Author: Katie Conibear

101 Things No-one Tells You About Mania

  1. It is more than just being happy
  2. Mania makes me feel euphoric
  3. Mania makes me feel constantly ‘on’ and ready
  4. Mania makes me feel a constant sense of anticipation
  5. Sufferers all have slightly different periods of hypomania and mania.
  6. An episode could last days
  7. An episode could last weeks
  8. A hypomanic or manic episode could last months
  9. Mania is not always fun
  10. Mania can be frightening and make me feel completely out of control
  11. Mania can make me delusional
  12. Mania can make me feel furious at everyone and everything
  13. Mania makes me feel irritable and restless to a point where I can no longer sleep
  14. Mania will make me pace incessantly
  15. I will feel that I constantly need to be doing something
  16. Sometimes mania makes me scratch and pick at my skin
  17. Sleep deprivation is agony
  18. Mania has put me in danger
  19. I will have no fear
  20. Fights will start with random people because I have no filter to what I say
  21. I will get run over because I believe cars should stop for me
  22. My driving will be reckless
  23. I will crash my car and laugh hysterically whilst it’s happening
  24. I will believe I can drive like a racing driver
  25. When manic, I’ll drink and take other drugs excessively
  26. I will drink a bottle of whisky in my flat alone just because I want to
  27. When I’m manic I’ll want sex all the time.
  28. I will wake my partner up at four in the morning because I want sex
  29. I will begin wild and whimsical projects that will take over my life
  30. These projects will be left unfinished when mania turns to depression
  31. I will be able to concentrate on projects for days on end
  32. Projects will be so important I’ll stay up all night – and then the next night
  33. I will forget to eat for days at a time
  34. I will not eat because I have more important things to do
  35. I will go to the gym obsessively
  36. I will not eat and exercise excessively
  37. I will faint in the shower because I haven’t eaten and have over exercised
  38. I will lose the ability to understand the concept of money when I’m manic
  39. I will constantly be in debt
  40. I will spend hundreds of pounds on a pair of shoes anyway because I’m manic
  41. I will stop paying bills because my memory is impaired
  42. I will stop paying bills because I believe I don’t need to
  43. I will believe everything will sort itself out because I’m too important for anything bad to happen to me
  44. Mania comes with it’s own special variety of intense anger that can’t be satiated
  45. I will punch holes in the wall so I don’t punch someone I love
  46. I will trash my possessions because the anger is too much
  47. Relationships will end because of mania
  48. The anger will cause me to lash out verbally and hurt the people closest to me
  49. Anger will cost me many opportunities; in education and my career
  50. I will neglect my job
  51. I will regularly avoid attending appointments because I’d rather be doing what I want to do
  52. I will walk out of a college course because I clash with a lecturer
  53. I will believe I’m better than everyone else.
  54. I will believe I’m the smartest person in the room, all the time.
  55. My speech will be pressured
  56. I will get annoyed when I speak too fast for people to understand
  57. I won’t realise I’m doing this and believe I’m acting perfectly normal
  58. My thoughts will race constantly
  59. I will get frustrated when people can’t keep up with my train of thought
  60. I will belittle people and call them stupid for not keeping up
  61. I won’t listen to anyone when I’m manic
  62. I will believe my opinions are more important than anyone else’s
  63. No one can reason with me during mania
  64. People will tell me I’ve upset them and I’ll laugh in their face
  65. I will make people cry
  66. Psychosis when I’m manic can spur me on to do even more dangerous things
  67. Sometimes I will secretly wish to be manic again
  68. The come down from mania to depression will make me suicidal
  69. After a manic episode ends, I will be completely and utterly exhausted
  70. This exhaustion will lead to physical illnesses
  71. You will take more time off school/work than any of your classmates/colleagues
  72. My memory and concentration will be impaired
  73. Medication is not a magic wand
  74. Therapy is not a magic wand
  75. There will be times when I will stop taking medication because I want to be manic again.
  76. Withdrawal symptoms are worse than the flu
  77. It will make me feel isolated and alone
  78. Hearing people say ‘I’m so Bipolar!’ will set my teeth on edge
  79. People will compare me to characters from tv and film depicted with bipolar
  80. People will tell me their jealous of the mania I experience
  81. People will think I’m a creative genius
  82. People won’t believe I have bipolar because they haven’t seen me in full blown mania
  83. I will worry about people finding out and thinking I’m mad
  84. I will worry about telling friends and family for fear they won’t understand
  85. Some people, who might be family or friends, will never understand
  86. The acknowledgement I will never be able to change their opinions of the disorder is heartbreaking
  87. I will worry about disclosing at interview or when I start a job, because they may find an excuse not to employ me
  88. It will take years for me to be diagnosed
  89. I will be tested for every physical ailment linked to depression and tiredness, because I won’t see a doctor when I’m manic.
  90. Mental health professionals will have differing opinions about my care
  91. I will have to adjust to the idea of living with the disorder for the rest of my life
  92. After diagnosis, I will start identifying what triggers a manic episode
  93. I will start to identify the warning signs of a manic episode
  94. I will have to rely on friends and family to identify these warning signs
  95. I will have to tell family and friends to tell me when I’ve upset them when I’ve been manic
  96. I will spend time when I’m stable again apologising for my behaviour
  97. I will learn that mania isn’t an excuse for my behaviour, but an explanation for it
  98. I will learn I have to make lifestyle changes to be stable
  99. I will learn that mania is self destructive
  100. I will learn not to miss mania when I’m stable
  101. I will learn to enjoy stability

