About Me

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I am a 34 year old woman diagnosed with bipolar disorder and generalised anxiety disorder. I have also recently been in a mother and baby psychiatric unit for postpartum psychosis.I tend to have mixed-manic episodes, hence the name of my blog. I am not a mental health professional. I am just writing from my own experiences with mental illness. If you wish to use any of my blog content please contact me at lababup@gmail.com. Visit me on twitter @lababup

Wednesday 19 November 2014

Mental health, sex drive and mood

I have always wanted to talk about my mental health and it’s relation to sex but I have had some misgivings. I am pretty much anonymous on my blog and on twitter but three people from real life know who I am. This makes it hard to talk about something so personal. In addition, you never know if you are going to stay anonymous forever. One day I may decide to shake off anonymity and I don’t want to feel like I would be embarrassing myself.

On the other hand, here I am about to talk about my sex life. After all, what’s the point in mental health blogging if I’m not open and honest about how my mental illness affects me?

When my partner and I were first together, like most couples, we had a great sex life. It was probably too good. I was high on life and felt all connected to nature. Obviously in hindsight, I was hypomanic. Yes, I was in a great new relationship but I felt overly optimistic and excitable. Everything felt so intense and beautiful. When you are in such a good mood, sex feels so much better.

What followed in our relationship were periods of lots of great sex interspersed with periods of no sex at all. My partner would find this difficult and thought it meant that I didn’t love him. Sometimes I worried about that too. I thought that if I didn’t want sex anymore, maybe I didn’t find him attractive. This made me question our whole relationship. The reality though was that my mental illness was getting in the way.

It was when I was depressed that I lost all my sex drive. I felt too tired, too weary of life. Everything was dark and miserable. I felt like my energy was being drained away from me. I couldn’t be bothered to dress, to wash, to face the world. Faced with these feelings, why would I have been interested in sex? I was desolate and you need to have some kind of life in you to have pleasurable sex. It wasn’t just that I wasn’t interested in having sex with my partner. I wasn’t interested in men at all. I didn’t even look at other men. My sex drive was non-existent.

I didn’t have sex when I was depressed and I had sex all the time when I felt high. However there was a tipping point I reached when I became so manic that my sex life was interrupted. When I got too manic, my behaviour became bizarre. If I tried to initiate sex with my partner he would not oblige. He told me later that he felt scared by my behaviour. I was laughing too wildly, eyes bulging, stare unflinching. Sometimes it was hard for him because he missed the intimacy gained through sex but he didn’t want to take advantage of me.

I am at a point now that I have started to gain an intense interest in sex again. This has come along with an improved mood. The increase in sexual activity has really brought my partner and I closer together. It is lovely to feel that deep connection again. However I am scared of what this means for my illness. I want to believe that this is just normal and that it means that I am not depressed anymore. However, I fear that it could be a manic episode coming on. I feel like my thoughts are going quite fast and I seem to be laughing too easily, perhaps inappropriately sometimes.

Sex is something many people in relationships have fairly regularly and consistently. It is hard for both my partner and I to have such an erratic sexual routine. Mental illness (and medications used to treat mental illness) can really take its toll on sex drive and therefore can take its toll on relationships. I think that it’s important to talk to your partner and try and explain that it’s not to do with them, it’s to do with the illness. If they love you they should hopefully be understanding.

Tuesday 11 November 2014

Mental illness and my lost life in academia

I was never someone who had career ambitions really. In fact, when I was at school, I didn’t really even really consider what kind of job I would have in the future. However, there was one thing I knew: I wanted to learn everything I could about how the world worked. I was motivated by the dream of understanding the world. And I have to admit, I was also partially motivated by the feelings I got by being good at academic subjects. I wanted to do well in exams and feel like I had achieved something.  

As I worked through my degree, the drive to do well in the subjects I was interested in was overwhelming. I am a shy person and most people didn’t really believe in me. I can come across as not very serious and a bit distracted at times so I certainly don’t appear like someone who would be good at something academic. I wanted to prove people wrong and show them that first impressions are misleading. I started my PhD with a feeling of excitement. I had found something I could be recognised for. My self-esteem became tied up with this recognition.

When I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and generalised anxiety disorder, my world changed. Suddenly I was incapable of working on my PhD. My brain was overwhelmed with energy and I was highly agitated. I was experiencing a bipolar mixed state and my anxiety levels were sky high. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t read and I couldn’t write either. That was 3 years ago. I have never recovered.

My ambition to finish my PhD now looks increasingly unlikely. This realisation has been devastating to me. My self-esteem has been tied up with what I can achieve academically and suddenly this has been taken away from me. My whole sense of self has become eroded. Now I am totally adrift and don’t know what to do with myself. 

Each day has been filled with nothingness. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how I have spent the last few years. There have been many dog walks and also a lot of sitting. There have been trips to the shops for shoe laces and other such exciting objects. There has been a lot of tea and coffee drinking. When you don’t have any routine in your days you fill them with strange beverage drinking customs. I have developed a schedule of drinking times and have a multitude of options for different occasions. This is how I survive through the days.

