The Instability of a Bipolar Brain (an exceprt from Oliver's book Befriending Bipolar)

At the tender age of seventeen, a giant stop sign fell from the sky and landed in front of me. Before bipolar, I didn’t have a clue who I was but after my first mania I had even less of an idea. The episode shook me to the core and left me unable to trust anything I thought, felt or said. It left me with a visceral, ongoing fear that I might, at any moment, return to those hellish states. My brain had broken once would it happen again? From the age of thirteen my life had been all about friends, fun and getting stuck into life. I had plenty of energy, drive and enthusiasm and my life reflected this. Then an uninvited mental meteorite crashed into my world, turning it upside down and inside out. My friends were moving forward with their lives, but I wasn’t included and didn’t know if I ever would be. I had been left behind by the herd, no longer enjoying its protective security, which left me feeling lonely and lost.

I had planned to spend a year in America, working at a children’s holiday camp in the mountains in Michigan but was forced to cancel my trip. My long-anticipated American adventure was no more. Instead, I stayed in Scotland slowly getting back on my feet. Part of me was disappointed and part of me relieved. This trip was such an opportunity, but I feared I wasn’t well enough to cope with it. I was struggling to take responsibility for myself, let alone a bunch of energetic kids. Had I gone there in those vulnerable “post episode” months it would not have gone well.

Every week, I drove into Edinburgh for an appointment with my psychiatrist, a man called Dr. Rob Wrate. Dr. Wrate had a profound impact on my life at that time. Small of stature, he was the spitting image of the psychiatrist played by Robin Williams in the film Good Will Hunting and shared a similar temperament. He wore a beard, studious glasses, a shirt and tie, corduroy trousers and a smart Harris tweed jacket, and was one of the kindest and most intelligent men I had met. With eyes that danced as he spoke, Dr. Wrate radiated compassion, smiled easily, and made me feel at ease in his company. We got on well and it didn’t take long for him to win my trust and respect.

I cannot emphasise how helpful it was to have such a gifted psychiatrist in my corner. Like most people, I had a habit of dealing with my problems on my own, but talking about them helped me in a variety of ways. Our discussions shone a light on issues I thought were insolvable and we found solutions I could never have found by myself. Dr. Wrate listened intently, never rushing to conclusions or hurrying with his advice. Full of perception, he talked to me in a way that ensured I understood not only his advice but what it meant for me and my life. Sometimes I saw him alone and sometimes I took my mother along because he made her feel better too!

Dr. Wrate took me off anti-depressants to see how I would cope without medication and to reduce the risk of them pushing me into another manic episode. It was a difficult time with my mood all over the place. Some days, I felt like a caged tiger, others like a lost sheep, and others like a sedated slug crawling its way through life. My zest for life went into hibernation as I fell back into periods of mild depression, anxiety and boredom. I spent a lot of time alone, going for walks or lying on my bed dozing. Getting out of bed in the mornings was laborious, my appetite sparrow-like and the motivation to rebuild my life non-existent.

I was fortunate that my mother was willing to try many different modalities to help me recover and this opened my eyes to the potential of alternative treatments for mental health. I remember she took me to see a hypnotherapist in Edinburgh and when I left her office I couldn’t believe my luck. On my first appointment with this calm and kind lady, my anxiety had calmed and I felt more relaxed than I had done in years. I spent that afternoon wandering around our home, revelling in my newfound inner calm. 

Unfortunately, hypnotherapy was not a permanent cure, and later that day my anxiety rushed back. I had been sitting peacefully in our living room, when I overheard my parents chatting about my appointment. Their innocuous conversation tripped a switch in my fragile brain. A slew of paranoid thoughts rushing into my mind like a flash flood cascading down a parched valley.

“Oh no! It was a setup,” I thought. “That woman wasn’t a real hypnotherapist. She was a government agent trying to brainwash me. They're after me. I can't believe it,” I panicked. There was nothing negative in anything my parents said but hearing them talking about me in another room was enough to reignite my paranoia and rob me of my new-found calm. One small comment sent me back to square one. For months, this emotional instability dominated my state of mind. It was miserable to feel so unstable, so easily buffeted by extreme emotions but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. What other choice did I have? Over time my mood improved and after a challenging year for both me and my parents I went to Newcastle University hoping it would bring me back to life.

An excerpt from Oliver Seligman's book Befriending Bipolar: a patient's perspective. 

Oliver has a Youtube channel called: @livingbetterwithbipolar       

Here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/@livingbetterwithbipolar