wrenching. How could it be? I genuinely believed my neighbours were stalking me. Stealing money from me. That’s just the start of it. I could write a book, a dissertation on all of the things I believed that weren’t true. They were so intricate and detailed. I can’t fathom how my brain would or could make those things up. Why would my mind work against me like that, I don’t know.

Even to this day, I can get emotional about it. My bipolar has been in my life since I was a teen. My bipolar has led me to multiple suicide attempts. My bipolar has caused me to steal, lie and cheat. My bipolar has lost me friends. My bipolar has left me homeless. My bipolar has lost me two years of my life. My bipolar has seen me hospitalised.

The list goes on. But despite all this, I keep going. Life goes on and I shake it off and keep moving.

If you have bipolar, psychosis or another severe mental health condition and are having a hard time. Know that you can keep going. Life will throw stuff at you. Sometimes it will be horrible. But we’ve just got to keep going. Keep on, keeping on if you can. Too many of us couldn’t.

When you’re experiencing psychosis, your memories feel so raw. You relive every moment of your life but at a million miles an hour and then wonder why those around you aren’t doing the same. Then you get locked up and then there is nothing left to do but think about all those moments that become memories that will soon become dots because you will either become too ill to function or those who you used to socialise with and call friends or even family won’t want to anymore because they’ve seen you at your worst and they aren’t here for it.

People say they support mental health and people should talk more until it lands on their own doorstep. I’m not saying they are right or wrong. It’s hard to deal with, but at least they weren’t living with it like my family had to. At least they could walk away. And I bear no grudges. I understand. I’ve got friends in the system now and it can be challenging talking to them when they don’t know what’s what. It is a really sad time because at times it feels like they will never get better, but you have to have hope. You have to have faith in people. If you don’t have that then what do we really have left at all?

#Bipolar #Psychosis #BipolarDisorder #Recovery #MentalHealth #sectioned #hospitalised #Faith