My academic life had become a huge part of who I am. Mental illness has taken that away from me. I was wrong to let academic achievement define who I was but it was so easy to when I had such a vague sense of self to begin with. Everyone wants to be recognised for something. My mistake was getting too carried away with what people thought of me and letting it rule my life.

Monday 27 October 2014

Navigating public spaces

I managed to achieve something this weekend: I went to the pub with my partner in the evening. I usually feel pretty safe with him, but I don’t feel safe in public spaces. They are too unpredictable and people can interact with you at any time. Also, I always fear that I may have a panic attack in public. It would be so embarrassing and I would have nowhere to escape to. 

The thing about public spaces is that they are not always as scary as they seem. Despite my fear, I am on some level aware of this. People usually ignore you and you can just get on with things without being ridiculed or judged. Panic attacks can happen but it isn’t something to be worried about every second of the day.
The trouble is that occasionally something horrible happens in a public space and it makes you realise just how vulnerable you really are.

I was sitting down in the pub, twiddling my thumbs whilst my partner went to buy more drinks. I was keeping myself busy by chewing on my straw and poking the ice cubes with it. I was looking around the room and noticed a table of really beefy, rowdy men. I overheard some pretty horrible and graphic conversation about their preferred body parts on a woman. One of them then noticed me and started the following conversation:

Man: ‘You liked listening to that didn’t you.’ [laughter. Group of men turn round to stare]
Me: ‘I may have overheard a bit’ [nervous laughter, elbows on table in front of me]  
‘Haha, look she’s covering up her tits. Doesn’t want us to look at them. Come on show us what you’ve got’ [Laughter all round the table]

I am not sure where the conversation ran exactly after that. I was so nervous at being spoken to in that way. They continued on with their 'flirtatious banter’ and said a number of crude things about me which made me extremely uncomfortable. They wanted me to join them at their table despite the fact that I said I was with someone. At one point, one of them came over and put his hands on the table, looming over me. I felt very intimidated.

I should have responded but I am ashamed to say that I was too scared. The thing is, I don’t think they were keen to take no for an answer. I don’t think what they were doing was even about flirting. I think that they were enjoying intimidating a woman. They loved every second of seeing a woman on her own, vulnerable and placid. This was all about power rather than any kind of flirtatious connection. This was about looking good to other men and displaying dominance.

As someone with a mental health problem, I feel vulnerable to this kind of attack; I may not have coped as well as someone without a mental health problem with a social interaction. However, any woman would have felt intimidated. No, it is not complimentary to a woman to tell her she is attractive in whatever rude way you like. Women are allowed to exist in public spaces and should be able to do so without being forced to engage with strangers in this kind of way. I was trapped in a place where I should have been allowed to sit in peace. They knew I was trapped and they took advantage of this.
I go through the days hanging out with family and friends who all care about me and don’t intimidate or judge me. Sometimes you forget about the fact that you are vulnerable to attack by other people. I have noticed casual sexism all around but I forgot that, for many people out there, women are to be aggressively kept in their place.
As for what all this means for my mental health, let’s just say that I won’t feel so safe walking around in public spaces anymore. I have seen how quickly someone can spot your vulnerability and exploit it.

Tuesday 9 September 2014

Mental illness, unemployment and my eroded self-confidence

My sister has just been offered a new job. I am really pleased for her, really I am. It’s just that this has brought home all sorts of emotions about how unfulfilled and unhappy my life has become. I have been crushed under the weight of having a mental illness and it is showing few signs of improvement.

I have been struggling with anxiety for years but it is only in the last six months that the anxiety has become severe and I have been diagnosed with general anxiety and panic disorder. I never realised how awful having an anxiety disorder could be. It can cause such unbearable physical sensations. Often I feel like someone has wrapped their hands around my throat and is choking me; I can’t breathe and my lungs are collapsing. I feel like I am going to die all the time. I wake up in the middle of the night and bolt upright, gasping for breath.

These physical sensations are horrible and it leads to me avoiding doing anything which may trigger it further. I avoid going out to see friends because I get anxious socialising. I don’t go anywhere without my partner or a family member in case I have a panic attack. I won’t go to the cinema or travel on public transport because they are enclosed spaces where I won’t be able to escape.

Having this level of anxiety makes it impossible to work. I was studying for a PhD but I haven’t been able to study for over a year now. I don’t know if I will ever be able to go back. I was brought up in a very education focused family and they see study as really important. They were really proud when I was working for my PhD. Now I have lost that, I feel adrift. I haven’t got anything to focus on or anything to feel proud of.

You can’t help but compare yourself to those around you, particularly a sibling that has grown up in the same environment as you but has managed to achieve a whole lot more. I compare myself to others all the time. I know that this is a path to anxiety and unhappiness but I can’t seem to stop myself. I tell others to be kind to themselves and see the positives but I don’t extend this same reasoning to myself.

Not many people realise how important something like work or study is to your feeling of self-worth. Most people work all their lives and don’t particularly enjoy it. Many people really hate their jobs and have an awful time in the workplace. Work isn’t often that pleasurable but the alternative isn’t that great either. In the society we live in, your worth is often determined by your work. This is obviously wrong. People are worthy because of who they are, not what they do. Even though I know this intellectually, emotionally I still feel tied down to the idea that I am worthless because I don’t work or study.

