‘I didn’t sleep for six nights’: Health reporter on battling bipolar disorder

Journalist Emma Russell has written about living with bipolar disorder in the hope of helping at least one person feel less alone.

I remember being about 15 years old and watching a television series called Friday Night Lights that featured a teenager living with bipolar disorder. She was introduced to the show with this contagious energy that everyone around her enjoyed. The next day, she was crying on the kitchen floor as her confused boyfriend hugged her to comfort her. That was the last time we saw her character, but that was my first encounter with the word bipolar, let alone its multi-layered meaning. Fast forward 12 years and I began to notice that she was experiencing symptoms of this “invisible illness.” I couldn’t sleep a wink for six nights in a row because my brain was moving at a million miles an hour.

On the fourth night, a colleague told me that he had tried acid once and couldn’t handle it because his brain was moving too fast for him to control. That was the moment I realized that what was going on inside my head was not normal.

My doctor later explained that I was manic, and we found out that one trigger was the excitement that came from my fast-paced work. He had so many ideas about the world that he wanted to share.

Being manic can basically mean I’m high without drugs. I become ultra observant and alert. It’s like I’m accessing more parts of my brain than the average mind. I can work at my highest level, up to a point. I feel confident and invincible like I can achieve anything. However, the other side of the coin is that my brain can only store so much of the information it receives, so my memory becomes weak. There have been times when I can’t remember if something happened today or yesterday no matter how hard I try and if I don’t notice I can’t remember a conversation. I can also trade 10 or more steps ahead of others, which often means it can be hard for people to keep up with my thought process. My partner makes fun of me because I often start half a conversation in my head and then speak.

After “a high”, I usually slip into a period of depression, leaving me brain foggy, feeling unmotivated, lacking in confidence and extremely emotional. The higher I go, the more depressed I can become afterwards. Although two years ago, I did not know this.

On the sixth day of no sleep, I realized that I needed help as my mind was operating beyond my control.

At this point, I was getting anxious about losing my mind and never being able to go back to sleep. I was afraid that I might end up in a psychiatric ward. I was terrified of receiving repeated electric shock treatments and being drugged into turning into a human shell like someone else I know. She was afraid of ending up like Angelina Jolie in the movie Changeling, whose son goes missing and the authorities try to convince her that another child is hers before committing her to a mental institution when she insists she isn’t. I was afraid that people would not believe me and treat me differently because of it, unconsciously or not. And of course, the more I tried to sleep, the more difficult it became.

On day seven, I worked up the courage to make an appointment with a doctor. I was careful to find a GP who I thought I could trust and who would understand me. I did my research and I am so thankful I made the right choice.

My GP started the appointment by asking, “Emma, ​​tell me a little bit about yourself.” – so simple, but this holistic approach gave me the impression that she was not only interested in the problem at hand, but needed some context. He wanted to know me as a person. I appreciate that GPs only get 10 minutes per appointment so the context they can gather is limited, but the intent was there and that mattered. I remember immediately bursting into tears and throwing up everything inside my head, which probably made for an interesting first impression, to say the least. I told her that I was very worried about taking pills as a means of “fixing this problem” and that I wanted to deal with “it” in the most natural way possible. She was kind. She told me that sleep was a priority and that we needed to address that first. So, she took a chance and told me that she lost her friend to suicide; that friend was a colleague who was living with bipolar and refused to take her medication. My doctor, frankly, said that people can die from not sleeping. It was a risk because that could have instilled an immense fear in me. Instead, she did the opposite, as if she had expected me to give me the wake-up call she needed.

Initially, he prescribed me a sleeping pill “to try” and told me he would call me the next morning to see how I was doing. She couldn’t stop crying, so to avoid having to go through the front desk like a total mess, she very kindly suggested that she walk out the front door and they would send me the bill.