Is It Real? Doubt And Hearing Voices

On the bus earlier, there was a couple whispering a few rows behind me. It freaked me the fuck out. Why? It reminded me of the voices I hear. The cruel, whispering words that shake me to my core.

I often hear whispering when I’m depressed, they’re malicious and make me feel extremely vulnerable. I feel out of control, like there is nowhere safe for me to go, because the voices I can’t escape, as they’re all in my head. I’ve had voices where I can make out what they’re saying, others I can’t. The kind of things they say are vicious. They prey on my insecurities and might even tell me to hurt myself.

When I can’t make out what they’re saying, weirdly, it’s worse. The mumbling and whispering scares me because they could be saying anything. My imagination runs wild. The experience feels ethereal, other worldly and there is the constant fear that suddenly a word will jump out from through the mumbling. That word could be a shout or a scream, directed straight at me.

The latter is what it felt like on the bus. The couple that were whispering, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Then comes the paranoia. Is it that couple that are whispering, really? Or is it my own mind tricking me. If I could’ve heard their conversation, it would have put my mind at rest. Only hearing snippets of words, a quiet chuckle here and there really made me feel on edge.

Since I’ve been more aware of what I hear (I was in denial for years) I often doubt the world around me. If I hear a strange tapping, a voice, a shout out of nowhere I can’t stop but think if it’s real or from inside my own mind. It definitely disrupts my day to day life. I have to think rationally about what’s happening. It’s a difficult process, but I’m learning to manage the thoughts that accompany hearing voices.

On the bus, I reminded myself that those voices can’t hurt me and I’m stronger than them. It turned out it was the couple behind me and not an episode of psychosis. When I got off the bus it was a huge relief, but I still felt insecure and vulnerable.

It’s important to talk about these experiences, and I will vent on twitter and to my partner or close friends. Hearing voices for me is an insular experience, I’m the only person that is experiencing these exact sounds and voices. No one else will. So I find it vital to open up about what it’s like in those moments. Find someone you trust, that’s non judgmental, that you can show vulnerability to. It will make a huge difference.

Unexpected Stigma

I have been very lucky with the care I’ve received from medical professionals in the past few years since my diagnosis of bipolar and psychosis. The two psychiatrists who’ve been charged with my care have been understanding and respectful. All good news. That is, until this week. I have a new psychiatrist. My first appointment with him at the end of last year was fractured and awkward. I thought that maybe we just needed to get to know each other, and build a rapport.

The appointment this week was even worse. I’m not in an amazing place at the moment. I feel stressed out and my moods feel all over the place. One moment I feel suicidal, the next I’m full of a tense energy that makes me irritable and lash out. I’d hardly slept the night before and had spent the morning before my appointment contemplating taking all my meds at once with bottle of whiskey.

My Mum took me to my appointment. Before we left we talked about how I’d been feeling. She was calm and compassionate towards me, and didn’t judge. Mum encouraged me to be completely honest with my psychiatrist and not to hide anything from him.

