As mental health professionals we talk about these illnesses, some of which our only understanding is that which we have gained from reading a textbook. We have a vast amount of evidence based literature: published studies, well sourced journal articles and a breadth of information available to us through healthcare databases and subscriptions. I do wonder, though, without having the actual lived experience of mental illness, how much we can truly understand and empathise with what someone else is experiencing. This post is about my personal experience of mental illness, and to encourage my colleagues and other mental health professionals to think about how they can bring their own experiences to their practice to enhance empathy and understanding; and truly take respect, hope, and solidarity and transform these in to more than just healthcare buzz words, but a reality.
My Experiences of Bipolar Disorder
Bipolar disorder is something that has only recently been recognised as a part of my life. For a long time I was severely depressed, but when I look back as early as the beginning of my teenage years I see evidence of episodes of hypomania and severe paranoia.
Depression is nothing but a bully. It takes every bit of strength you have and turns it in to a venomous self hatred. It takes every ounce of energy and uses it to tell you what a pathetic, worthless and awful human being you are and that everyone hates you, everyone is staring at you, and everyone is thinking that you’re a disgusting waste of space that shouldn’t be allowed to exist. It takes any motivation you have and internalises it; the only motivation you have is used in a way that is dedicated to sending you off the wagon with 10,000 thoughts per second, and you can’t keep up with them all let alone pick a single thought out of the whole lot of them. It’s exhausting, but it doesn’t let you sleep. It keeps you laying staring at the ceiling night after night, wondering what the point of it all actually is. Leaving the bed is impossible, never mind the house. After a while, the thoughts associated with depression subside. It would seem that you no longer have thoughts, or feelings, about anything really. Your life has become a cold and debilitating numbness. Everything around you seems to be completely black and white. The colour has gone completely out of your world and no longer are there even shades of grey.
Depression is laughing at you. It’s laughing at you because got it’s claws around your throat, so much that you can’t breathe. You’re consumed with anxiety because you don’t just think the world is against you any more, you know it. So you beg and you plead but it makes the depression stronger. The more you try to fight, the tighter depression’s grip.
Everything is so slow because depression has a ball and chain around each of your ankles. Why are you moving so slowly when the world is moving so fast? You can’t keep up with it, but you know the world isn’t going to wait for you. The clock is ticking so slowly, every minute feels like an hour but before you know it you’ve spent yet another day in bed. You’re so angry with yourself and depression tells you that you should feel incredibly guilty, because you have things to do that you haven’t done. This just confirms it, depression tells you. You’re a pathetic waste of space.
The people around you, they tell you to keep your chin up. “Just get up, have a nice shower, you’ll feel much better once you get out of the house.” They think they’re helping, but depression is always one step ahead. Because why does it take so much energy and effort to just get in the shower and go out? You should be ashamed of yourself, you can’t even do the simplest of tasks. You really are so stupid and rubbish at life.
People, even with the best of intentions, they don’t know how to help. “Life is what you make it. You don’t want to be unhappy? Then don’t!” people say as they think they are being insightful and inspiring. “You just need to push yourself! No matter how hard life gets,” they tell you, “there’s always someone worse off than you.” Depression uses statements like this as a stick to beat you with. “They’re right! You’re so ungrateful. There are children dying across the Globe, don’t you KNOW?!”
Society tells you that you’re lazy, and you can’t have time off work sick because of THAT. It’s not a real illness, it’s all in your head. All of these lazy people who can’t be bothered to go out and work, taking the taxpayer money, they say. Depression agrees with them. You’re so lazy, you’re a disgrace, a burden on society. Why were you even blessed with a life that you’re only wasting?
Mania is just as much of a bully as depression, only depression is more honest about it. Mania is a two faced Devil, Satan dressed in the clothes of an Angel. Mania wraps you up in euphoria, and then strikes when you’re too busy to notice. The colour is suddenly back! You’re cured! You are finally free from depression’s grip. It is time to stop taking all of your medication, because you are finally well again. You can finally live a normal life. You know that last time you stopped taking all of your medication, you had a severe relapse. But it really is different this time! Those closest to you don’t believe you. They think you are still ill and want you to continue taking your medication. But why would you need to do that when everything is so wonderful? So you begin to go to all lengths necessary to hide from them the vast amounts of pills that you flush down the toilet or place in the dustbin in their masses.
Those around you tell you you’re acting odd, and society tells you that you’re crazy. What are they talking about, you wonder? Don’t they know I’m on a mission to save the world? “If only people understood that you have a God given gift”, Mania tells you. “Mere civilians could not possibly understand the extent of your power, they don’t have the gift that you have.”
You haven’t showered in days, you don’t have time to shower. You have got so much to do! You begin cramming in 48 hours worth of work into 24 hours. All of this is very important and you simply have to do it, you can’t give it to someone else to do because they are simply not as good at it as you are. No one is as good at anything as you are. You’re enlightened, intelligent, and your existence is extremely important to the world. No one else would possibly be able to function if it wasn’t for you.
You begin to stop meeting up with your friends and returning their calls because you have much more important things to be getting on with. You push everyone close to you away, and then all of a sudden you find yourself alone. Mania has isolated you, ready for depression to take hold of you once more.
Mixed episodes are the ones to watch out for. They’re the most dangerous, when suddenly you have so much energy and motivation to put in to hating yourself. You lose all sense of identity, and no longer understand what is your own personality and what is the illness. You find yourself in episodes of wild laughter, with the brightest smile on your face while you deeply feel as though life is no longer worth living. From the deepest corners of your brain, you *know* everyone on the bus is staring at you. You *know* that if you don’t run home, they are going to get you and harm you. You *know* that everyone hates you, and that you’re an awful person. But you keep going at 100,000,000mph with so much to do that is oh so important! And at the exact same time as being awful and damaging to those around you, you are wonderful, refined and a gift to the Earth. This is very confusing, so confusing that your emotions and thoughts continuously contrast as they are the exact opposite at the exact same time. There are no words that I could possibly use here to encompass how distressing this experience is.
Why am I talking about this?
I’m talking about my experiences of mental illness as a soon-to-qualify RMN because I have an interest in sharing these experiences in solidarity. To let people know that they are not alone, with a desire to inspire hope. One of the most crucial aspects to recovery and something that we are continuously advocating is talking about mental health and challenging the stigma associated with mental illness. If we are not open and honest, how can we expect those we work with to be open and honest? If we don’t talk about our mental health, how can we possibly advocate that others do so? How can we dispel the stigma of mental illness if we put ourselves on a different level to those we work with? As individuals brought together on an equal level, we have a much louder voice and that’s when we can really begin to inspire change.
I will never forget on my first ever placement as a student MHN. One lady (who incidentally had bipolar disorder) said to me: “how could you possibly understand? You’re only young, you don’t know anything about what I’m going through.” Well, actually…..
My name is Cassie and I am a student mental health nurse at the University of Leeds (hence the title future MHN)! I was born in Scarborough, moved to & lived in Chesterfield for a while, and now I am living in Leeds with my partner.
Future MHN 