Later that day he called me to say he was worried the first sleeping pill wasn’t strong enough, so he prescribed a stronger one that I could take if the first one didn’t work. That night I slept, but when I woke up my mind was still racing at a million miles an hour, which I passed on to my doctor when he called. He then put me on an antipsychotic which scared me a bit, but he explained it was to balance chemicals in my brain to slow down my thoughts. I asked if he was addictive and he told me no. He prescribed me one pill a night, which was 25mg, two if I still couldn’t sleep, and said that people who had extreme psychotic episodes could take 700mg a day.

Here’s an example of my memory failing when I’m manic. I didn’t remember my doctor telling me to just take the antipsychotic and that night I took it with the two sleeping pills. I woke up for a 6 am shift, working from home, and I was high. I remember going out on my deck feeling baked. My boss called me and I remember her saying “Emma, ​​are you okay, doesn’t it ring a bell?” to which I decided now was the best time to say, in a very baked tone, “I’m feeling pretty out of it.” Fortunately, this boss knew that he had not been sleeping and he wisely advised me to take it easy. Then my doctor called and I remember his voice “panicked but trying not to show it” saying “Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah You can’t take life too seriously, Mom and I have laughed a lot about it ever since.

The antipsychotic worked to slow down my mind. However, it was not the long-term solution. Without a support network around me and without coming to terms with the root of the “problem”, I wouldn’t be writing this today.

I received counseling, thankfully funded through my workplace, and dealt with past traumas I didn’t know existed. I am aware that others are not so lucky to have access to counseling and would strongly advocate for more workplaces to ensure employees have strong mental health support. If you’re not taking care of your workers, then you’re not using them to their full potential and they, and your business, will suffer. I also had three people that I told about my situation and who could let me know if I was losing consciousness. I then told my team leader at work who was incredibly supportive. Gradually talking about it became easier. I still keep some parts private and I’m careful who I trust. I am also very lucky to have the most patient partner in the world who has been my absolute support, although I am careful not to trust him because I am an independent person and so is he.

There is so much more to my story and there is so much I am still working on, but this I know: Consciousness is power because it gives me control, bipolar doesn’t mean I’m crazy and even though it’s a part of me, it does. does not define me

What is bipolar?

The word bipolar derives from “two poles” meaning polar opposite moods of mania and depression.

During a period of mania, the person may exhibit extremely high positive mood, erratic behavior, speak very quickly, and may have difficulty sleeping. Your understanding of negative consequences may be affected during this time period.

During the depressive period, a person may experience ongoing sadness and an inability to enjoy normal day-to-day activities. They may constantly feel tired, worthless, and experience low self-esteem.

My advice to others:

1. Talk to trusted people. The saying “a problem shared is a problem halved” is very true.

2. If you’re trying to get someone you love to open up, start by sharing something personal about yourself. It can help provide a comfortable and safe space and build trust.

3. Just because someone tells you a problem doesn’t mean you have to fix it. Sometimes just being there, in any way you can, is more than enough.

4. Sometimes people don’t have energy to give because they’re fighting their own demons, that doesn’t mean they don’t care.

5. Therapy can be more than just talking about it. Sometimes people don’t want to talk. Sometimes wordless company is better medicine, whether it’s swimming in the sea, watching a movie or playing pool.

6. The most important thing to remember: you are not alone. I don’t know anyone who hasn’t had a mental battle. If they say no, they are lying.

Find Emma’s coverage of true stories covering pain and smiles here: https://www.instagram.com/emma.russell_journo/

Where to get help:

If you are concerned about your mental health or that of another person, the best place to get help is your GP or local mental health provider. However, if you or someone else is in danger or putting others in danger, call the police immediately on 111.

Or if you need to talk to someone else:

Depression Helpline: 0800 111 757 or text 4202 Lifeline: Call 0800 543 354 or text 4357 (HELP) Suicide Crisis Helpline: Call 0508 828 865 ( 0508 TAUTOKO) Do you need to talk? Call or text 1737

• The Front Page is a daily news podcast from the New Zealand Herald, available to listen to every day of the week from 5am.

• You can follow the podcast on iHeartRadio, Apple Podcasts, Spotifyor wherever you get your podcasts.