I walked into my psychiatrists office. He didn’t stand up to greet me, he didn’t smile, barely looking up from his computer screen. I laid it all out for him. Through tears and scattered sobs I explained how stressed I was, and how I didn’t know what to do about it. Without looking up from his screen and as he typed he passed me a box of tissues. No eye contact. No words of encouragement. No empathy. I was shocked. We sat in silence, the only noise the clacking of the keys on his keyboard.

Eventually he spoke. Matter of factly he said,

“Are you taking your medication and is it still working for you?”

I replied that they were working, but that it wasn’t the point. He made some agreeing noises. I told him about my ongoing problems with food and that I’d managed to break the binge/purge cycle of bulimia, but I was still struggling. He asked if I’d ever been referred to the eating disorders team and I said no. He left it at that. I was in too much of a vulnerable place to press him further and ask if he was going to refer me.

Then I thought ‘sod it’ I’m going to be honest about how he’s making me feel. I told him how appointments like this often put me on edge and I dreaded them. These appointments made me deal with difficult feelings and I was finding it especially tough today. Instead of providing some supportive words he simply told me I wouldn’t have to come to the hospital anymore. He was going to discharge me back to my GP. I was still crying, now my body was shaking with the tension and fear I was experiencing. None of this seemed to bother him.

I often see people celebrating being discharged from their psychiatrist or mental health team. I’m not one of them. I’m not ready for this change. I again sat in shock opposite him as he started to explain how long I should be on my meds for and the process of tapering off them. Tapering off! The second part of 2018 I’d only been truly stable for the first time in my adult life and he was talking about taking that away, already. Like I said, I was feeling vulnerable and didn’t have the capacity to challenge what he was doing.

I knew what he was doing was wrong. I knew this was stigma I was facing, but I was shocked it was coming from a psychiatrist. He wasn’t treating me with respect, as an equal. He was making decisions for me without discussion, without asking my opinion. I’m an expert on my own mental health, I live with it everyday, so I should be involved in significant changes to my care.

I’ve had time to reflect and I’m going to make an official complaint about him through the hospital. I’m also going to meet with my GP to discuss my moods and the stress I’m feeling. This isn’t ok, and isn’t the behaviour I’d expect from a medical professional.

Impatience And Bipolar

Impatience, real impatience:

Jumping up and down

Stamping my feet shouting,

“I need to know NOW”

There’s something about having bipolar that makes me impatient. When I’m depressed or manic, I need things to happen right now.

For instance, at the moment, I’m waiting for three significant pieces of news. I’m beyond over waiting to hear back. I’m feeling restless and on edge. I keep catching my leg jiggling on it’s own. I can’t seem to move on and focus on something else. My head feels all over the place.

When I’m depressed, impatience makes me feel emotional. I get stressed, tearful and overwhelmed. In mania, I want to scream out loud – and I do. I’ll get angry and have epic tantrums. This impatience makes me feel like I’m completely out of control. I feel like a toddler that hasn’t learnt to regulate their emotions. At the moment, I would say I’m more stable, but I’m under an unbelievable amount of stress. Stress does weird things to me, and is a trigger for me

Even writing this, I can’t concentrate. It doesn’t feel like my best piece of writing. I’m so frustrated and distracted. Bipolar is complicated, as I’ve said before, it’s so much more than just being happy or sad. There are so many elements to it, all competing with each other.

I think this is the shortest post on here I’ve ever written! This though, is where my head is right now.

Ten Years Of Mental Illness

Ten years ago I was a whirlwind of extreme moods, constantly battling against each other. I would suffer from severe depression, which decimated my sense of self worth. I was constantly signed off ill from work, and my career suffered because of it. I always felt exhausted and for a twenty three year old that was far from normal. It reached the point where I thought I might have M.E, I was so physically and mentally worn out.

If it hadn’t been for the other extreme I lived with, I may have started to believe it was true. That other side was mania. I would go weeks or months hardly sleeping or eating, full of a vibrant energy that never relented. I was brimming with ideas, creativity and inspiration, but at the same time I could be intensely angry with everyone and everything around me. When all this energy had depleted, as it inevitably would, I again would fall into a depression. Bipolar ruled my life, but I had no idea why. I would have to wait another four years until I was formally diagnosed.

