Posted in Advocacy, Managing Mental Health, Mental Health, Personal Growth

Journey Through Panic Attacks

The first time I experienced a panic attack I was 11 years old. I had come home early from school that day with a headache and some other physical symptoms I now know were anxiety, and I had gone upstairs to have a nap before dinner. My mum came to wake me up when it was time to eat, but I must have been in the wrong phase of my sleep cycle because I awoke disoriented, thinking it was the morning. We’ve all been there when we wake up not quite sure what’s going on. So I thought it was the morning, and when my mum told me it was time to eat I responded asking about breakfast. There was some confused back and forth with my mum trying to convince me it was in fact dinner time, and still the day before, and I suddenly spiralled into my first panic attack. I don’t remember a whole lot of the details while it was happening, but I do remember how terrifying it was. I remember feeling like I couldn’t breathe; I simply could not get the air into my lungs. I felt faint, and sick, I thought my legs couldn’t hold me up. I don’t know if I had the thought that can come alongside panic attacks where you think you’re going to die, but I knew something was very, very wrong; I definitely thought I was going to faint. Somehow I ended up at the bottom of the stairs, gasping for air and sipping water out of a bottle cap (I think that was the only way I could manage to do it?) as it subsided, and I can still recall the exhaustion after that first one and how foreign it felt. My mum suggested it had been a panic attack, and at that point I didn’t know what that meant. I had no idea they would become such a huge part of my life. 

I have had many panic attacks since this day. I’ve also had some anxiety attacks, which are more prolonged and less intense, and I experience sensory overload too as an autistic young person. Sometimes sensory overload meltdowns and panic attacks can be hard for me to distinguish, and sometimes they overlap or morph into the other, but it’s helpful sometimes to figure out which is which as it can aid in the recovery process both long and short term – for example in a panic attack changing my jumper probably isn’t going to help and may not even be a possibility, but with sensory overload changing the material of my clothing or my environment may help it to subside or avoid it altogether when I feel it building. This year I have felt the strongest mentally overall that I have in a very long time, but I still have panic attacks. Some months I have none; others I have many. For example in May I had seven.

 It’s important to note that while I find the label panic attacks useful, it is a pathologised word. That means there is a certain medical connotation attached to it. However panic attacks are a total overload of our nervous systems; an explosion of tension and anxiety. We cannot talk about expressions of mental distress without recognising that they are often responses to a traumatic and stressful world, whether immediate results of a specific trigger or a build up over time. For example in May I was dealing with exam stress, difficult atmospheres at home, grief for my safe place, and more time on my hands. These all contributed to my spike in panic attacks I have no doubt. Other times I may make it to the other side of a stressful event and then experience panic attacks, almost like a hangover of emotions. It’s not an individual failure, but an understandable reaction to a difficult world. You are not broken for experiencing anxiety. You are not shameful for having panic attacks. 

I am a firm believer that to appreciate life fully we need to be able to laugh, even at the bad stuff. There are certain events surrounding some of my panic attacks that I find kind of hilarious looking back on and that helps me to deal with any embarrassment or regret surrounding them I may have. For example, I have terrible stage fright (despite being an actress, ironic I know). Before the final dress rehearsal for Bugsy Malone – my first show in a proper theatre – I had a panic attack in the wings. I was crouched behind a prop box in heels I could barely walk in and my tailored sparkly dress writhing my legs in pain and sobbing without air. It was a pretty desperate moment, though the juxtaposition itself is amusing looking back. The next thing I remember is a stagehand saying into their walkie talkie ‘can someone please come and remove the fire hazard from the wings?’. I was the fire hazard because I couldn’t move myself out of the way, and I was carried back to my dressing room by my director. Talk about a diva moment. Looking back I cannot help but laugh at the absurdity of the experience. 

That particular panic attack also showed me how loving people can be. I hope that someday everyone experiencing mental health issues gets to experience the pure love and support that I did that day. I had to go on stage just after recovering to do a mic check. I was so exhausted – my bones were heavy; the exhaustion of a panic attack travels to your core and can make you feel like your body isn’t your own – so all I could do was stand centre stage. The rest of the cast sat in the audience as I weakly sang ‘My Name is Tallulah’. Half way through the song I raised my eyes and saw that they were all swaying along, waving their hands in the air; at the end of the song they stood up and cheered and called out encouragement. It was beautiful. No one judged, no one whispered or pointed. They rallied and supported me. That’s what we all deserve. 

