My name is Lilas. I am twenty-two years old and was diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder when I was sixteen. At first, I refused to believe this; told no one and self-medicated with cocaine, Valium and obsessive exercise. Although I had been seeing a psychiatrist for years, it took me losing my job, my boyfriend, my apartment and almost my life to confront my demons and accept that I had an illness and needed medication.
This was a terrifying idea; I was much happier with the excuse that the reason for my crippling depression was because my mother had died when I was fourteen and I was “excitable” at times because I was a teenager. This is what I had led myself, and everyone around me to believe.
When I finally understood the seriousness of my illness and the reality that it could kill me, I found myself in a very lonely place. I was nineteen and no matter how much I tried to explain the suicidal voices, the religious hallucinations and the dangerous behavior to the people close to me, they were unable to understand.
People were just unable to accept that it wasn’t because I was a particularly wild child that I broke into that guys house naked or rode my bike around London for miles in my bikini or disappeared with that random drug dealer for days, but because I had a chemical imbalance in my brain. There is nothing harder than accepting you have a mental illness then having to convince everyone around you that you are mentally ill. This is where I found myself.
Even now, three years, two in-patient hospital trips and a lot of medication later, I am baffled to find that a few friends still seem suspicious of my illness and I know this is due to the taboo that still surrounds mental health and not their trust in my character.
This is why I am happy to contribute to this blog, because Bipolar is a still a tricky subject and if I can help educate others through my mistakes and successes then something helpful is coming out of this illness.
- Lilas Green