I was also in denial. I was suffering from psychosis. I was hearing voices and I was too afraid to face it. Too afraid to tell anyone. I pretty much lived in fear and confusion of what I had, or was going to hear, next. I refused to look up why I might be hearing sounds and voices, instead I buried my head in the sand hoping it would magically all go away. I hid all this behind a smile.

The last ten years have changed me as a person. I met my future husband, who would become my safety net when things got tough. We’re not just husband and wife, we’re best friends. I went from chasing a career working with children and families, to having it all collapse around me. I was defined by my job and when I had to give up work, because of my poor mental health, I had to change my focus. I learnt there was more to life than work, and spent more time enjoying myself with friends and family. I was diagnosed which changed my life forever. I spent years finding the right combination of medication that would work for me. I’ve had therapy, but not found the one that has truly helped me deal with bipolar.

Race forward to 2019 and I have much more stability. I won’t paint a picture of recovery for you because that isn’t the truth. I still struggle but now I understand bipolar and feel more in control. The same with psychosis – which I’m facing and spreading awareness as far and as wide as I possibly can.

Those of us with severe mental illness are here and should be visible in the mental health conversation

Self care, wellbeing, mindfulness, depression, anxiety.

All words the general public are accustomed to hearing. They are part of the mental health conversation and have become integral to increasing understanding of mental illness. 

What about psychosis, schizophrenia, PTSD, OCD BPD? These are terms that still make people feel uncomfortable and on edge. People still believe that if you have psychosis or schizophrenia you’re dangerous and violent. They use the label ‘psycho’ to define you. They believe PTSD can only happen if you’ve been in a war zone, and not understand domestic violence or childhood abuse can make the same huge impact on your life. If you have BPD you’re seen as attention seeking and manipulative. If you have Bipolar you’re unpredictable and a nightmare to be around. All are untrue and have deep and long lasting effects on each person who carries these diagnosis.

I’m worried that the conversation is being hijacked by ‘mindfulness’ and ‘wellbeing’. Those of us with severe mental illness already feel isolated and often go unnoticed; I don’t want us to become invisible. People will often shy away from connecting with people that have severe mental illness. It might be a lack of understanding and education that stops them. The media then has a responsibility to highlight what makes people uncomfortable, and address it. Rather than creating articles, publishing books and making podcasts that they know will be popular, take a chance and be on the side of those that feel isolated and invisible. Mindfulness is a trend, its a fad. When it fades into the background and out of the public consciousness, what’s left? Mental illness will still be here. There will still be people fighting a battle everyday. You might disagree with me but these trends happen in cycles.

I think mental health advocates and bloggers can often live in a bubble. A bubble full of supportive, like minded people on social media. When that bubble inevitably pops, we see what public perceptions of severe mental illness are really like. It’s important that we have these difficult conversations with people that disagree, or are peddling stigmatising tropes about mental illness. It doesn’t need to be a confrontation, if we look at it from a different point of view to our own.

I have struggled with the idea of my blog not being popular. That it isn’t relatable enough. Sometimes I think I would have more readers and subscribers if I wrote more posts about general wellbeing. That if I pitched more articles about this I’d have more commissions as a freelancer. But I don’t. I’m authentic, write honestly and truthfully. The moment I stopped comparing myself to others and thought ‘fuck it, I’ll do this my way’ I found blogging much more therapeutic and enjoyable.

If you see someone taking a chance and writing about severe mental illness, support them. Like and comment on their content. Share their stories. If you see someone peeping over the parapet and writing about psychosis or schizophrenia for instance, in the press, read what they have to say. Especially articles written by ethnic minorities, men and those from the LGBTQ+ community. Again, share it far and wide and encourage others to read and learn about severe mental illness. Please don’t ignore us. We can be a vital part of the mental health conversation.

Falling Through The Gap

wp-1519209396079..jpg

I’ve lived with mental illness for more than half my life. Even so, it’s only been in the past few years where I’ve felt able to talk openly about bipolar, psychosis and bulimia.

It’s everyones responsibility to help people like me find their voice. We shouldn’t have to feel brave for speaking up, we must simply feel able to, without fear of judgement.

Through my blog, I’ve hoped to be a small part of that change. To create a safe place where the difficult, often uncomfortable conversations can be had. Speaking about my experiences of psychosis has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do, but in the end one of the most rewarding and freeing.

