Not An Exact Science

TW: this post is about mental illness and includes talk of medication, descriptions of psychosis and bipolar disorder.

 

Hello!

Back in January, I said I wanted to write on here more, so here is a piece on a topic something I have found to be increasingly inescapable at the moment: mental health. Such an interesting subject!

Recently, I’ve had quite a strange time with my mental health. Not bad, just strange. Without being explicit, I became exceedingly depressed for a fortnight towards the end of June which prompted me to trial quitting two of my medications. I know it’s never endorsed by medical professionals to stop taking your pills, but they clearly weren’t working. I felt like a fool for treating them so meticulously, taking them at the same time every day, making sure to never miss a dose, and still they weren’t working. So, to hell with them, I decided.

I didn’t know what to expect coming off of them. I knew I felt as depressed on them as I did without, so I was fully prepared for nothing to change. I was also prepared of a period of numbness; the kind that you experience when going through sudden withdrawal. Never could I have predicted a complete 180. Within a few days, I felt that beautiful pulsating feeling course through my blood that can only be provided by mania. The best way I can describe it is having a car engine accelerating within your bones. If it could be characterised, it would probably look like some Disney woodland sprite fluttering and floating euphorically while Carpenters’ “Top Of The World” plays on a loop. The track would then speed up gradually after each play before becoming entirely unlistenable and unintelligible. Or perhaps, more realistically, I’d be a jet plane breaking the sound barrier and zooming through the brightest blue sky you could imagine, never planning on landing. Truly magic stuff.

Now that we are in July, it’s Disability Pride Month. It exists to destigmatise and raise awareness about disabilities, as well as celebrating the individual. The annual commemoration began in the US in 1990 and eventually made its way over to the UK in 2015, and now in 2024, Disability Pride Month is now seen as a worldwide observation. July also marks the anniversary of my favourite actor’s death (Vivien Leigh, duh!) on the 7^th. If you didn’t know, Vivien Leigh suffered from bipolar disorder (or manic depression as it was known as back then) at a time when it was severely misunderstood. I have been revisiting her films recently, and as always, I’m just in absolute awe of her talent and tenacity. I have also been revisiting literature about her, namely Kendra Bean’s Vivien Leigh: An Intimate Portrait (2013) and Alexander Walker's Vivien: The Life of Vivien Leigh (1987). There is something so special about having someone you really look up to and admire, and being able to relate on a personal level to their emotions and behaviours. It just kills me that Vivien-and all other bipolar sufferers of that time- were not able to witness the huge progress in medication, therapies, and general better understanding that we have now, even though we do still have a long way to go. Both of these commemorations, along with the manic month I have been having, have caused me to think about my own mental illness and how I approach my symptoms and my treatments. I find it a little cringey when I speak to people about my bipolar disorder, which isn’t to say I don’t do it, but I am very aware of the stigma that is still attached, as well as the imagine it can conjure. It’s truly hard to describe how I feel sometimes if you haven’t experienced bipolar first-hand. It’s a shitty illness and even though I’ve been diagnosed for almost 2 years, I’m still learning to live with it. Trial and error.

As I said, going from two weeks of depression to being shot into a month-long manic episode was not on my bingo card. I’m not complaining, however, I’d rather feel like this than the alternative. As of the time I'm writing this, I’m sleeping 3-4 hours a night, I’m flying through my university dissertation (which I couldn’t start previously), I’m taking on creative projects and not flaking out on my plans (bare minimum, I know!), and I feel absolutely brilliant. Because of this, I really wasn’t interested in seeking help but, through a series of overdue conversations with mental health professionals, I’ve now been put back on medication. This isn’t something I’m ashamed of, more just scared of. I’m terrified of losing this beautiful streak and falling back into numbing normalcy, or even depression again. The main reason I’m being re-medicated is because of the psychotic symptoms I have been experiencing. Again, psychosis isn’t something I’m really ashamed of, but it isn’t something I’m necessarily a proud of. I’ve had psychosis since I was 15 and it only really becomes a problem in times of stress or, like now, mania and being off medication. Having to explain to a doctor all the weird stuff I’ve been seeing or hearing has been a most humbling experience, and I truly wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. This has lead me to get putting on weekly visits to the nurses, where they delicately adjust my new meds to try and get the balance right, but as Diana Goodman (from Next To Normal) says, "it's not a very exact science, is it?"

As a way to cope with the sudden change and the terrifying prospect of falling away from it, I’ve found myself surrounded with reading material from places like Bipolar UK and Mind, as well as listening to the Next To Normal musical soundtrack on repeat. At the moment, bipolar disorder is all I can think about or read about, or even write about. My dissertation for my MA is about the illness as well. You might decide that it’s bordering on an obsession, but for now being fully consumed makes me less lonely and more acceptable. To read how people I look up to (namely Vivien Leigh, Patty Duke, and Carrie Fisher) experienced the same things I’m experiencing, and how they coped in the same ways as I do currently is so validating. Mental illness still has a huge stigma attached, especially bipolar disorder and psychosis, but there has been a huge shift over the last 50-or-so years. I can only hope that in another 50 years, we'll be in a better place again.

So why am I rambling? Well, I wanted to write a marker for my highs so when I eventually hit my low, I can look at this and remember that it is possible to feel okay again. I also wanted to offer a first-hand perspective on these illnesses and raise a little more awareness/possibly destigmatise them in some small way, so thank you for sticking to the end if you made it this far! 

Happy Disability Pride Month! Remember to take care of yourself <3