Another amusing panic memory was when I fell on my face in the mud on a rainy day trying to escape prying eyes and instead drawing them all to me; again, it wasn’t as embarrassing or well remembered as I feared it would be. Or when my teacher gave me their scarf to wrap around me and help me feel safer and I immediately snotted into it – I got to keep that for a while rather than immediately returning it. Or the time I went to get help while having a panic attack but there was already a girl in the office having a panic attack and it became like a queue for a very strange and unwanted product.

 I’ve been alone on bathroom floors, writhed my legs, hit my chest, backed myself into literal corners to try and feel a bit safer, thought I was going to die, taken off most of my clothes because I thought my skin was going to burn, and just general cried and made weird sounds while trying to breathe. Point of all of this is – I survived. And each one has become a little easier to recover from. The worst a panic attack will do is make you pass out; it cannot kill you. Remember that – it cannot kill you. If you are having one, it is horrible and tiring and painful, but you are safe. And if you are with someone experiencing one it’s ok to remind them of that; if you can recognise what it is and call it what it is. Tell them it’s a panic attack and that they are safe. Often it helps not to try and suppress it either but rather to ride it out, let it be. Because they are not the end of the world, but they are super scary and it’s ok to recognise that too. 

I hope that maybe reading this has helped someone feel a little less alone in their experience. If you’d like a more in depth guide on how I deal with my panic attacks let me know in the comments below! Sending love and support to you all today! Xx

Posted in Happy Notes, Managing Mental Health, Mental Health, Personal Growth

An Anxious Experience

Today’s post is a guest post written by Eya, a follower of Our Happy Notes on Instagram (their username: @the_dangerous_me). It was edited by Millie Bevan, founder of Our Happy Notes. If you would like to collaborate please email ourhappynotes@gmail.com or fill out the contact form on the website.

Anxiety can be a very physical experience where you can’t understand what’s happening to your body.  It’s hard to rationalise; it feels like your hormones have gone into overdrive. And really they have – being afraid or nervous is your body and brain’s way of telling you that there is danger nearby, so you may think at first that the feeling will pass, but anxiety means your brain sees danger everywhere. It doesn’t pass so easily. 

Anxiety is a silent killer. It kills your soul, it cuts you to pieces. Consider yourself as a game to anxiety because it makes you feel like a doll which it plays with. You can’t sleep at night and you constantly question what the people around you might be thinking, getting stuck in a loop with these thoughts going round and round in your head, replaying everything you’ve said and done. I have experienced anxiety since I was 13 years old when I started to lose sleep andi cried at night and i suffered. I felt so alone and it was a dark time in my life. I lost friends, became isolated, and soon started to experience depression as well. But there is  hope. I went to a therapist and day by day I felt better. Anxiety is not a topic to be taken lightly. It can make life so difficult. But you are not alone and you can look after your mental health. Eventually, with patience, it gets better.

There’s a lot of love out there and people that care. You can learn to love yourself again; know that there’s nothing that could stop you from your dreams and achievements. Nowadays I feel so much better, so I want to pass that hope onto you so you can enjoy everyday for yourself. 

Posted in autism, Managing Mental Health, Mental Health, Personal Growth

How to Make a Happy Kit

I still struggle greatly everyday with my mental health, and that can be enormously frustrating. It can also make it feel like the smaller things I can do to help myself are useless in the long run. However, I know this isn’t true. I know that when I add up all these little bits and pieces (like writing and walking for example) they do make an impact. And, yes, sometimes it’s a very small impact – but I know how much more hopeless and desperate it would make me feel if it wasn’t there. One of my favourite things I ever did to help myself manage my mental health was to make a ‘Happy Kit’ (as I call it). The great thing is that it’s totally unique to me and my needs, so I thought I’d share a little guide on how to make your own Happy Kit to suit you. I really love mine and I would recommend that everyone make something like this, because we all have mental health and challenging days – or simply just bored days. In my case it has loads of stuff in it to help me manage my anxiety, depressive episodes, sensory overload, and boredom; I keep it in my school bag at all times. So here’s how I made it:

My ‘Happy Kit’ is almost like a summary of all the tools I’ve gathered over the years to help myself. However, before you decide on the specifics of what will be in your kit, decide how you want to use it. Do you want it to be a box full of stuff that will keep you entertained when you’re bored at home? Or something you can always keep in your bag? Or maybe it’s something you use to help you wind down in the evenings? Once you’ve decided this, you can then choose what container you’re going to keep it in. I keep mine in a black makeup bag with sparkles sewn into it – I like the texture and the way it catches the light. You might choose to keep yours in a box or on a shelf in your bathroom cupboard for example.