It doesn’t help when I read all the ‘scrounger’ headlines in the news. People who don’t work are vilified by the media. If you are disabled, unemployed or elderly you are often seen as a burden on everyone else. These people are viewed as a drain on the ‘the taxpayer’. The idea that you are only worth something if you work is shoved down our throats all the time. Even though I realise that this is obviously wrong and unfair, I still feel the weight of society’s expectations and I suffer with guilt and shame because of it.

It is strange because I would never ever think of anyone else as less worthy for not being able to work. If someone was in my position, I would tell them how it is not their fault that they are ill. I would tell them that mental or physical illness can strike anyone and it is only right and fair that we support those people in any way we can. Everyone deserves understanding and compassion.

There are many other things in life that aren’t to do with work that give our lives meaning. Our relationships with people are important and are what we should be focusing on. Just because I don’t work doesn’t mean that my life has no meaning or purpose. I just have to keep telling myself that and reminding myself that I am just as good as everyone else and I am lucky to have many good relationships in my life.

Tuesday 10 June 2014

Is mental illness really so different from physical illness?

I have struggled for many years with mental illness. Although the symptoms can be horrible, often the worst part is the fact that other people judge you for having a mental health condition. Sometimes I feel like it is something that I should be able to control and other people often share this sentiment. We have all heard of phrases such as ‘pull yourself together', 'get a grip' and ‘it’s all in the mind, you can fight it’. 

I think that at least some of the stigma surrounding mental illness comes from viewing it as distinctly different from physical illness; what goes on in the mind is seen to be separate from what goes on in the body. In this case, illnesses like cancer and diabetes are strictly physical and illnesses like anxiety, depression and bipolar disorder are strictly mental.

This kind of thinking may lead to stigma in two ways. First, if mental illness is viewed as something which is all in the mind, people see it as less tangible and view it as somehow less real than physical illness. Of course, anyone who has suffered from mental illness has experienced just how real and painful these conditions can be. 

Second, the view that mental illness is distinctly different from physical illness may lead to the view that mental illness is within a person’s control. If it is ‘all in the mind’, the idea is that we can change how we are thinking and feeling; unlike physical illness, we have a choice whether or not to succumb to mental illness. Of course if we have a choice, this is like saying that it is our fault for being ill: choice leads to blame.

I think that there is something wrong with this way of viewing mental illness as distinctly different to physical illness. All human activity is psycho-physical. The body and the mind are interwoven and linked; they affect each other. In which case, there is no sharp divide between mental and physical illness. 

It is clear that our mental health is affected by our physical health. For example, when we are in pain from a physical injury or illness, our mood, energy levels and feelings of anxiety are all affected. Alternatively, if we do something pleasurable with our bodies like exercise (pleasurable for some, though not for me!) or have sex, our mood is lifted and we experience feelings of well-being.

Physical illnesses such as cancer and diabetes may affect our moods and therefore impinge upon our mental health. What about mental illnesses? Many of those who suffer with mental illness will realise that mental health conditions affect the body in many ways. I have had experience with general anxiety disorder, panic disorder and bipolar disorder. Like many others, my experience of these conditions is both mental and physical.

This is most obvious when I have a panic attack. My whole body goes on high alert, I have a huge adrenalin rush and I feel all the bodily symptoms of this surge in tension: my breathing becomes shallow, my chest becomes tight, I feel nauseous, I feel faint, I shake, I get hot and start to sweat and I feel weak at the knees. A panic attack is a thoroughly physical experience. 

Like anxiety, depression is also experienced both physically and mentally. When I am ill, my whole body feels exhausted, drained and heavy. Sometimes my vision goes strange and everything looks dulled. My appetite changes and I get digestive problems too. My body longs for sleep and I have the urge to hibernate. Opposite to depression is mania. When I am manic my body speeds up. I feel shaky, energetic and full of beans. My body is alert and ready to go. 

I think it should be clear that mental illness, like any other illness, is experienced both mentally and physically. Therefore there is no sharp divide between mental illness and physical illness. Like I said before, all human activity is psycho-physical. Acknowledging this may go some way in removing the idea that we have a choice about whether or not we succumb to mental illness.

An illness is something that goes wrong with the body, which includes the brain of course. Both mental and physical illness should be considered to be on a par with each other. They both affect the body and mind and lead to great pain.  We have no more choice over whether we suffer with mental illness than we do with physical illness. There are always things we can do to try and cope with and manage illness, like exercise, diet and therapy. However, we can’t just snap our fingers and make ourselves well again. 


Of course all this should have been obvious from the start. Who would choose to have a mental illness? Why would someone decide that they will continue on suffering? Surely if it was as simple as pulling oneself together or getting a grip, then the millions of people suffering around the world would be cured by now. No one would choose to experience the painful mental and physical symptoms of these illnesses rather than trying whatever they can to get well again. 

