Bipolar and me. A life of two halves explained

BE HONEST, what springs to mind when you think of a person with mental illness?

What’s your first thought? If people are being truly honest, I think many would imagine a deranged, violent person with a knife, not the average person walking past them in the street.

Attitudes to mental illness are improving but misconceptions are the reason I’ve tried to hide my dark secret and don’t tend to speak about my own experiences of bipolar disorder.

Bipolar disorder, which used to be known as manic depression, is a condition that affects your moods, which can swing from one extreme to another. It affects one in every 100 people, including some high-profile celebrities. Stephen Fry, Robin Williams and Frank Bruno have all spoken about their experiences of the condition.

It can be caused by a number of things: a chemical imbalance in the brain, a previous family history, and triggers such as dealing with stressful or difficult situations. Looking back at my early life there were a few triggers.

I’ve always known I was different. I was the black face in a sea of white children at school.

Aged seven, I started to develop psoriasis, a stress-related skin disorder. My dark skin started to lighten in patches and at first I thought my dreams were coming true and I was turning white and ‘normal’.

It wasn’t long before the name calling started. ‘Michael Jackson’, ‘Vice Versa’, ‘tree trunk legs’ and ‘you’ll die a virgin’ were just a few of the taunts I endured at school.

Most of my childhood memories are positive, but there were some very painful times.

Whilst at university studying for my journalism degree in Sunderland, I overheard someone call out: “Another one here for a passport”. I was furious. I have as much right to walk the streets of this land as anyone else. I was born in the 80s to a black father and a white, middle-class mother with roots in Manchester.

As well as being singled out for my skin colour, I was constantly aware that I didn’t quite make the grade. I was clumsy and not great at sport. Aged 16, on the eve of starting my GCSEs, my behaviour suddenly changed. I felt pure elation and started to have very vivid, manic ideas. I’d never experienced anything like it.

Things came to a head at school one lunchtime, when I began dancing on the tables in the language lab. A huge crowd gathered outside and were egging me on.

It was like I was on some sort of euphoric drug. My headmaster called home and I was quickly referred to a child psychiatrist who immediately admitted me into a youth facility as an inpatient.

Within hours of arriving, I’d escaped and the police were called and radioed to be on the lookout for a Scary Spice lookalike on the loose in York city centre. A kind officer escorted me back in the police van, with me sitting up front. I loved it, and felt like a was getting VIP treatment.

I remained in the hospital for three months and gained three stones. The following autumn I had to repeat year 11 and drop down into my brother’s school year. It wasn’t easy. I felt depressed and lonely having lost all my friends who’d progressed on to sixth form.

I was prescribed mood stabilising drugs which I was told to stay on for life, but as I have a severe phobia of needles I soon came off them. It was the same story over the next decade or so. I couldn’t bear the thought of another needle. So therefore I couldn’t hack the medication.

For most of my adult life since then there have been cycles of feeling low and then very high and overactive.

My highs can often be characterised by irrational or reckless behaviour. When manically high I got engaged to someone within days. I can become exhausted or completely distracted during these times, to the extent that I once leaned over a stove and set fire to my clothes. My dad realised what had happened and rugby tackled me to the ground. I was very nearly hit by a bus on another occasion as I was so tired from doing so much.

In 2013 while in a manic episode I spent a fortune on designer bags and clothes, running up debts on my credit card.

I was given an ultimatum: willingly be admitted to hospital or be sectioned under the Mental Health Act.

I wasn’t a risk to others but my manic spending and giving large amounts of cash to the homeless and people I felt sorry for was unsustainable and I was at great risk of being exploited.

I was devastated. I’d done nothing wrong but was being forced into hospital. Due to a severe bed shortage I was taken by ambulance away from my family and friends, all the way down to a private hospital in Harrow, North London.

Later, on a date I will never forget - September 15, 2014 - I decided to end my life but came round a few days later in intensive care. I saw my family and I felt so guilty.

People don’t always understand mental illness and this has impacted on my work life and resulted in instances I felt I was unfairly treated. On one occasion a colleague who’d taken a dislike to me questioned why I was on social media late at night while signed off, and I’ve not been able to alter my hours when it would have really helped me.

Another misunderstanding led to me being wrongly accused of taking money, an accusation I found devastating.

Only recently I’ve started telling friends and employers about having bipolar and everyone has been incredibly supportive.

I have had a lot of support: I’m really grateful to Sycamore House, where I have volunteered for a couple of years, and the many doctors who have helped me, and emergency services who saved my life after my near fatal overdose - the NHS workers, ambulance service, A&E, HDU ward and intensive care.

I’m also glad of the non-judgemental support I’ve had from St Michael le Belfrey Church.

It’s been a long, hard, painful journey; but I’m now in a happy place and choose to forgive all who’ve hurt me. And to those I’ve ever hurt, I hope you forgive me too.

-The author of this piece has asked to remain anonymous

Message to readers

Please think before you speak. Your words could literally save or end a life. You never know what someone is going through and if they’re at breaking point you could be the catalyst to save them or otherwise.

Dos: If someone’s behaviour suddenly changes, ask them if they’re okay.

- If you notice a stranger who looks upset or troubled, perhaps ask them if they need any help.

- Consult a family member or another friend of someone you’re concerned about. Reassure the person you’re concerned about that you have their best interests at heart.

Don’ts: Don’t insult someone or laugh at their misfortune. I overheard a colleague at an event describe me as useless after a hard shift, where I’d come in with sleep deprivation. I was distraught and fell into a suicidal frame of mind after this one comment, believing that everyone must think this of me.

- Don’t delete or block them on social media if you can. Perhaps unfollow them, if their behaviour is annoying. Rejection from blocking or unfriending could hurt a vulnerable person and cause them to become paranoid or feel excluded/ unwelcome.

Most of all please be kind and ask yourself before you speak.

Is it true? Is it kind? Is it helpful? If not don’t say it, after all you’ll never know just how powerful your words can be.