Before I go further, here’s an overview of the contents in my own Happy Kit to give you an idea of what to keep in mind when making yours:

Me and My Happy Kit
  1. Fiddle toys – they help me focus in lessons, ease anxiety, and remain grounded during sensory overload. I have several different kinds with different textures
  2. A list of distractions – I have so many different activities on this list! And they range from things that are easier for me to do when I’m feeling low, more creative for when I’m hyper, and calming for when I’m anxious. I have this list because I’m learning that if I can direct myself towards an activity, it eases how I feel, but sometimes I can’t think of anything to do, so I refer to the list. And if I still can’t decide, I can always just pick a random number and do that activity!
  3. Gemstones – I’m not entirely sure if I believe gemstones work, but I do believe they can act as a placebo at least, and I find it very calming to hold them, if only as a way to remind me to try and bring myself back into a more neutral place mentally
  4. Items with sentimental value – To remind me of good times and the love of people in my life
  5. A toolkit list – This is a list with easy to follow steps that summarise particular tools I’ve learnt to help me manage and think more clearly, like how to accept emotions and reduce judgements
  6. Sweets/ mints – Sometimes I have Rescue Remedy sweets in my kit and sometimes I just have normal sweets, but something that tastes nice and I can suck on is just pleasant and calming for me
  7. Something smelly – not smelly in a bad way! Just something that smells pleasing to me, like lavender or essential oils or a mini perfume. Sometimes because they’re calming scents, and sometimes just because they make me feel fancy. As someone who’s autistic smells can also help when I am sensory seeking (kind of the opposite to sensory overload/ avoiding such) in a really simple way
Some of the things in my happy kit

Obviously all of that is specific to what helps me, but it might give you some ideas. If you like fiddle toys or nice textures then put something like that into your kit. For me they represent something calming and soothing to me that I can also use to engage my brain. I’d definitely recommend you to make a list of distractions/ activities regardless of what you’re using your Happy Kit for – you can tailor it to yourself but it comes in really useful in lots of situations. For example if you are making your kit to help you relax in the evening it could have a a list of ten things that you can do to help you relax and you could pick one each evening. If it’s to calm anxiety, then put down a few distractions and a few activities that might calm your anxiety – like breathing exercises, colouring, or reading a book perhaps. And if you’re making your kit for when you are bored then throw down a load of different activities, and make sure to include some you might not usually do (for example, writing a song even if you’re not musical). My list includes a mixture of all these different things! Here’s some of the things on my list:

A picture of some of the activities on my distractions list

I hope this has inspired you to think about making a little toolkit for yourself (or even for someone else). Please feel free to ask for any advice or share your ideas for your own happy kit. Sending all my love and support. Xx

Posted in Advocacy, autism, Personal Growth

Autism is My Superpower

I’m autistic. Having autism in a neurotypical world is not easy because generally the world isn’t built for us and proves to be confusing, but for anyone struggling with their diagnosis/ symptoms (and any neurotypicals unclear on the individual nature of autism) I want to make it clear that having autism isn’t a defect. Nor is it a mental illness. In fact, it can be a bonus in many situations, and when accommodated to autistic people can provide new perspectives and skills to the benefit of others. I, for one, like to think that my autism is my superpower, and this is my personal experience:

I learnt to ‘mask’ my autism – consciously learning how to act and react from other people’s behaviour; having to put effort into learning social rules that came naturally to others. Masking can be exhausting, so I know it’s essential that I take breaks and find time for myself, but like a superhero in a costume, it can also be powerful. How? Because my passion is theatre, and when I become the character I act out on stage, I am easily able to slip myself into their shoes – I know how they would behave and why. It comes effortless to me. The misconception is that autistic people are like robots and can only slot into certain careers. In reality we are varied like everyone else, and our uniqueness is incredible. We exist in every identity there is: every race, every gender, every sexuality, as parents and children. Our variety is often overlooked.