Friday 23 May 2014

Is life expectancy all that matters when we treat those with mental health problems?

Today I saw an article with the following title: ‘Mental illness can reduce life expectancy more than smoking’. You can find the article here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-oxfordshire-27518408. It is based around research done by scientists in the Psychiatry Department at Oxford. Their research found that the life expectancy of someone with, say, bipolar was between 9 and 20 years less than average. People with other mental illnesses also had significantly lower life expectancies. I found these statistics quite shocking.

So what is the reason behind these lower life expectancies? The article cites suicide and risky behaviours associated with mental illness as contributing factors. Other possibilities mentioned in similar articles include physical illness overlooked by professionals, side effects from medication and an increased chance of developing cardiovascular problems and diabetes. All of these factors are worrying. 

I have had experience with one of these problems recently: I have found that I have not been taken seriously by doctors when complaining of physical symptoms. Any symptom I have had has been dismissed as being caused by anxiety or bipolar or a side effect of the medication I am on. I have even had bizarre symptoms being dismissed, like a mild finger deformity I have recently developed. It is easy to see how serious physical illness can be missed in a patient with mental illness. The reality is that people with mental health problems are just as likely as anyone else to suffer from physical illness, perhaps even more so. Doctors need to be more aware of this.

I think that many people will be surprised by how much lower life expectancies are for people with mental health problems. Perhaps it will cause some people to take mental health problems more seriously, which is a good thing. When people read about something tangible, like a reduced life expectancy, they may be moved to some sort of action to prevent this.

However, there is a danger of only taking mental health conditions seriously when they cause a reduced life expectancy. Early death isn’t the only way sufferers are affected by a mental health problem. Mental illness causes intense suffering whilst people are still alive! Every day millions of people around the world struggle with illnesses like bipolar, depression, anxiety, anorexia, OCD, borderline personality disorder and schizophrenia. Many of them will not die young or commit suicide but their suffering and disability is no less real. It is only less tangible to the public. There are no ways to properly measure this suffering but the sheer number of people with these conditions gives some indication of the extent of the problem.

Yes, we need to tackle the reduced life expectancy of those with mental illness. However, we need to be aware that people can also be severely disabled by mental health conditions. Their social life, potential for work and ability to lead a fulfilling life are all compromised. We must work on helping those with mental health problems because we care about their quality of life as well as their reduced life expectancy. We must help people because it is the humane thing to do. 

Wednesday 21 May 2014

Review of Rachel Kelly's 'Black Rainbow'

Black rainbow is the heart-breaking story of a woman who seemed to have everything until she was hit by two severe depressive episodes. In her memoir, Rachel Kelly talks of her experience of depression and the mechanisms she used to cope through her illness. In particular she emphasises the healing words of poetry.

Rachel Kelly clearly and honestly describes what depression feels like. She talks of the extreme anxiety, the negative thoughts that whirl round the mind and the complete loss of will to do anything other than lie in bed. She rather beautifully describes depression as a black rainbow; all the colour becomes drained from your existence. I really felt for her when I read her account. I have had depressive episodes before but manage to block out the memories of them quite effectively. Reading the book reminded me of the struggle I have been through. 

Importantly, Rachel Kelly emphasises the sheer physicality of depression. Depression can make you feel like your body is falling apart. You can’t move, sleep or eat properly. You may have all sorts of aches and pains. Every small task such as showering, dressing and even going to the toilet is hugely challenging. Rachel Kelly describes this physical agony of depression perfectly. She correctly points out that the mind and the body are linked: that all human activity is psycho-physical. When you are depressed, the body suffers too. People who haven’t experienced depression should be interested to learn about the way the body suffers along with the mind.

Many people who have had depression will relate to the experiences she had with other people during her illness. She relied heavily on others during her depressive episodes, particularly on her husband and mother who were incredibly supportive. However, not everyone was as tolerant. The negative reaction that some people had to her depression was heartbreakingly familiar. Some people mistakenly believed that because she was usually a cheerful person she couldn’t possibly suffer with depression. Others didn’t believe that depression was a real illness and thought it was something she should just pull herself out of. Sufferers of depression will be all too familiar with these kinds of comments.

These negative reactions to depression feed in to the feelings of guilt and shame which many of those with mental illness suffer from. Rachel Kelly talks movingly about her own struggles with these kinds of feelings. At several places in the book she expresses her guilt at being depressed when she has such loving parents, husband and children. She feels like she should be able to control her depression. These are common kinds of thoughts among those who have suffered with mental illness. Of course depression can affect anyone. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you do and where you are from. 

Rachel Kelly describes in detail her journey through a bumpy recovery; every time she would get a little better from each depressive episode, she would then have another bad day. Nonetheless there were shafts of optimism and things gradually improved. She vividly describes the feelings of coming out of depression where the black clouds covering the rainbow gradually disperse. Suddenly colour comes back to your life and you start appreciating everything again. I really enjoyed her use of this metaphor and thought it provided a nice description of both illness and recovery.

