Dark night of the soul: Being bipolar

Painting named "Duality" by artist Virgo Rising

October 2009, I was 20 years old. Returning from a little holiday with a German friend from Raglan. There I was, ward 28 of Wellington City’s very own psychiatric intensive care unit, “The Looney Bin”. I think I might have punched a guy, it’s a weird memory for me. Mania is a strange place to be, everything is magnified, intensified, amplified to a million hertz. It’s like the drug nobody could pay for, heightened, alert, fast, transient. People wanted to believe that I had a meth problem, which of course I did not, I’ve never touched the stuff. One therapist tried to get me to say I had been raped, though I wasn’t ready for that discussion. Trauma is certainly a big component of bad mental health. I was 48kgs, sentient and heavily drugged on olanzapine, quetiapine, lorazepam – a concoction of whatever it was for this dangerously out of control character that I had become. It was a dark time for me and my whānau... My first dark night of the soul. Of many….

I was seeing things – people had black demon eyes. Hearing things that people weren’t really saying, I thought it was telepathy or spiritual enlightenment. In some ways I guess it was… it seemed like everyone was lying and trying to hurt me. It felt so unsafe, so unreal. The mind is a dangerous place when you are psychotic. Honestly, I don’t think being placed in psychiatric care at that time really helped me, if anything it made me worse. In reality, it wasn’t just about me, it was about my family. Was I a danger to them? Maybe. I never hurt my family but I definitely said things I shouldn’t have. Ranting and raving about the spiritual realm and hearing my ancestors. Chain-smoking cigarettes and eating nothing. When the medication kicked in, I became docile, stuck in a zombie state for 2 years to keep my psychosis under control. The only thing that kept me happy during that time was food. So I ate my only source of happiness and of course put on an enormous amount of weight. The medication made me ravenous. I went from the heights of mania to the pits of depression.

Olanzapine shuts down parts of your brain so that mania and psychosis aren’t chemically overriding a person’s sense and logic. The depression that came from this medicated slumber was more of nothingness, I didn’t feel as if I enjoyed anything any more and I recall not laughing through this entire time. As soon as I was able to get out of the house, I smoked weed to elevate myself from the abyss. This was really my lowest point. And even as loved and supported as I was, it wasn’t something that anyone else could get me through, except myself. Mum said she wasn’t sure if I would come back from it. I felt dead, I went through a period of refusing medication because of the weight and depression. I was fighting myself and I was losing.

I chose psychology as a major in an effort to take control of what I thought I had lost after my diagnosis. I have always been an extreme personality - artistic, passionate, overly-analytical, life of the party, sentimental and romantic. I was in my first year at Waikato University (studied formerly at Victoria University for 1 year and 3 years at Te Wānanga o Aotearoa). After years of denial, I finally decided to look into bipolar disorder from an academic perspective and the truth was in black in white, I ticked all the boxes. Terrible with money, rash decisions making, grandiose, acting on a whim, either very happy or very sad, not much emotional balance. I couldn’t deny my truth anymore and it made me dig very deep into my choices and perception of myself.

How many aspects of this condition can I cover? People always assume the worst of mental illness, which can be very real but I need my readers to know that it is possible to overcome. Since 2010 I had been committed once more, after the birth of my Son. Even though I was clean, my sleeping was non-existent, my anxiety was through the roof and I went through a relationship rollercoaster with the Father of my children. With all this knowledge under my belt and despite being unwell I knew I needed to be a better, healthier person for my Son. I chose to seek professional help. 9 days in ICU at Henry Bennett and I cried for him every night. Pumping milk that he couldn’t drink because it made him sick from my medication. Thank God for the support of my parents during this time. In many situations like this, where solo parents become unwell and in psychiatric units, children are taken from their parents and put into state care. Even though the situation was not ideal… and the most difficult time of my life. I was making the efforts to heal and recover which is where it really counts.

If you’ve been in the depths of mental hell, you understand just how hard it is to feel any sense of hope. The darkness is consuming and it is a place where only those who have been can fathom. Hopelessness is the worst part when you feel you have no control. Barely wanting for a better tomorrow because a depressed mind will tell you that tomorrow is doomed. We need to talk about the real issues so that we can provide real solutions. I feel my journey with mental health has made me seek these solutions. Putting them into practice means I know their value and want to give these tools of wellness to others.

After 10 years of juggling bipolar effective disorder I can say that I have found very real methods of winning myself over. I needed a reason, I guess. There was always my studies, I managed to fumble through 3 degrees and a masters against all odds. I never really had balance until I had my second child in 2017. My children forced me to take a cold hard look in the mirror and be accountable for my health, FOR THEM. I need to be their rock, I need to be stable, I need to display healed behaviors for my babies so that they can live fruitful lives without the shadows of my darkness.

Big thank you to my Cousin and Editor Emma Te Rina Smith for holding my hand through this very vulnerable piece. I sat on this article for months before sharing it. Also a huge mihi to my Kiels Te Rerewai O Ngā Tupuna and Te Ahumaikahurangi O Te Pononga for always giving me a safe space to sit in my truth. I love you fullahs immensely.