Even though I’m open and encourage others to be, there is a big problem. There’s a lack of support from mental health services. So many people are tirelessly working towards greater understanding of mental illnesses. We are doing our job, but the services are just not available. The government aren’t doing their job in making sure everyone that needs a hospital bed can get one. That everyone who needs therapy can receive it when they need it. Services are reactionary; people fall into crisis before they can get help. People who are suicidal are being turned away.

I’m immensely lucky to have a partner, family and friends who support me unconditionally. My partner and parents have been there when services have let me down. I talk about one such experience I had with mental health crisis care Without them, I would have fallen through the gap in services and with no safety net would’ve been in a desperate situation. There are people out there that don’t have that safety net. They don’t have a support network like I do. This is where services should come in, but at the moment they don’t.

It feels pretty hopeless right now, but there are things you can do. Write to your local MP about your concerns. Support or get involved with charities such as MIND that are trying hard to push through new and updated legislation. When the time comes, vote in the local and general elections, for a party that will support the NHS and mental health services in particular.

A Life Lived Vividly Series: ‘I Thought The Voices Were Normal’ Realising I Had Psychosis

A Life Lived Vividly

I suffer from bipolar disorder, well known for it’s symptoms of mania and depression. What many people don’t realise is that some sufferers also experience psychosis. These could include delusions, auditory, visual and tactile hallucinations. For me, I hear voices. This happens during periods of extreme moods, so when I’m manic or severely depressed. I may hear voices that are comforting or spur on my mania. Sometimes the voices are just a jumble. When I’m depressed, it becomes disturbing. Voices will scream and shout at me, or sneer vindictive threats. You can read my journal entry My Hearing Voices Journal

When I was younger, I thought having someone talk to me in my head was normal. Then, as I grew older, I knew something wasn’t right. I was denial for years. Something like this couldn’t happen to me. It just didn’t seem fair. It wasn’t until I stumbled upon an article that explained the symptoms that I began to truly accept this wasn’t right. I sat reading, with tears welling up as the realisation dawned on me; I was experiencing psychosis. I cried for a long time. The idea of telling anyone I had psychosis terrified me. What if they were afraid of me? What if they thought I was dangerous? My fear of being labelled as ‘mad’ or ‘insane’ stopped me from being honest with the people closest to me. I didn’t want to lose friends or have family treat me any differently.

Even as a sufferer my view of psychosis had been skewed by pop culture representations. You were a disturbed, dangerous individual that didn’t fit into society if you heard voices. It couldn’t be further from the truth in my case. I was just an ordinary woman; I was in a long term relationship, I worked, I went out with friends. Yet I felt stigmatised before I even reached out to anybody. I stayed silent for years, only telling my psychiatrist after a year of treatment.

I eventually opened up to my partner. It was an awkward conversation, with many pauses and silences as I struggled to explain myself. Although he initially found it difficult to understand, he was supportive and caring. He could see how upset I was becoming and how much of an internal ordeal I had been through keeping this bottled up inside. He knew all I needed from him was a hug and to hear him say ‘I love you.’ Later, I told my family and they excepted it with an ease I wasn’t expecting. I’ve begun to be open about my experiences on social media and the outpouring of support from friends has been incredible. I am truly lucky to have such open minded family and friends.

I know there and people out there who don’t understand some that are scared of psychosis. If these people opened themselves up and had a genuine discussion with someone like me they wouldn’t be afraid. Psychosis doesn’t equal dangerous . I’ve met people who believe it’s edgy and cool, or use it as a fashion statement. It’s none of those things and isn’t something you should ever wish on yourself. It is debilitating, bewildering and terribly frightening, but with support it can be tackled.

 

What Does ‘Recovery’ Mean?

Stumbling Mind Blog Button

The word recovery means very different things to different people. The word is problematic and can ultimately be damaging. When people talk about recovery it marginalises those that can’t.

Some people use the word to describe the process and not an actual milestone. Some see it as having a positive outlook, that they see as a form of recovery. Others actually mean being in a stable place and free from mental illness. ‘Clinical recovery’ is a term many mental health professionals use to describe someone who no longer presents symptoms of their mental illness. I think many people think of this when we hear the word recovery and this is my main problem with it.

I prefer to say manage rather than recover.