Something that some readers won’t feel like they can relate to are her experiences with mental health professionals. Rachel Kelly received a lot of help from her psychiatrist and from therapists, which sounds like they were seen privately. Due to constraints on the NHS, many people will not have received such frequent intervention. This is not to dismiss the wonderful job that many mental health professionals do. It’s just that there isn’t enough funding to provide the kind of care required.  Like many others, I have been on long waiting lists to see people and don’t always get as much attention as I need.

Rachel Kelly’s main solace during her two severe depressive episodes was poetry. The book title ‘Black Rainbow: How words healed me – my journey through depression’ is a bit misleading as it may suggest that poetry cured her depression. In fact, in the book she doesn’t push poetry as a miracle cure. Rather poetry provides words you can cling on to when at your lowest point. She includes in the book many of the poems which provided her with much needed comfort. These may prove useful to many who can’t find the words to express their pain but feel like they relate to the words in the poems. Of course some people won’t find poetry comforting in their times of need.  Personally, I don’t usually find poetry particularly helpful. Like others, I may find solace in, say, music and art rather than poetry: something that Rachel Kelly herself acknowledges. 

She suggests a large number of other techniques you can use to try and protect yourself from getting ill again. For example, breathing exercises, good diet, supplements, physical activity and therapy.  All of these should hopefully prove useful to readers who wish to maintain good mental health. However, it is difficult to say which technique will work for which person. Rachel Kelly is careful not to outrightly reject any one method of treating mental health like, say, medication. She sensibly leaves the options open and gives advice on the many diverse ways you can try to control your illness. I would have perhaps liked to hear more about her journey through different medications.

There were so many things in Rachel Kelly’s book that I could relate to: the descriptions of what depression feels like, the guilt sufferers experience, the way you have to become selfish to survive, the weariness of battling the illness every day, the heavy reliance on family and the pressure to not appear ill in front of certain people. Rachel Kelly has produced a beautifully and eloquently written memoir full of honest and relatable experiences. This book will be helpful to both those who relate to her experiences and those who want to understand more about how depression feels. She offers plenty of advice on how to cope with such a devastating illness which both sufferers and carers will find useful. Rachel Kelly should be commended on sharing her very personal story. 

Thursday 8 May 2014

Scared of the psychiatrist

Today was the day that I always dread: the day of a psychiatrist appointment. I know I should feel really happy that I am getting seen by someone there to help me. I am lucky enough to have a really great psychiatrist that listens to what I say and takes me seriously. I am grateful, I really am. But, as usual, I am also full of worries about the appointment.

Will I be able to get across what has been happening to me? This is a big concern. I have a tendency to forget all the really bad stuff because it was so awful I have half erased it from my mind. I have to look back at my diary entries to work out how I was feeling and what episode I was having. Reading back through some of my behaviours is really distressing. I like to think that I am a good person, but sometimes I haven’t acted in the best way. I hurt the people closest to me when I am ill and that is not okay. They deserve better.

Even when I have read through my diary and identified the episodes, it is really hard to explain to a psychiatrist the sheer enormity and horror of what has happened. Each time I have a manic, depressed or anxious episode, I feel like another layer of my personality has been soldered off. The episodes are so painful, so sudden and so disconcerting that I feel like I lose a little of myself each time. I know that I used to be this enthusiastic but stable person with a strong sense of self. Now I just feel lost. I'm unsure of who I am, how I have changed and what I want from life. I can feel myself slide further and further away under the weight of the illness. The thought that I might lose myself completely is with me all the time.

Another worry I have is that I will come across too ill or not ill enough. I don't want them to get the wrong idea that I am completely fine because I am acting fine. I also don't want to tell them some of the more embarrassing stuff in case they think I am much more ill than I am. Yes it is hard to tell even a psychiatrist about why you feel the need to slice up your body, rock back and forth in the foetal position and make strange animal noises. I don't want to be hospitalised under any circumstances. 

My next worry is so petty and ridiculous that I feel silly even putting it down in writing. The thing Is that I really want my psychiatrist to like me. I want everybody to like me really. I always have done. I admit it. I am a people pleaser through and through. It’s lucky that I have some very strong opinions on matters moral and political. If I didn’t, I would probably abandon them all under the desire to please those around me. Shameful I know.

I want my psychiatrist to like me so that I feel affirmed as a person. I want them to like me so they will care about me and, in doing so, will be better placed in trying to treat me. Most of all, I want them to like me because I like them and have opened up to them. I don’t want to feel rejected. Of course, none of this should matter. They are expecting to see unwell people that need treatment and as professionals they should treat you the same whether or not they like you. 

But I can’t stop caring! What makes this all the more ridiculous is that in my bid to be liked I often come across as this really well adjusted, lively person. Obviously there are times when I am too ill to pretend, but I have to be pretty damn sick for that to happen. I always wear the mask. It’s automatic. I am not doing myself any favours by pretending but there you go.

On a related note, I feel panicked about seeing the psychiatrist in case I run out of stuff to say. I am not that talkative these days since I have been more anxious. I worry that it will take two minutes to say what I can think of and then there will be silence. I won’t know what to say or how to say it. I could divulge every single feeling I have had over the past few months but I tend to summarise it all in a paragraph. It is not really my place to keep the conversation going, but (like in all social situations) I fear the awkward silence.