My increased sensory input is a key feature of my superpower. I observe more, hear more, taste more. This translates to a benefit in so many situations. You don’t know your train time? Don’t worry, I glanced at the board quickly and noticed it. You’re lost and don’t know the way back? Don’t worry, I spotted landmarks along the way, I know where we’re going. You’re trying to remember where you put your glasses? Never fear, I spotted them. And if we’re thinking about sound and music, my greater sensory input comes to my aid once again – that along with my ability to spot patterns as part of my autism, and my synaesthesia (which is far more prevalent among autistic people than the general population). When I hear a piece of music, it is alive to me. It is full of colour, I hear every layer of the rich instruments, and I can see the patterns the notes are forming. If I want to then play that piece on piano, I need only translate the pattern onto the keys – give me a bit of time and I can paint the picture I hear all by myself. This is my superpower. 

Not to mention the fact that I am quite simply neurodivergent. I think experience the world in a way that is different to ‘the norm’, or rather the majority. Why is this a feature of my superpower? Because I can come up with new ideas and perspectives that may have been overlooked or not thought of at all. In certain situations this can become the way I overcome challenges or help others to do so; in the right combination my divergent thinking could be innovative. Us autistic people have a place in this society, no matter where our traits lie on the spectrum, and if we are accommodated we may even be able to offer solutions, certainly valuable contributions at the least. 

Like a superhero may have an emblem, sign, or symbol, I have my stims. By stims I mean self stimulatory behaviour. Why is this so amazing? Well, it indicates to me how I am feeling (different stims, like tapping my fingers on my palm or twirling my ankle, correspond to different moods). Not only this, but should I start to feel an uncomfortable emotion, stimming freely can help calm me down. There’s a lot of people out there that don’t have something so simple in their toolbox, so this is powerful to me. It’s also such a pure form of expression, and can even help me release my creativity, tapping into my flow. Furthermore, my stims evolve over time – hitting my head morphed into covering my head and now I need only put on a hat to feel at home. How awesome is that? 

This barely scratches the surface of my positive autistic experience, but I hope it has enlightened you. Autism is not a bad thing – quite the opposite. And the beautiful part of it is that no one autistic person’s experience is the same as another. We have a place in this world, and we’re not going anywhere, so the more that neurotypicals begin to understand and help us meet our needs, the more we can give.

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Letter to Anyone With Disordered Eating

Dear you,

I’ll start by saying hello and that I care, in case no one has said that to you today. Where you are right now, I’ve been there. Maybe not physically, but in some way mentally, and certainly in empathy with you. Some days you’ve probably told yourself you’re not struggling, it’s not hard, it’s worth it – I know I did. And deep down I also know that you know it’s not. It never will be. So here’s my letter to you. Not to say stop or that the pain goes away overnight, just to speak to you as someone who cares, and let you be.

You may think this is all about ‘skinny’; that this is all about achieving the version of yourself that you ‘should’ be. You might think you’re in control. It feels good to be in control right? To know your goals, your focus for the day or the month. I get that. The problem is that in the end, you’re not. And, wow, that is painful to realise. It crushed me when I did. It brought back the struggle of every step I’d been through. But it was necessary. In the end it controls you – whether that is your thoughts or this system telling you that you will never be enough until you fit into that dress, it controls you. And all of a sudden what you were fighting for becomes the thing you are fighting to get away from. In a way, if you really look, you can see this all along. I don’t want you to feel that terror or that hurt, but I want you to know you are not alone in that and the sooner you can get away from it the better.

The good news is that you can. I’m not forcing you to – I’m not another voice telling you to eat more or eat less or do this or that because they can be annoying right? And they can fuel us, I know they did for me. I lived for the finger on my spine telling me how skinny I’d gotten; I lived for the voice telling me how healthy I looked, thinking I’d failed. You’ve never failed. There’s never anything you should be. All I want to do is remind you of your power and your strength because my goodness have you got a lot of it. Think I’m wrong? Well let’s have a look at it, logically – maybe you’ve been restricting for months, purging for years, feeling unworthy for what seems like a lifetime, binging every night? That takes effort. That is blood and sweat and tears, often literally. But the effort it took just to put into that system shows you just how much power you have in you to reverse it. That strength can be turned around to go the other way and to learn, or relearn perhaps, that you are enough just the way you are. What makes you who you are is not your body.

