A Life Lived Vividly Series – Psychotic Doesn’t Equal Dangerous

A Life Lived Vividly

Evil

Nasty

Freak

Bitch

Jealous

Dangerous

These are all words that people relate to psychosis. We all need to stop using it as a derogatory term. So often I hear people described as psychotic when they’re being cruel, or acting unpredictably. Recently I saw someone on twitter describing an ex as a ‘psychotic nazi.’ Politicians, especially a certain orange American one are constantly being described as psychotic. It’s lazy and ignorant to use a mental illness to negatively describe someone.

Psychosis is a mental health condition that makes you feel;

Scared

Confused

Vulnerable

Alone

I have psychosis. I hear things that aren’t really there. I’m a danger to myself when I hear voices. Those living with hallucinations and delusions are some of the most vulnerable in society. Feeling detached from reality and not being sure what you’re seeing or hearing is real can be terrifying.

Once I’d just turned the lights off and got into bed. Out of nowhere, I heard a voice, as if someone was speaking right into my ear. The voice whispered in a slow, assured tone,

“I see you.” I sat straight up in bed, my heart thudding in my chest. I couldn’t move, I felt paralysed with fear. I couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. I couldn’t calm down and kept hearing that voice whisper in my ear. Even now when someone says that phrase I’m transported back to that night and I feel deeply uncomfortable.

People with psychosis are far more likely to hurt themselves than others. According to Time To Change

‘Over a third of the public think people with a mental health problem are likely to be violent.’

Psychosis doesn’t make you a ‘psycho’. It doesn’t make you a freak. It doesn’t mean you’re scary. It doesn’t mean you’re dangerous.

How do you think it makes those feel that have psychosis to keep hearing the word used to describe murderers and violent criminals? Hearing it in tag lines for horror films and descriptions for Halloween costumes? It hurts. It makes a tiny piece of you feel that maybe you’re actually evil and dangerous, because you’ve heard it so many times.

I’m in a place now where I understand my condition, and I’m learning to manage it. It wasn’t always this way and for me and many others like me I was terrified of opening up about my experiences for years.

Too many people mix up the meaning of psychosis with other disorders. They use the term psychopath to describe those with psychosis. They aren’t the same thing. Psychosis means a person will hear, see or feel things that aren’t really there, or a combination of these. It doesn’t mean you’re going to go hurt anyone.

We’re ill not dangerous. We deserve compassion, understanding and to be listened to without judgement. Please think about the language you use and how harmful it can be. Your words can cause more harm than you realise. They could cause someone to remain silent and not look for help that they desperately need.

The Problem With “I’m Fine!” When Really We’re Not

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We all do it. We say this even when we’re not ok. Someone casually asks,

“Hey, how are you?” and we say,

“I’m fine!” and that’s it.

Why do we do this?

To be polite. We don’t want to make the other person feel awkward or embarrassed. Sometimes it’s something people ask how you are as an ice breaker, to get a conversation moving. We believe they aren’t really expecting a detailed response, because they have an ulterior motive for talking to us.

It’s a knee jerk reaction. We say it without even thinking. We’ve said it hundreds of times before and now it’s become second nature. Even if we want to say no, I’m not fine, we’ve said it already and feel like we can’t backtrack.

We feel rushed. Life often feels like it’s rushing by, and our days feel full to the brim. It’s the same with our conversations. Everyone is in such a hurry to get to their point, to say what needs to be said, they don’t stop and take time to really talk. But most importantly, we don’t always feel like we will be listened to.

We’re conditioned to say it. Everyone reacts the same way to the same question. It’s almost seen as improper to reply in any other way. We’ve grown up hearing it. Our parents said it as we were growing up. Our friends say it. Our colleagues say it. We overhear it in public. Because we’ve heard it again and again, by so many different people, there seems like there’s no other reply to make.

All of these reasons are there for one reason only. The F word; Fear

We fear what someone will think if we’re honest. We’re worried about the reaction we’ll get. The stigma attached to feeling unwell mentally means we hide our true feelings. We’re scared that the person who asked the question will not take us seriously, will judge us, will think we’re weak, or simply not care. In that split second these thoughts circle our minds and we answer how we always do.

I don’t want people to feel guilty for saying “I’m fine.” I don’t want mentally unwell people to feel the weight of having to change their behaviour. It’s up to both sides to change the course of the conversation.

Asking how someone is isn’t a simple question. No one is just ‘fine.’ So we shouldn’t expect that answer and should answer that question honestly and openly. I’ve spoken on the blog about self honesty before, which is part of what we need to do to be honest with others.

“Actually I’m not ok.”

“Honestly I’m struggling at the moment.”

“Life’s tough right now.”

When you’re asking how someone is, really mean it. Sit down with them, over a drink or a meal so they feel that you’re present in the conversation. Build up to it. Don’t just blurt out “How are you?” If you’ve noticed a change in them recently start with that.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been quieter recently”

“I’ve been a bit worried about you”

“I thought it would be good to have a catch up.”

Time To Change are running a simple yet powerful campaign encouraging people to ask twice. Asking someone how they are and if they respond with they’re ok, ask them again. It shows you actually want to have a meaningful conversation with them. You’re not rushing them, you’re not waiting for your turn to speak.