My final worry, which is more of a reasonable one I think, is that there will come a point when there is nothing me they can do for me. I have tried so many medications now: a number of antidepressants, anticonvulsants and antipsychotics. They all have their side effects which are hard to stomach. There has been no miracle cure and I am not even sure if any of them have worked. I still have episodes of illness regularly. At least they get me to sleep which is obviously helpful. The only thing left for me to try now is lithium. If that doesn’t work there are no other medications. I don’t know what my psychiatrist would do then. They can’t exactly admit to you that they are out of options. But I have done my research. There is nothing else left. There is only so much they can do.

On a more positive note, the appointment went okay despite all my worries. My psychiatrist has put me on pregabalin for the panic disorder and wants to put me on lithium next time I see them. I will be seeing them in a month’s time to discuss going on lithium. Now I have a new thing to worry about for next time: should I go on lithium? Should I risk the side effects, have to deal with all the blood tests and worry about the effect it might have on a baby if I become pregnant?

Wednesday 23 April 2014

Yes you can be mentally ill, on benefits and go on holiday!

I think that there is a huge problem with how the mainstream media portray people with mental illness, people on benefits and people that fall in to both categories.

On this topic, the BBC have just published an article with the following headline: ‘Agoraphobic benefits cheat Tracy Johnson jailed for year’. Apparently Tracy Johnson claimed to have a number of mental health conditions. These included anxiety, depression, PTSD, hallucinations and agoraphobia. However, she was found to be working as a tour guide in South America. She was charged with falsely claiming £48000 in benefits. It was argued that she could not possibly be agoraphobic, or suffering from the conditions she said she suffered from, if she was able to travel the world. You can read the article at the following link: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-wales-27130728

There are a few things I want to say about this case and the way it has been reported. At the outset I want to make clear that I do not know if the correct verdict was reached; I do not know all the details of the case. Ms Johnson very well may have been fraudulently claiming benefits. However, there are a few problems I have with the coverage of this case and the way the article, the judge and the prosecutor have portrayed people more generally with mental illness who depend on benefits.

First of all, the article refers to Tracy Johnson living a “champagne lifestyle” because she has managed to travel to some holiday locations. There are two problems I have with this. First of all it implies that people are able to sustain elaborate lifestyles on benefits alone. This idea is misguided. The benefits system really isn’t as generous as many seem to think. It is hard enough to qualify for any incapacity benefits in the first place. The way that the Work Capability Assessments are set up makes it very hard for people with mental health problems to be found as unfit for work. If you do qualify the money isn’t enough to live a life of luxury on. It is enough money that the government believes you can just about survive on. 

The second related problem I have with this use of the term “champagne lifestyle” is the idea that anyone who is able to travel must be incredibly wealthy. Of course this is not the case. People choose how to spend their money depending on their priorities and for many a holiday is an important part of life. A benefit claimant may choose to use money from their benefits to travel to take a break and recuperate. This does not suddenly make them wealthy or extravagant.

The prosecution implied that if you have a mental health problem and you are on benefits, you should not be able to travel. As Ms Johnson herself says: ‘I am entitled to a little break. I think I'm entitled to go and sit on a beach in Goa.’ Of course she is. As long as she is not fraudulently claiming benefits obviously. People are entitled to spend their money (earned or through benefits) on what they see fit. Again, as she herself says: ‘you can sit on a beach in Goa watching the sunset and still be in a pretty desperate state’. Just the fact of going on a holiday when you have a mental illness does not mean that you are fraudulently claiming those benefits. Mental health conditions affect different people in different ways.

At one point the article states that ‘Johnson, who has also written novels, had posted on Facebook: "I am one spoilt girl”’. I am not sure what the relevance of the fact that Ms Johnson has written novels is. The subtle message seems to be something like this: of course Ms Johnson could not suffer from mental health conditions. She writes! People who are mentally ill are obviously incapable of writing or of any activity for that matter. We just sit around in a daze staring at walls all day. Better to lock us all up and make sure we never take a foot outdoors. No writing or travelling for us. 

The prosecutor sums up his case by saying that: “Tracy Johnson was living the life that honest, decent, hard working taxpayers could only dream of. While workers were going out to do their daily grind, she was shopping in New York or having a few days in Madrid.” Those on benefits have heard this kind of rhetoric before. The ‘hard working taxpayer’ is once again held up as the paradigm of virtue compared to the scrounging person on benefits. The indication being that those on benefits should be bloody grateful for what they get. If they are not fraudsters they are still an ‘other’ to the decent taxpayer. They don’t deserve holidays or respect for that matter. The language and the message are divisive and cruel.

People with mental health problems often find themselves incapable of working. They are forced to rely on other people for help. However, that help doesn’t come for free. There is a huge stigma surrounding those on benefits and the government and the media often portray them as scroungers, burdens on the taxpayer and fraudulent liars. Regardless of whether or not Ms Johnson was fraudulently claiming benefits, the implication of many articles in the media is that this kind of fraudulence is widespread. However, the real estimated level of benefits fraud is said to be less than 1%. 

