Wired

Four months ago I had a complete breakdown and a Doctor told me he thought I might be Bipolar. I knew in myself that something was very different about this particular 'phase.' I had come off antidepressants in December of last year and since then my moods had started cycling more dramatically and more rapidly than ever before. I was very mixed up emotionally, I could laugh hysterically whilst feeling like I wanted to crawl into a hole in the Earth and I could sit and cry for hours whilst actually feeling quite well and very creative. I began to see coincidences everywhere and meaning in everything. I felt like the pain of the world was on my shoulders.

I had to go on longterm sick from the job that was smothering me and wait a very long time to be seen, eventually, by a psychiatrist. My perception of Bipolar Disorder, despite all my experience of mental illness, was incorrect. I thought 'I don't hallucinate, I don't believe I could win an Oscar next week and a Pulitzer Prize the next, I can't possibly be Bipolar...' What I didn't know, is that there are variations of the illness, different degrees and a state known as 'hypomania' as opposed to full blown 'mania.' I now take Depakote, a mood stabiliser, and Seroquel, an anti-psychotic which is believed to help with depression/anxiety, twice a day. After 5 weeks on medication I am now feeling much, much better. I can wash my hair without crying at the effort of combing it afterwards. I don't cry for days on end. I don't feel pressured to write pages and pages of thoughts. On anti-depressants, I always felt apathetic. Like a functioning robot without a personality, plodding through the nine to five like a Stepford Wife. Now, I feel my old interests coming back. This is not to say that I am against anti-depressants; it is to say that Bipolar disorder can be misdiagnosed and that antidepressants may not be the answer.
 
Although this year has brought me to hell on Earth and back, I am also thankful for some of the things it has taught me. I have learnt more about other relatives than I ever knew, that many of them have had variations of my illness without me knowing. I have become closer to the good people in my life and, unfortunately, have drifted from those who now avoid me, whether from fear of the unknown or embarrassment of association. Mental illness is a litmus test for those around you. I have also experienced the spectrum of the mental health system. I have seen the very good (Doctor's who make time to see you out of hours and listen intentively) and the very bad (Psychiatrists not responding to Doctor's referrals and Community Psychiatric Nurses advising Prozac and calling me by another patients name on several occasions.)
 
What I have come to understand the most about mental illness, is how much we who 'suffer' are supposed to know about it. When an impatient nurse called me to advise me an 'appointment with a CPN had been made for me by the PCT' I had to google the terminology. Another example is a friend of mine who recently had a baby and was in extreme emotional distress. She attended her GP to discuss how she was feeling and left with a box of Prozac. Two weeks later she was still felling very bad and called the GP back. When she asked the Dr 'I just want to know what's wrong with me...' she received the answer 'Oh, you have post-natal depression, I thought you knew that.' But she didn't; how could she? This is her first experience of being post pregnant and the term was never mentioned in her appointment.
 
The worst thing about my disorder (and I do prefer the terminology 'my quirk') is that there is no consensus as yet between the medical profession as to what works and what doesn't. Whereas one Doctor will tell you to supplement mood stabilisers with an antidepressant, another will tell you to avoid them like the plague itself. This lack of agreement is then amplified by the horror stories available to us online. Unfortunately, it seems, only those with negative experiences put finger to keypad and so we self-diagnose and prophesise our actions and reactions. I began Depakote with the belief that it a) wouldn't work and b) I would be 32 stone and bald within weeks.
 
I am happy to report I still have a full head of hair and am still a normal weight, both of which have benefited from my ability to shampoo and eat following successful treatment.
 
My advice, to anyone with a mental illness, is to shop around when it comes to Doctors. I don't say this lightly. The week before I attempted suicide I attended a GP and told him I felt a danger to myself and needed to see a psychiatrist urgently. His reaction? 'Hmmm, well counselling lists are very long, lets try some more tablets first.' These were the tablets I overdosed on. Since changing doctor I no longer feel anxious when I make an appointment, I don't leave feeling confused or uninformed and I am comfortable being honest with them about my thoughts and behaviour. Just as there are bad plumbers there are less than ideal Doctors. We shop around for plumbing quotes, so why not for the person who helps you stay alive?