As Mental Health Awareness week draws to a close, I thought it
time again to write a little about how it is to navigate this world as a person
diagnosed as Bipolar. More appropriate timing than ever, we’ve been discussing psychosis
in class this week. I lose track of how much I’ve told you all by now, but my
episodes can infringe on becoming psychotic (psychosis is a
mental health problem that causes people to perceive or interpret things
differently from those around them, which might involve hallucinations or
delusions). I completely and utterly believed that I controlled the weather –
tears equaled rain, smiles equal sunshine. How bloody bizarre are our brains
that I ever thought I overruled the entire complexity of the WEATHER! For a
period of about three days I was so elated I couldn’t shake this notion, and as
I lay blissfully under the baking sun that March 2014 bought, I truly thought
it was I who had provided it.
Four years ago this week was my second admission to hospital (you can read about here, if you wish) which came with the loss of many things, some of
which I’m still coming to terms with. One of the things it feels like I lost, was
my identity as a fit, healthy, kinda-sporty girl. She was replaced ever so
quickly with an overweight, huffing puffing, struggling-to-get-fit-again girl. One
of the side effects of medication the medication I was put onto is weight gain –
and not just a few pounds, like an ‘I can no longer shop in Topshop’ kind of
weight gain. After I left hospital I ran every day to combat this side effect, I
was so determined it wouldn’t happen to me again after my spell in hospital
aged 16 where I ballooned from a size 12 to size 16 in pretty much in a month. It
may sound superficial, and you may think that I should have had more pressing issues
to worry about (controlling the weather, for instance) but not feeling at home
in your own body can have such detrimental effects on your self-esteem, self-worth
and ultimately your mental health. I stopped running two months after leaving
hospital, after one particularly drenched one where my mum kindly consoled me
and let me know that I didn’t have to run every day. The weight gain caught up
with me, as I’m sure it would always have even if I‘d continued running, and I’m
now trying to figure out what size I’m supposed to be, and be to peace with
that too.
Our brains are brilliant, and complicated, and sometimes completely erratic
and out of control. Be kind to those fighting to preserve their sanity – it’s
the strangest process losing touch with reality, and then being thrust back
into a society that isn’t catered for compassion. We can make changes in the
language we use, the way we interact with strangers and the way we go about our
communities. Let’s encourage each other, praise diversity and let people know
you are there to help them... or perhaps, that you need a little help. There is
no shame in that. I wish you all a happy weekend, sending lots of love and
compassion to you all. Try to be courageous, and always be kind xoxo