To have to deal with this kind of stigma on top of your mental health condition is exhausting and painful. Those with disabilities on benefits are people who deserve to be treated with kindness and respect, not distrust and derision.

Monday 14 April 2014

Do my symptoms mean I am going to die?

I have had a really tough time this week. It all started on Wednesday. I was going to bed and I noticed that  my right hand was in a strange claw like position. My ring finger and my little finger were all curled up which was weird. When I woke up the next day I noticed that both hands were slightly claw-like and my little and ring fingers were numb and weak. I had all these strange pins and needles sensations in my arms as well.

The trouble is that when you are feeling anxious already, any slight thing can trigger a major panic response. I thought: SHIT I am going to DIE. I thought it could be some strange neurological condition where I would eventually die a horrific painful death. 

Anyway, of course I spent hours on the internet researching what I was about to die from. Obviously all sorts of things came up. The one thing that fitted the most was cubital tunnel syndrome which is when the ulnar nerve in the arm gets trapped, often from spending too much time with your arms bent or leaning on your elbows (Oops, my obsessive use of the laptop may be to blame). I was slightly relieved at first that it was a minor condition. However I then identified all sorts of things that can be a risk factor for cubital tunnel syndrome: diabetes, hypothyroidism, multiple sclerosis and many more.

I soon started getting all sorts of other symptoms. My legs were going numb and I got pins and needles in them. I started getting dizzy and breathless. Suddenly I would feel this sensation in my neck like someone was throttling me and I would gasp for air. I thought that these were all signs of something much more serious. Because I thought I was dying, I had a full blown panic attack.

Since then I have remained in a constant state of anxiety. Anxiety doesn’t quite describe it. More like a constant state of PANIC. I keep hyperventilating and feeling like I am blacking out slightly for a second at a time.  I am convinced I am going to die even though as I write this I realise how irrational I am going to sound. 

There are so many physical problems that arise due to anxiety. I am absolutely sure that there was an original problem with my fingers but ever since I panicked over the whole thing, I don’t know which symptoms are ones to be worried about and which ones are down to anxiety. 

I am seeing a doctor on Thursday but it is not my usual doctor. I am scared that, like so many other doctors, they will put all of my symptoms down to anxiety and bipolar. When they see it on your medical records they jump to conclusions. No wonder so many people with bipolar seem to die young. Often symptoms of serious illness are missed because they are put down to the illness or the medication.

I wish I could tell which symptoms were caused by real physical problems rather than symptoms caused by anxiety. But I can’t. I just feel so pathetic and useless getting so worked up over something that is probably so minor. I feel an intense hatred towards myself. How ridiculous. People around the world are suffering from all sorts of serious illnesses and here I am worrying about weak, clawed fingers. 

It is almost like I had this anxiety building up inside of me already and it just took this slight trigger, the numbness in my fingers, to set me off in to panic mode. Sometimes I feel like I have anxiety just floating around in my brain and then something small happens and all my anxiety gets focused on that one thing. Sometimes it is social situations, sometimes things like flying in a plane, sometimes physical illness. 

Just writing this down makes me feel better and worse at the same time. I feel better as I realise how stupid I am being and I feel worse because I realise how stupid I am being! Right now I am just struggling to get through each anxiety ridden minute. I feel desperate. Diazepam is the only thing that helps but I can’t just live in a drug induced coma for weeks on end. I am so tired and just want to sleep where I can escape the anxiety for several glorious hours. 

It is ironic that just a few months ago I was experiencing suicidal ideation and yet now I am panicking about dying. I have often fantasised about the relief of mental pain through death. Now all I can think about is how I desperately want to live. Not like THIS though.


Monday 7 April 2014

Honesty or positivity?

I was looking through my blog posts today and thinking lots of negative things. Of course, there were the standard problems of mistaken spellings and bad grammar. What really bothered me though was the inaccurate way I may be coming across.

I try to be completely honest in my posts and open up about things I would never talk about in real life. I would never tell anyone who knew me IRL that I self-harm. I wouldn’t tell them about scary intrusive thoughts I have or any of my catatonic behaviours. These are all just too embarrassing for me and hard to admit to, even to myself.

I realised though that the way I was writing a few of my posts was not completely honest. I noticed that I was often ending my posts on some sort of concluding positive note. I guess I thought that people would be annoyed with a negative or abrupt ending. It’s like when you read a book and you feel really let down if there is not some kind of upbeat or fulfilling conclusion. Sometimes the whole time you spent reading the book seems like a waste of time if there is not a satisfying end.

I seem to have applied this to my blog writing. But real life is not like this. There is no settled ending to what I am experiencing with my mental illness. The story just keeps unfolding. Sometimes there is a positive outcome or message; maybe I have grown as a person or become more hardened to life. However, often there is no positive spin I can take on my experiences. Sometimes what happens is just a bit shit really, but I’m forced to keep going in the hope that things will get better. Sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t. 