Words like that seem futile though sometimes, don’t they? Well, I’ll let you in on a secret, I don’t love my body. Most people don’t love their bodies, at least not everyday. But what I do have now is a deep appreciation for how incredible the inner workings of my body are. They’re insane! And most days – I have acceptance. That’s all I need. Acceptance that this food fuels my brain, and that I am enough in this moment. Just enough. Not to say I don’t still struggle, because I do, I really do, but I look back on the pain I was in and I wonder how I ever survived. I didn’t even realise it at the time. It took someone reaching out and telling me they’d been there too for me to even comprehend the idea that this wasn’t healthy for me to be under such mental stress, let alone physical. You are not alone.

Most likely you know all the issues that await if you head down this road further, so I’m not here to preach that to you, but to give you hope of a life outside of this. Of an acceptance and tolerance I for one could not even dream of at one point. My dear you are doing alright – whatever has brought you to this point does not deserve your magnificence or your power. I want to remind you that help is a brave word and there are so many people out there ready and willing to help you in so many different capacities no matter what your struggle may be. I love you, and you are worthy of a life outside of a fixation on your looks. We all are.

Your friend,

Millie

Posted in Personal Growth

Goodbye 2020. Hello tomorrow

‘Whether you’re excited or scared, relieved or neutral about the New Year, I hope you can be a little bit proud that you’ve made it through this one. And remember that there is no pressure for you to be anything or do anything to prepare for the next year – at the end of the day, it’s just a day. Take it one step at a time, and know that you are not alone. Goodbye 2020. Hello tomorrow.’ These were the words from the Happy Note I posted on Instagram today. There can be a lot of pressure on New Years, and I am someone who societal pressure tends to rub up the wrong way. I have mixed feeling about New Years, but in the end I usually just let it be.

I wanted to say ‘good riddance 2020’ but I stopped myself. Why? Because to me ‘good riddance’ connotes total negativity, and yes this year has been very difficult for many people in many ways, but I have found positive moments within it – it would be an injustice to the good memories and growth within my own life to say that it has been all bad. I have to hold onto the small good things, if only as a survival mechanism. So what have been some good moments? I made new friends, started exchanging letters with them, became more active on Our Happy Notes, and got some qualifications. And that just scratches the surface. Can you think of just one good memory or moment – no matter how small – from this year that you can hold onto to? Think of it and try and allow it just a single moment in your mind on its own, without any thoughts like ‘but the bad moments are worse’. No matter how short, try and give it just a moment. 

I was also tempted to make resolutions. But resolutions often lead to a sense of pressure for me, and then a sense of failure or stress, and that’s not good for me. Instead I have hopes. Hope is a beautiful thing. I hope that I will continue to push for mental health system change in 2021 – I hope that my ideas grow and reach other people, and that I can use this space to continue to discuss the reasons and ways in which we need change. I hope I read some more books. I hope I am a good friend. I hope the world heals just a little bit; changes a little bit; loves a little bit more. I hope I can learn how I can help to treat the environment better. If I could make a single resolution, the first one that comes to mind is to be ok. Mentally. To be stable and recovered. But I cannot put a timeframe on that, nor do I believe I will ever be ‘recovered’ as opposed to ‘recovering’. And that hurts to think sometimes, so again I bring in the hope (like my shining sidekick). I hope that I will make it to 2022. I hope that I will find a few more tools to help me manage my mental health this year. I hope that I can find the joy in the idea of constantly recovering – the fact that I get to constantly learn, even if that means going backwards a step sometimes. What are your hopes?

What I’m trying to say in the midst of all this blabber is that 2021 doesn’t have to be anything other than a collection of days. You don’t have to be anything. Especially for anyone living with a mental illness, this doesn’t have to be ‘your year’. Your recovery can’t be forced, though I am in awe of the fact that you would want to take steps to help yourself. I’m in awe of the fact that you made it through this year. Take those steps, by all means, but take them a day at a time – there doesn’t have to be a timeframe on it. And if the only step you can take is surviving the day, then I’m still so proud of you. I especially hope we can carry a sense of community into 2021; being there for eachother. 

You are never alone. 

Goodbye 2020. Hello tomorrow.

Posted in Advocacy, Happy Notes, Mental Health, Notes, Personal Growth

What is positivity?

This post is inspired by I note I made for my Instagram – @our.happy.notes – which read: ‘For me being positive doesn’t mean being happy or positive all the time, it means allowing myself to appreciate the moments that I do feel positive, and allowing the possibility of hope to exist’. I wrote it because being the inquisitive person I am and being active on social media brought the thought into my mind – what is positivity? What does positivity mean to me?

