I have an inkling this is a blog I’ve done before, but at risk of repeating myself, this was originally intended to be a mental health blog. And although I ongoing touch on my mental health, it isn’t my sole focus any longer. But I do tend to get thinking on World Bipolar Day. I also noticed on my Facebook memories this week that it’s nine years since I was diagnosed. And I was so scared.

When I worked in mental health care, my experience of people with bipolar was oftentimes alarming. I found people with mania quite frightening, I won’t lie. I thought their behaviours were disturbing at times. I was young.

When I suffered severe depression in my twenties, I came across numerous psychiatrists and one very frustrated GP who would repeatedly ask me about symptoms of mania (not in so many words). If I ever believed they were suggesting I might experience elevated moods in addition to depression, I would become quite agitated, demanding, “You calling me manic? Don’t call me manic! I don’t go manic! Dr P says I don’t go manic!” Dr P was my consultant psychiatrist at the time. I think the frustrated GP absolutely knew the truth, but it was not his call to challenge the shrink.

But when I wasn’t acutely unwell with depressive mood, I didn’t ever realise my up moods were actually hypomania. I knew amongst my depression I would have these kind of crazy, confident, bouncy times, and I didn’t know that was hypomania either. I wasn’t in denial as such, I just didn’t realise. But I was very adverse to being diagnosed bipolar, because frankly, I was scared.

After more severe depression in my forties, being sectioned under the mental health act, and another hospital stay, I found myself revisiting the idea of whether I could possibly have bipolar. I remember one evening on the ward, sitting on the floor of the patients’ computer room, with two other ladies, both bipolar, both manic, and we were messing around, giggling and being stupid and entering into some friendly, silly banter with a young guy who was using the computer. The laughing got so raucous at times, a nurse would pop in periodically and ask what was going on. I remember replying, “It’s not us, it’s Paul!” (the guy at the computer) each time. Thankfully he saw the funny side. We found it hilarious.

I also struggled to sleep during that hospital stay. I would sit on my bed until around 3am each morning. My thoughts refused to slow down and eventually I would crash in a heap exhausted were I sat. Typical hypomania.

When I came home, I had the most amazing psych nurse in the community. If you’ve ever met or seen pictures of my plushie penguin Ian, he was named after my CPN Ian. He was a straight talking Yorkshireman who pulled no punches. I told him about the sleepless nights, the evening in the computer room, and how I would find myself talking really fast in conversation, but even then it felt like my speech still couldn’t keep up with my brain. He also realised the antidepressant my then GP had prescribed can cause mania in people with bipolar. I think at this point he and I both realised that’s what I had. He arranged an urgent psychiatrist appointment and meds review. I was inevitably diagnosed with bipolar type 2 and prescribed a mood stabiliser.

A lot of the talk this World Bipolar Day is the fact that on average it takes 9.5 years to be diagnosed with bipolar. I was 44 when diagnosed. When I thought things through I realised I actually had had my first hypomanic episode when I was 14 or 15, making my diagnosis time thirty years!

Receiving my diagnosis was both scary and a relief. Sadly the first mood stabiliser didn’t work well for me at all and had horrible side effects. The hypersexuality I experienced at that time caused me to take unbelievable risks, and I have no doubt was a massive factor in my being assaulted in 2016. The most frightening symptom of hypomania is the poor judgement. The feeling that nothing can harm you. It can, and for me, it did.

Starting lithium was probably the best thing I could have done for my health. It’s not a nice drug, toxicity can be extremely serious, and you need regular blood tests. It can affect liver, kidney and thyroid function, but thankfully so far I’ve had no problems. It certainly keeps my mood pretty much stabilised. The lows I sometimes experience now are nothing like the depths of hell I’ve visited previously. And I don’t go high. Sometimes if I’m stressed or overtired I notice like a micro-high, more like a busyness and some racing thoughts, but nothing scary.

My concerns for the future always remain the same; that either lithium will stop working for me, or I will have to cease taking it for some reason. I understand bipolar is harder to manage as you get older, and potentially not being stabilised again at some point frightens me. I’m scared that I may not be well enough to advocate for myself. And I’m concerned that the other physical health problems linked to bipolar such as diabetes and heart disease will catch up with me.

I did take encouragement from seeing bipolar disorder being discussed frankly on mainstream TV today. So much more awareness is still needed. And resources. Until our government make mental health care more of a priority I fear little will change, but today at least, has highlighted the great work that mental health charities are doing to represent people with bipolar. People like me.