My bipolar disorder personal story
I'm Kristen Selway and from a young age, the word bipolar used to fill me with dread. As a young person, I always associated a person labelled bipolar as crazy until I experienced my first bipolar rapid cycling episode in 2013 and that was the start of my bipolar disorder story. When I look back to age 23 when my bipolar disorder was discovered, I was completely unaware of what mental illness was and completely oblivious during cycles of manic and hypomanic episodes. Back then I thought bipolar ruined my life, this was the start of a ten-year mental health journey that is still being written today.
When my bipolar disorder was discovered
Looking back, there were clear signs during my teenage years I was destined to experience difficulties with my mental health later in life. At age 19, I turned up at the local doctor’s surgery to ask for help with depression and anxiety; unfortunately, as a teenage boy, asking someone for help because I felt down felt impossible, and after two/three medical appointments, I finally broke down and asked for help.
Citalopram was the first tablet for mental health I tried before moving on to Sertraline. The problem with taking medication for mental health, it’s easy to believe all you need to take is a tablet, and all your worries will disappear after a few weeks. Sadly, as a young adult, I’d pop a pill but wouldn’t do anything else to improve my wellbeing. As weeks and months passed, my depression and anxiety worsened, and even music for depression therapy failed.
During the working week, I would often experience depression, tiredness, and turn up to work late. Even as a top-performing telemarketing professional, my levels of depression and anxiety were so significant that I started becoming reclusive not just in my personal life, but in my professional life too.
There was a famous Eastenders storyline that had society talking about the character Stacey Slater, who was experiencing symptoms of bipolar disorder. As the nation started talking about bipolar and psychosis, I started reflecting on my genetics (as I was adopted) and asked Google if bipolar was genetic, and if so, did I have bipolar. Unfortunately, that was a question not even the mighty Google search engine could answer. This marked a significant turning point in my bipolar disorder story.
2012, the start of one big bipolar rapid cycling episode. Visualise the most extreme rollercoaster that starts with a rapid incline and gets faster, more exhilarating, and riskier but makes you feel like you’re alive whilst flying amongst the clouds. that’s how I felt at the start of 2012.
The increased energy resulted in me achieving an increased number of sales for my employer, subsequently resulting in a substantial increase in how much I was getting compensated. As a twenty-three-year-old receiving a bonus in the thousands, it really made me feel invincible, unbeatable, and, to a certain extent, untouchable. The mental high I was on, even to this day, was the most amazing, unrivalled feeling I’ve ever experienced. The increased mania fooled me into believing I’d overcome my depression and low self-esteem. The personal experiences became bigger, as they had to be; every time the reality of how depressed and lonely I was kicked in, I needed a positivity fix, “It doesn’t matter that I’m lonely and sad because I’m successful and have money”, so I’d tell myself. These intense shifts are a key part of many bipolar disorder stories.
Next up, for my next fix, it was Marketing Mandy. I’d been trying to land a job in marketing with very little success, so I decided to set up my own business and online marketing directory. What could go wrong? I’m on a winning streak; I’m untouchable with bags of energy. As the weeks passed, I started staying up later, working harder, and spending 16 hours plus in front of a laptop. I honestly believed I was on the way up, and nobody could stop me in my quest to turn Marketing Mandy into a successful online business. Sadly, my lack of life and professional experience, along with the decline in my mental health, saw the business fail. Being lonely and successful is one thing, but feeling like a failure, both personally and professionally, is a lot worse. This became the straw that broke the camel’s back and contributed to the complexities of my bipolar disorder story.
Bipolar disorder stories: The first hospital admission
It’s 2013. It was gone midnight, and I was sitting alone in my living room. My mood had fallen off a cliff, I’d told myself I was a failure both in my professional and personal life as thoughts of ending my life echoed inside my head. The feeling of failure consumed me as I visualised how I wanted to die. As I planned my death, I suddenly picked up my phone and rang a relative, and completely broke down. First, it was the out-of-hours doctor, then a mental health assessment unit in Pontypool with a one-way ticket to the psychiatric ward within Ystrad Mynach Hospital, where I was officially diagnosed with Bipolar and put on Olanzapine.
Bipolar disorder stories: Recovery (part one)
I took less than a month off work, and the Olanzapine hit me like a truck. First, it was the ongoing hunger (no one's fridge was safe), then the lack of energy. When I look back on those weeks and months, I really did give up on myself and let the medication and my diagnosis of Bipolar dictate my actions; it had been coming for years, but I'd now well and truly lost myself. My weight increased along with my levels of depression. As months turned into years, a glance of hope appeared on the horizon.
The birth of huge expectations and hope
I finally got a job in marketing, and even though I needed three energy drinks a day, my career was finally on track; then I learned I was going to be a dad... At this point, I was close to twenty stone and clinically obese, and I knew I didn't earn enough, so two weeks before the birth of my son, I started a new role in sales. The new role came with an increase in salary and a commission structure that enabled me to financially support, my new family.
On the 22nd of October 2015, my son, Oliver (Ollie) Selway, was born. From that moment on, I had another reason to down an energy drink, crawl out of bed and get through the working week. Weeks into being a new dad, I realised I was so tired, depressed, and lost that I couldn't bond with my son; even Ollie wasn't enough to pull me out of this cesspit of depression, anxiety, and loneliness. After this photo was taken, I started the new year with a promise; I promised myself that I would lose the weight and start doing activities that improved my mood.