I’m a person that tends to find myself living in extremes. There either is or there isn’t. I am all or nothing. So with positivity and a mood disorder, I found that I either lived in a state of overwhelming optimist or complete lack of any positive thought at all. What I have found interesting, and beneficial to my mental health, is exploring the space in between. The idea that even in positive moments I can accept that it won’t last forever, and in the times where I lack such I can acknowledge that it doesn’t mean that positivity has disappeared.

I think sometimes even in well meaning spaces, there can be such a pressure to be positive and see the good in life. Unfortunately this simply isn’t possible all of the time, and when we put pressure on ourselves to feel one way or the other it can lead to us feeling even worse. The reality of the situation is that all emotions on the spectrum are valid. Yet the lack of positivity or hope in one moment does not mean it will never return; that it has ceased to exist. Nowadays this is something I like to remind myself – writing it out helps me to absorb it.

So, what is positivity to me? Positivity is not the blind belief in a bright future, but the acceptance of the fact that a bright future could exist. It is allowing the possibility of a good day for someone else happening, even if it isn’t for me. It is embracing the small, joyful things in life – the most minute parts of the world that make me a little less down, even if only for a moment. It is an intangible thing, an emotion, an idea – a beautiful prospect.

However I recognise that in moments we really can want to increase our positive thoughts and feelings in life. I am no expert on this, though I do have some tools that have helped me. In the morning I write down affirmations for the day – ‘Today can be a good day’, ‘I am enough’, etc. In the evening I write a gratitude list – ‘I have a roof over my head’, ‘someone smiled at me in the street’. I list the small things in life that bring me joy. I allow myself to dream wildly, but remind myself that whether or not these dreams materialise, I will be ok. I smile; sometimes I simply sit there and I smile. And when I feel that positivity is disappearing, that hope is waning, I repeat aloud and write on paper that they are not gone forever. These might seem a little silly, but they are some of the most healing things toward my mental health.

Sending love and support to anyone who needs it today!

Love, Millie x

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Small Steps

Hey there! 

I’ve been thinking recently on how I can help myself to maintain a better state of mental health, when I’m already feeling a bit better in myself, but also how I can make it easier to lift out of those darker moments. Through some conversations, therapy, and self reflection I have come to appreciate how important the small steps we take to support our mental health are.

However, when you’re feeling particularly blue it can be difficult to even begin to do the smallest things; people can often get annoyed at us for this as well. For me one way of overcoming this is by breaking them down into even smaller steps. For example if my aim is to take my meds, then I’ll start by walking to the drawer, then opening the draw, taking them out, laying them out etc etc. It may seem silly at first – I know for me it almost felt like I was patronising myself – but it might just be of use to try this, and it is a huge thing to take any of these steps so you deserve congratulating for that! 

So what are some of the small steps I’ve come up with to help maintain my mental health? Writing my diary; gratitude and affirmation lists; meds and vits; drinking enough water; walking; allowing myself downtime; using planners to keep on top of work; reading (to make learning fun); making my happy notes; doodling and using fiddle toys; playing piano; meditating and more…

I hope you can find some small steps that will help you maintain your mental health! We all have it and we all need to look after it 

See ya later 🙂

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Lessons from Bipolar

I have struggled, and continue to struggle, with my mental health for quite a few years. At first it felt like I was going insane all on my own – a very isolating experience. Slowly, I am learning to manage my mental health, understand myself, and vocalise my experience; it would be untrue to say that receiving the diagnosis of cyclothymia (a subtype of bipolar disorder) did not aid facilitate this. As I continue to battle with my mind, I’ve realised that being in opposition to the reality of my experience does nothing to help me. I am learning to embrace and accept this part of me, and to change my attitudes towards my challenges. Now I try to – though is is difficult – find positivity and gratitude for what I go through; one way I do this is by reflecting on the lessons I have learnt along the way while dealing with this disorder.

So here are some of the lessons I embrace from bipolar: 

First and foremost, there is always good in the bad, even if we can’t see it at the time. Along these lines, when I felt that I had lost myself (as I frequently did) I was actually growing the most, almost like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. And the things I had struggled with most became my greatest sources of strength. Not only this, but what I have been through can actually help other people – for them to feel less alone, for me to share some small wisdom, etc. 

Looking back, I know nothing is too big or difficult for me to overcome. Nothing. I used to live in such fear of the next episode or the next ‘thing’, but each time I survived, and came out stronger – if a bit exhausted. It may take a while, but I will find my path; just because there are bumps along the road doesn’t mean the road has ended, sometimes the bumps make the end result so much more worthwhile. 