Managing to me signals acceptance. That the person has come to the point where they’re no longer in denial. They’re now willing to find a way to manage the condition they’re faced with. This isn’t a phenomenon categorised just for mental illness, but for many physical health problems. Managing diabetes and other long term illnesses comes with similar challenges.

Ultimately it’s about building something new for myself. 

I can’t go back to who I was before. I don’t recognise that person. For a start, she was a young teenager and without mental illness and its impact I would be an entirely different person. Would I even want to be that person? I have no idea.

If you’re not seen as moving forward, you end up feeling like a failure. There is so much pressure to be better, to be able to work and socialise, to be a productive member of society. The impetus is put on recovery above helping those that it isn’t feasible for. It’s this unattainable goal that is set for us that so many with severe and enduring mental illness will fail at. Why isn’t there more support for those that need and want to manage a mental illness?  There’s this idea that we can recover if only we tried hard enough. For some of us it’s an impossibly high standard to measure up to.

I’m not here to be an inspiration. I’m not someone that’s going to miraculously be better and totally stable for the rest of my life. It’s not realistic. I can’t pretend that everything is going to be ok. I can’t pretend to be in some form of recovery, because I’m not, and I don’t think I ever will be. I’m managing bipolar and psychosis and it will also be a part of who I am.  I don’t intend to recover from bipolar and psychosis, because it’s just not an option. This is an illness that I will have for life. It’s severe and chronic and I’ve had to accept that. It’s part of my life. I can be miserable and hate the fact, or I can learn about it, start to understand it and find ways to manage it.

 

What Nobody Tells You About Mania

image-3.jpg

As I’ve said before there is more to mania than just feeling good. It’s a complicated symptom of bipolar. When someone asks me “What’s it like to be manic?” I have to really think about it. There’s so much to it, I can’t sum it up in a couple of sentences. It goes through many stages, with different symptoms appearing, disappearing and resurfacing again.

One of the major parts of mania for me is anger. I’m not talking about irritability, like you can have with depression. What I mean is real, intense anger. My partner and I have coined the phrase ‘KatieRage’TM to describe these moments. I turn into an entirely different person, I’m completely unrecognisable.

It’s like a constant itch I can’t scratch. I can’t seem to find any relief from the anger I’m feeling.

I have a scar on my right knuckle from when I punched the wall. I hit it so hard, I left a dent in the bedroom wall. You’d think something unbelievably dramatic had happened to make me do that wouldn’t you? In reality I’d found out I didn’t get the day off work, so I couldn’t go to a party. That’s it. I get stuck in a loop of anger. One little thing will trigger it and then, I can’t move on from it. It just keeps going around and around in my head, until I found an outlet for it.

Delusional thinking can be another aspect of mania. I’ll believe I’m the most important person in the room. Actually I’ll know I’m the smartest, most valuable person on the planet. Anyone that disagrees with me is wrong. Anyone that calls me out is an idiot. Even when the right answer is staring me in the face I won’t believe it. I have to be right, because nothing else would make sense.

The anger leaks through to my delusional thinking. Because I feel that I can do no wrong, when I see people doing something differently to me, or not listening to my opinions, it makes me extremely angry. I feel like there is a tremendous pressure in my head that can only be released by me screaming, shouting, ranting and raving.

Along with delusional thinking, people with mania may also see, hear or feel things that aren’t really there. I’ll hear voices that are sometimes comforting, but mostly they drive my manic behaviours. They push me to take risks and do things I wouldn’t normally do.

Overspending. Not “Whoops I lost track of how much I spent on Saturday night” I mean serious, crippling debt. Making the choice between the gas meter and food, sort of debt. Bailiffs at the door kind of debt.

It’s a compulsion I can’t control. I know I don’t have enough money to cover my spending, but I don’t think about the consequences. Mania makes me believe that everything will sort itself out, that it doesn’t matter.

As a young person with bipolar, I was free to collect as many credit and store cards as I wanted. At one point I had four credit cards and three store cards, all spent to their credit limit. I’m still paying them off years later. I got to the point when I would regularly go beyond my overdraft limit and had literally nothing to fall back on.

Mania varies for everyone that experiences it, but for each individual it’s a complex set of symptoms. Listen to people’s experiences of mania and ask how you can support them. Whether it’s keeping an eye on significant changes to their behaviour, or their spending, small gestures can make a positive impact.