As the months passed, I started losing weight, started bonding more with Ollie, and even though I was still depressed and lost, I would volunteer with the Samaritans, which did help me. As the old saying goes, it's easier to help others and talk about other people's struggles with mental health instead of tackling your own. I spent four years volunteering on the phones, and to this day, it's the most eye-opening and rewarding activity I've ever done. During those four years, I discovered how normal it is to suffer with your mental health. Whether it's 2 am or 2 pm, callers would often have one thing in common: they had a handful of activities that would act as a positive distraction, whether that was for one minute, one hour, or one day, for me, the key as a listening volunteer was to listen to the caller and help them identify which positive activity they should carry out after the call had ended.
I stopped volunteering, so I could spend more time with Ollie and focus on my career, which was now fully back in digital marketing, which I'd been striving for, for years. Additionally, even though I was still clinically obese, I set myself the goal of climbing Mount Kilimanjaro within the next couple of years. For me, Kilimanjaro represents achieving the impossible and silencing all those who laughed at me; after all, I was the guy who needed three energy drinks a day to get me through the working week. I really was the person with all the gear and no idea, but as I got fitter and lost more weight, I really didn't care. The memories of being laughed out of the climbing shop and office just give me that extra motivation when things got tough.
The end of an era and global pandemic
Things did get tough in 2020. COVID-19 impacted us all, and even though I'd class myself as one of the lucky ones, it had a negative impact on my mental health. During the start of the pandemic, family relatives became ill, I went through a marriage breakup, and my career in marketing got derailed.
It's 2021, and it was Ollie and me vs the world. Friends are hard to come by, and one person, in particular, helped me stay grounded and mentally stable. When that friendship came to an end, all I could think of was 2013 all over again. I pushed my body physically and mentally every day and focused on only doing activities that would give me joy and make me happy. The pressure I was under personally, financially, and professionally finally took its toll as I went from joint child custody to not having Ollie at all. Sadly, even with past life experiences, the pandemic knocked me for six, and my second hospital admission was on the horizon.
My second hospital admission and losing reality
It was a dark October evening, and I'd hit rock bottom; as I attempted to travel to Somerset, I completely lost it in the car, and as I got closer to the Seven-Bridge, thoughts of suicide crept in. Thankfully, I pulled over and asked for help. Within thirty minutes, I was at St Caddocks Hospital being looked after by the mental health crisis team. I was later sent home in a taxi so a member of the mental health home treatment team could see me the following day. When I got home, all I could think about was doing something that gave me joy, which for me was being close to the sea. In the early hours, I jumped in my car and drove to Watchet in Somerset, where my parents were living.
I saw my parents for less than an hour and returned home because I felt like a burden. Once I arrived home, I remember sitting in front of the TV for a few hours. My thoughts were racing, and I couldn't stop coughing. Did I have COVID-19? No, I'd only done a test a few days before. As the night got later, I remember thinking there was something wrong with me physically, and I was so afraid to sleep that I took myself to A&E.
I remember walking into A&E, and that's when things got crazy... I was sitting in the waiting area (not sure how long for), and I thought the staff was watching me because they thought I had some sort of pulmonary heart problem. What happened next is still a blur. I remember being wheeled up a corridor, and it felt like I was going towards a wind turbine; I was experiencing a whooshing sensation like I was on a slow, windy, straight rollercoaster. Then I was sitting in an eight-bay cubicle, believing that I was going to die; all I can remember is thinking I had a 50/50 chance of surviving and my family was on their way before surgery. I messaged a lot of people in my phone book, wishing them luck (because I thought I was going to die). I did the same on Facebook and LinkedIn. All I can remember next is telling the nurse I was ready for my operation and instantly snapped out of the illusion I was in. I've never been so confused in my life, there was nothing physically wrong with me, and my mind had played tricks on me.
Losing reality left me lost, scared, and numb. As I bolted out of the hospital, a friend came to my rescue and stopped me from escaping. I managed to persuade them to let me have 'one last supper' at the local Harvester before I agreed to attend the physiatric ward at Ystrad Mynach Hospital. On assessment, it was agreed I'd stay at the hospital to recover for a period of time.
I was sitting on the same bench in the hospital that I sat on in 2013. It was complete DjVu, and I felt disappointed in myself; I felt like I'd let myself down, and I was determined to prove I was well enough to go home. On reflection, I was completely ignorant; I believed I wasn't as ill as others; I saw them as mentally ill and myself as sane. Weeks later, I learned I was SO wrong.
The great escape and making the same mistake three times
It's true what they say, a lie always catches up with you. Unconsciously, I lied and got discharged from the hospital when I was still very ill. On reflection, some of my actions were uncharacteristic and a clear sign of how ill I was. Within a couple of weeks, I ended up being readmitted to Ystrad Hospital, where I had to admit to myself and the medical team that I'd made the same mistake three times and I needed further help. Thankfully, I was looked after by some amazing people, and after a few weeks, I was discharged with a diagnosis of Bipolar Disorder and put on Quetiapine, followed by Olanzapine.
To be continued...
My bipolar disorder story doesn't end there and, like so many people diagnosed with bipolar disorder and other mental health conditions, I have to find and activate positive coping mechanisms that gives me joy and keep me healthy. That's where the inspiration for Gives You Joy comes from. We all have hobbies and activities that positively stimulate and calm our brains, and the team behind Gives You Joy wants to make discovering those activities easier for all.
Kristen Selway