Have that conversation, be honest and frank about how you’re feeling. For both sides it will make a difference.

“Why Are You Walking On Eggshells?” How I Began To Recognise Manic Anger

I saw my parents today. They came over to my flat and I made them coffee. We had a catch up and giggled at my Mum attempting to play video games.

We moved on to how well I’ve been coping recently. They told me they were so happy to see me stable and well. Then they told me what they didn’t miss about me being ill. The mania and what it often leads to; anger. They don’t hold back my Mum and Dad. They tell me how it is. Although, it’s been a long road to get to this point.

My family and partner used to creep around me when I was manic. They didn’t want to say anything that would make me lose my temper and really, just about everything did.

I used to be fully aware that everyone around me was scared to call me out on my behaviour. The problem when I’m manic is that I’m delusional and believe that whatever I do and say is right and justified. No one can tell me otherwise. Knowing they were too worried to say anything to me riled me up even more. It made me feel like a freak, someone that needed fixing and I hated that idea.

I’ve learnt to recognise it. Here’s how:

One of the main ways I’ve done it is making sure my family and friends call me out on my behaviour. I don’t mean confront me, or make negative statements. They tell me my anger or behaviour isn’t normal for me (normal for me, because there’s no such thing as normal) and I should take a step back and think about how my actions are hurting others.

The problem with this is when I’m manic I can’t be reasoned with. Everyone is wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me. I can’t see through my behaviour. There’s no voice telling me to stop or behave. No usual voice of reason we all have that says,

“Should you really do/say that?”

I’ve learnt to rely on my partner and family to be that voice of reason.

When I’m in the midst of bipolar anger there’s no point telling me to calm down. Or to explain anything really, it just doesn’t get through to me. So I ask people to tell me when I’m more stable how out of control I was. Then I’m in the mindset to say I’m sorry and reflect.

They know I need help at those points. I won’t realise it, but my loved ones do. A support system is so important to have. They keep me grounded in reality when otherwise my world would unravel.

Mind Media Awards 2018 – Shortlisted, ME?!

Last night I was checking my emails and a message popped up. It said ‘Mind Media Award Shortlist’ I was fully expecting a resounding,

“Thank you, but unfortunately..” response, which is pretty much the story of my life.

Then I clicked in and it said,

“Congratulations!”

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I screamed out loud. Jumped up and down in the middle of the lounge. Then I sat down and read the rest of the email.

“What the actual fuck!” That was all I could think. I could feel myself shaking. I could feel the tears coming, and I didn’t fight them.

I’ve felt like a failure for so long. I dropped out of Uni. I stormed out of college. I left a fantastic job that I adored and was genuinely good at. I reached my 30th birthday feeling utterly directionless. All because of my mental health issues. I’ve doubted myself countless times.

Now though having a mental illness and writing about it candidly and honestly has positively impacted my life. Knowing my words have been recognised and most importantly have reached and helped people has made me feel so proud. The proudest I’ve ever felt in my life.

Here’s a mega thank you to everyone who reads and follows this blog, I genuinely appreciate you all. Your likes and comments have inspired me to keep writing, when I doubted my blog was worth it.

So many with mental health issues can relate to feeling worthless, a failure. Always keep going, you never know what’s around the corner x

Writing Is My Therapy

Writing has always been an important part of my life. I remember filling notebook after notebook with reams of ideas and stories as a kid. Writing was my escape. As I got older I continued to write and it became a release from the depression that had suddenly manifested into my life. I even decided to go to University to study creative writing.

As an adult, I’ve had many struggles with mental illness. The symptoms of bipolar ran my life and my attempts to control the highs and lows were in vain.

I began to write, but this time, it began as a journal. I’d never kept a diary before. I just started to write, and soon everything was laid out. How much I’d been struggling, how guilty, helpless and ashamed I felt. It helped me immensely. I felt a release to see all these thoughts that I’d bottled up committed to paper.

Writing became my own private therapy.

I’ve had therapy, CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) a couple of times. The first time round it really helped. I went to the sessions to help me deal with panic attacks. I learnt some important techniques and a new way of thinking about the experience. I use them to help me deal with nighttime panic attacks . The panic attacks subsided afterwards, and now I very rarely have one, maybe only once a year.

My second experience of CBT was not so positive. It wasn’t long after I’d been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was offered group therapy and wanting to know more about the condition, and share experiences with others, I said yes. The course didn’t help. It was basic, and didn’t teach me anything new about the condition. There was never any time to share our experiences. I still felt alone.

I continued to write, but now I wanted to share what I’d written. I started a blog, this blog. Although now I don’t always write about my personal experiences, writing still helps me.

It gives me focus and a sense of purpose when I’m depressed. It helps me to stay calm and concentrate when I’m manic. It drowns out the voices and helps me process the experience when I’m psychotic.

I’m not in therapy at moment. A lack of therapeutic styles on offer from the NHS means I’d have to seek private therapy. I can’t afford to do that, so my option is talking therapies; that didn’t go well last time

So for now writing will have to be my therapy. I’m sort of ok with that. I’m annoyed that I can’t access actual therapy, but at least I’ve found something in my life that helps me.