Nonetheless, I couldn’t do this alone. The great thing? I don’t have to. I know that now. And asking for help is a brave thing to do, not a weak thing. Anyone living with a mental illness is so strong, not weak or broken. Asking for help has led me to some of the most amazing, kindest people out there, and it was worth the time it took to find them. There are masses of people out there willing to support someone. 

Along the way I’ve made many mistakes; misdirected attempts to cope. But recovering from these (recovery: a journey) has taught me that I am more than my mistakes – I am a nuanced person and neither my slip ups nor my illness define me. The most important steps and changes I make in recovery are the little ones, because they add up and make a huge difference. One day at a time. 

However, I’ve learnt that sometimes I need to do the things I don’t want to or think I don’t have the energy to in order to help me in the long run, for this is certainly a marathon not a sprint. Still, just because I have this difficulty doesn’t mean that it’s a defect. I have learnt that I can face any challenge so long as I approach it with creativity, and from my struggles I can find inspiration. For example, turning my hypomanic experience into poetry. 

For anyone grappling with their diagnosis, keep going yet. This too shall pass, and you are not alone.

Posted in Mental Health, Personal Growth

Another Letter to My Mental Illnesses

A version of this letter spoken to camera can be found on my Instagram @our.happy.notes

Last night I dreamt of you. And it’s hazy, in the way that memories of dreams often are, but I remember the premise. You had disappeared. I had woken up one day and you had disappeared. And whenever anyone asked me what I wanted, at a restaurant or in life, all I could reply was that I wanted you. 

You see, I used to be so afraid of you. I’m not anymore. Not like I was. But sometimes I wonder if I’ve gone the other way, or a different way, and now I’m obsessed with you. Maybe you’re obsessed with me. Whatever it is I know you take up far too much of my time, and the dream – well it made me think perhaps we were due another conversation.

Here we go again, aye? You just couldn’t give it a rest, could you? I mean it’s partly my fault. Or our fault. No, my fault, or – well sometimes it’s hard to separate us out really. The things you say to me, have the nerve to say to me, they are something else. Living in my thoughts, daring to breathe the air that I do, rent free – well, not anymore. I will not allow those thoughts to become my emotions and my behaviours anymore. And now I sound like a therapy book! Spitting out these promises that really mean nothing without the actions you try so very hard to impair. Screw it, that’s a good thing. It means I’m learning. And the more I learn, my friend, the less power you have. You wouldn’t believe how much the thought of that thrills me. 

Now look, ok, look, I’ve wondered for a while now, been turning it over in my mind, so I’m just going to have to come out and say it – I wonder if secretly you’re on my side. Our side. Humanities side as a whole. And don’t, because I can feel you laughing at me, and I know you’re far too vain, devilish, frankly destructive to admit it, but hear me out. The best people I have ever met are the ones you have brushed against. The strongest, and most courageous people. The kindest. What’s more, the ways you alter our brains, force us to work to move beyond you, I’ve seen first hand how that can change the world – how it revolutionises through our daring to move outside of the box. And on those occasions, many occasions really, that you happen to take those wonderful people away (you lying bastard) – it shows the rest of what needs to be changed in the world. So maybe, just maybe, you’re not all that bad. Then again, maybe it’s just our fighting spirit, the one you highlight in us. Either way, I refuse to believe that your hopelessness breeds only more darkness – my dear I will transform you into light, like I already am, and I’ll marvel at that process every step of the way. 

Tried to tell me this one was a solution didn’t you. And god I want to kick myself sometimes for being so naïve, for not seeing your tricks earlier, because I know, I know, that’s the way you work. And yet I also know it’s not too late. It’s never too late. I see the beauty in you. And I really do enjoy annoying you by saying that. Let me thank you again for all your lessons, your opportunities to grow, and this time for your chaos. From that fire I fashion creativity, hope, and… so much more. In an almost paradoxical way, the part I appreciate most in myself is you. You make everything else worthwhile. You make every other bit of me stronger. I mean, I hate you, I loathe you, I battle with you every day, and let’s not fail to mention that I am exhausted, but I am not finished yet. 

Well I don’t really have much else to say today. I guess I just wanted to check in with you. I hope you’re struggling, like I do. That would mean we’re growing. Because this is the time. This is my time.