In Other Words: Five metaphors for mental illness

Here at Rethink Mental Illness, we're passionate about providing a platform for real, authentic stories of living with a mental illness.

Over the next five weeks, we'll share five stories. Each one is written by a real person who describes their experience of mental illness as a metaphor. We'll be updating this page every week, so keep an eye out for the next story.

We think there isn't enough awareness or understanding of what it means to be severely affected by mental illness.

If you agree, join us. Like, comment, share and save our posts on Instagram and Facebook.

Together, we can raise awareness of the realities of being severely affected by mental illness.

A light switch - Shanice

Living with bipolar disorder is like being a light switch wired wrong.

Sometimes, you're flipped on but the bulb blazes, too bright, almost buzzing with heat. You clean the house at 3 a.m., rearrange your furniture twice, call old friends with new plans, start five projects at once. You’re electric. You don’t sleep because who needs sleep when you feel like daylight?

Then suddenly — click — you’re off. Not dimmed. Just off. No spark, no glow. Even standing up feels like rewiring the entire house. Things you love sit in shadows. The room is the same, but you can’t see it anymore. You forget what light even felt like.

And the worst part? You don’t control the switch. It flips on its own — unpredictably, sometimes violently — leaving you wondering when the next surge or blackout will hit.

But over time, you learn where the fuses are. You add a dimmer here, a breaker there. You don’t always control the current, but you begin to understand it.

Instagram | Facebook

Seismometer needle - Ida

C-PTSD (complex post-traumatic stress disorder) feels like I'm a seismometer needle measuring an earthquake. A machine of constant motion drawing out patterns, pointing out slightest alteration. The data feed is never-ending, the threshold to declare exceptional circumstances is low. Even when things are calm, the needle keeps going. It never stops.

The needle is too tightly wound. Slightest change in the norm causes a jump, draws multiple peaks, valleys, dead drops in between. Not much is needed for things to go haywire. A scent, a sound, a change in tone. 

Instagram | Facebook

Rowing boat - James

Schizoaffective disorder feels like you are standing up in a rowing boat, constantly trying to keep your condition balanced in terms of your emotions and staying stable. You might sometimes fall off into the water (have a setback), but you can always climb back in and keep moving forward.

It is a constant balancing act, but medication helps steady the ship, as does exercise, eating well, therapy, family/friends support and many other things.

Instagram | Facebook

Tabs on a laptop - Amy

I live with chronic physical health conditions, severe depression, anxiety, PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder), OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder) and autism. This ‘mix’ results in times of extreme distress, something I call ‘too many tabs’. 

I had a Sony Vaio desktop computer many moons ago. If potentially infected with a virus, or if a programme was seemingly ‘going wrong’, it would start randomly opening tabs.

One internet tab, then another… then another. All of them blank. Ironically, they were empty, when they represented anything but nothingness.

Slowly at first, more would open. Unwittingly, without my influence. Powerless to stop it, all of a sudden there would be a multitude opening at their own free will. Tabs upon tabs. Tens. Hundreds. Layering more and more on top of one another. A visually devastating overload. Thoughts fighting, priorities repelling. The simultaneous exploding and imploding of brain activity.

Tabs upon tabs. Until the crash. 

Instagram | Facebook