You are stuck between a rock and a hard place when trying to blog, tweet or talk about your mental health condition. Some people will always be going through a tough time and will talk about their battles every day. This could be seen as honest and refreshing but some would view this as negative and draining. Alternatively some people will try and be really uplifting in an attempt to bring everyone up with them. This is a noble intention but some people will view it as dishonest about the daily struggle of living with mental illness
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Personally, I admire all people who talk about mental illness, whatever their take on it. However, I still can’t help but feel like a fraud when I try and send positive messages to others with mental illness. When I see someone struggle I just want to hug them and say something encouraging. I could say something like ‘I am sure you will feel better soon’. However, I know that things sometimes don’t improve; sometimes a mental illness is chronic. 

So do I help people with positive messages and feel like a fraud? Or do I go down the honest route and drag people down with me? 

Personally, I think that I should be honest about how harrowing the experience of mental illness can be. You can’t help people with positive messages if those messages are empty. Just talking honestly about your MH experiences can be helpful to some people. If they recognise the similarity of your experiences to their own, they feel less isolated and alone.

Importantly, I think that there are ways you can be honest in a positive way when you are trying to help someone. I don’t think that just being honest about your experience drags people down. However, being honest about your difficult experiences without listening to others may not be that useful. To help people, you need to not only tell your story but allow them to tell theirs. 

When they feel down, listen to them. You can offer positive advice, as long as it is truly meaningful. Just saying ‘things will be better tomorrow’ or ‘there is always a silver lining’ are not very helpful because you can’t possibly know these things. 

So what should you say? You can say that you hope they will feel better soon and that you are thinking of them. If appropriate, you can remind them of times they have not felt like this and point out that they may feel like this once again. Perhaps you can point out that some people have managed recovery or remission and so there may be hope for the future. Most importantly, you can just show that you and are there for them and they are not alone.

I think that honesty about mental illness is crucial in getting more awareness out there and in helping people feel less alone. However, positivity also has its place. As long as those positive messages are truly meaningful.

Sunday 30 March 2014

Mother's Day and World Bipolar Day

So everyone knows that it is Mother’s Day today. Apparently it’s also World Bipolar Day (who knew?). I thought that this would be a great time to write about my Mum and how she has helped me during times of my bipolar flare ups.Not everyone is lucky enough to have a supportive parent so I am really grateful.

My Mum has always been the strong one in my family. She holds everyone together. The rest of us always joke that her catchphrase is: ‘I just want everyone to be happy’. Her happiness seems to be completely tied up with how everyone else is in the family. It is very noble of her but also it worries me that she doesn’t look after herself enough.

It’s a shame that so many mothers put such little emphasis on themselves. Society expects them to be constantly selfless and maternal. Mother’s aren’t expected to be individuals with their own personalities, desires and needs. Of course they are just human like the rest of us. They deserve to be treated with respect every day of the year, not just Mother’s Day.

My Mum is a really interesting person. She is shy and introverted but at the same time full of personality. She is very logical and analytical and one of the most intelligent people I know. However, at the same time she manages to be completely daft and silly. She is one of a kind and deserves to be recognised for more than just her role as a carer.

Unfortunately my Mum has often ended up taking the carer role. She has always been there for me during times of crisis. When I was first having mental health problems as a teenager, I was fighting a lot with people in my family. I was irritable and depressed and taking it out on everyone. Within the family, it was my Mum who tried to keep the peace. She was the first to recognise that I was ill and not just being difficult. She was the one who pushed me to get help.

Over the last thirteen years of having mental health problems my Mum has been my main source of comfort. I am very thankful for the other people in my life who have also supported me but it is my Mum who manages to be the most patient.

When I am depressed she doesn’t get irritated but encourages to get up, get ready and exercise. She forces me on walks and makes me leave the house, even if it is just for a coffee. The rest of my family often get frustrated and down over my lethargy and low mood. This makes me feel really guilty. However my Mum almost always remains cheerful which helps bring my mood up, if only a little bit.

When I am manic, my partner and my Dad find it really difficult to deal with. I can completely understand why. I wouldn’t cope very well with someone running around the house, screaming and laughing and trying to play fight with me. It can be funny sometimes but often I am the only one laughing. Everyone around me is a bit creeped out! My Dad’s response is to get angry when gets matched with explosive rage on my part. My partner’s reaction is to get really sad and upset which doesn’t help. These are both natural reactions and so I don’t judge them for it. My Mum’s reaction is the most beneficial to me though. She tries to keep relaxed and just goes with the flow.

Mixed episodes are the hardest for everyone to deal with: the endless pacing around, the wailing, the psychomotor agitation, the screaming in terror, the paranoia, the desire to inflict violence on myself. I shudder to remember these things. My Mum sits with me as I pace around, just to make sure I am safe. She doesn’t try and stop my from moving or try and reason with me. She knows that these won’t help.

What my Mum does for me is amazing. She watches my moods closely, spends hours talking to me, often daily, and she organises my life to try and keep me in a routine. What is even more amazing is that she manages to keep on being her lovely self. She doesn’t let the bipolar drag her down, although it obviously affects her deeply.

I try to remember that she is not just my Mum and my carer. She is my friend and a really interesting person. I am grateful to have her in my life.