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Blog 2...Bipolar II 25/10/2018 I have Bipolar II Rapid cycling, Hypomania. My highs are not like Bipolar 1 where the "highs" are extremely high...described as manic. If you can visualise a horizontal line to represent the "middle" where it's "not too high and not too low", somewhere in-between, Hypomania is not far above that line. The depths of my lows are termed as Meloncholia. This space cripples me from feeling any joy, happiness, motivation...I cannot function in this meloncholic state. The depression is so great and it isolates me from feeling "alive". Death and dying became all consuming. Feelings of worthlessness, guilt, remorse, regrets, and constant rumination became all too much. I was not able to articulate what was happening to me during the days of despair. When I tried telling how I was feeling and the pain I was feeling inside, the response was always "no, that's not it". The invalidation added another layer to my depression. As this happened, I would scream " if that's not it, then tell me what it is and you fix it". My relationships with my husband and son deteriorated to the point where either we retreated to our different corners of our house or arguments would ensue. Arguments always had the same theme...I wanted/needed to be heard but I felt no one listened. So from this, I spiralled further to the pitts of " I am not important" in their lives. It appeared I was the instigator of all that was wrong and I carried that thought everyday for the past three years. Fight or flight...I did both. Depending on where I was on the cycle...hypomanic or meloncholic. When I was on an up cycle, I felt invisible, I functioned, I felt "normal"...my usual self. It was a great feeling as being on an up cycle it meant I was not depressed. I would rather be up than the polar opposite. Being hypomanic, I had a lot of nervous energy...things needed to get done and it had to be done instantly. I had the energy to get on my hands and knees scrubbing the skirting boards, the kickboard of my breakfast bench, change the configurations of each wardrobe. I spoke loudly...my son would repeatedly tell me not to yell when I spoke. My response was always " I'm no https://www.instagram.com/p/BpmLWwTliMD/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bgc9fkstkqv3

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Blog1... 24/10/2018 Mental illness does not discriminate. Whether rich or poor, or a person with a degree, a profession or someone like me...who is a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mum and a Social Worker. My very first experience with mental illness was in 1998. I volunteered at the Wayside Chapel's crisis desk before getting a paid role in their Day to Day Living Program. Wayside is a drop in centre for people who are homeless. They are people with drug and alcohol related issues and mental illness. I remember my first day, I asked my then supervisor Jenny " how do I speak to people who are homeless? What do I say to people with a mental illness? " My life was a sheltered one. She said " talk to them as you would anyone else". This catapulted my confidence and I soon realised, everyone had a story. I met a Barrister, a Doctor, a Writer, a parent...mental illness does not discriminate. I loved being with them. They did not need my sympathy...they needed empathy, understanding and respect. Fast forward twenty years on August 7, 2018...I was diagnosed with Bipolar II, Auditory Hallucinations and Memory Illusions. Having a diagnosis, it explained my behaviours throughout my life. I felt life was lived from one extreme to another...there was never an "in-between". That was how I described it to those closest to me. In the last two years, I became more aware of "voices" outside of myself. Usually it would be quick, raspy whispers behind my ears...never both ears at once. I explained it as "a ghost" talking to me but it never was an experience which I was afraid of. It wasn't inside my head, and it was not sinister. There were times I would ask someone like my son, what he just said. He would tell me he did not say anything. It bothered me a lot as I would be adament that he did. I would feel confused and be in a space between reality and second guessing myself. Conversations I had, never happened. I was so sure things were said a week ago but they say it never did. I would insist vehemently that yes they did..."and I am not crazy!" This started happening a lot in the last two years. It caused many arguments and in my mind, a conspiracy. As a teenager, I f https://www.instagram.com/p/BpmLIcbFkx3/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=u3ykqmi324ib