Sach's Mental Health Journey

It all started when I was 12...

Before, I was a happy, bubbly, charismatic individual. Life was beautiful and worth living. But then the monster of depression hit. I suddenly was not myself anymore. I was a shell of a human being. I became enveloped in misery. I was drowning in panic attacks, low self-esteem, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. At 13, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. Life then became a never-ending whirlwind of doctors appointments, different therapists, and multiple antidepressants. It never seemed to end.

At 15, I thought my life was over. I remember laying out all my pills, counting to see if they could actually end my life. I remember holding a knife to my chest, waiting to pluck up the courage to plunge it into my body. I remember locking myself in the bathroom, cutting my skin, whilst my poor mother sat outside begging me to open the door. That's what life was like for me. Never-ending pain.

Multiple medications and doctors later, I find myself at age 20, in my final year at university. I was finally doing well for once. I was consistent in my studies, I was exercising, I was cooking and eating well, and I was having a blast with my friends. Life finally gave me a break, and I was soaking up all the sunshine. I then go on a trip with my friends for a week, and had the time of my life. I was free from the burdens of mental illness, and felt joyful and liberated. Little did I know, coming back home was the start of a downward spiral...

In the airport, I began bawling my eyes out, because I was so exhausted. I had hardly slept on the trip, averaging 2 hours a night. I had been awake for about 35 hours straight at this point and had to wait in the airport for even more hours to get our luggage. Even when I got home, I couldn't sleep. The exhaustion was crippling but sleep still eluded me. Aside from the exhaustion, I was ecstatic. I was bouncing off the walls, talking really fast, and was extremely emotional. I thought I was finally cured from my depression and anxiety. I felt invincible. Nothing could stop me. I thought I was the most genius individual and that the universe was sending me signs. In actuality, I was experiencing delusions of grandeur, racing thoughts, goal-oriented behaviour, and excessive energy, the tell-tale signs of a manic episode.

Everyone in my life was so concerned about me, and I couldn't fathom why, because I thought this was what life was like when you're not burdened with mental illness. I then go back to my mother's home, and soon became out of control. I still couldn't sleep. I began screaming the house down and acting extremely erratic. Anger fuelled through my blood at the people around me. "Why do you think I'm crazy?! I'm finally cured!"

After a call to the mental health crisis team and one sleeping pill later, 999 was called. I felt ridiculed and furious that this situation constituted an 'emergency'. I was then taken to the very hospital I was born in. At first, I was on the phone to my friends, laughing at the situation. It felt comical. I was then waiting for a psychiatrist to come assess me. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Still waiting...

Multiple shift changes, a cannula in my arm, no sleep, me effing and blinding at the staff, screaming and crying, begging for the staff to call my parents, I was then detained in a small room with a camera in it. "Oh shit, am I crazy...?". By the time 24 hours had passed, I was finally seen by a psychiatrist. "Great. I'm going to be told that I can go home."

Nope.

I was then taken across the hospital grounds to another building. "What the fuck is happening...?". I was detained in a psychiatric ward under Section 2 of the Mental Health Act. Long story short, I spent 2 weeks detained there, and it was traumatic to say the least. I spent Christmas and the New Year locked up. I was terrified each night, wondering what stories haunted the ward. I wasn't even told what was wrong with me, why I was there, or when I would be leaving. I was alone in the dark, literally and metaphorically.

After 2 weeks passed, I was finally home. I was still very manic even though I was hopped up on so many pills. Soon after, I was diagnosed with Bipolar Type 1, and the crisis team visited me at home for a few weeks. After roughly 2-3 months of being manic, I was coming down off the high. I then became severely depressed and was overwhelmed with anxiety.

I was in my final year at university, and yet I could not leave my house. Darkness consumed me. I was, once again, a shell of a human being. I couldn't sit my exams, or do my dissertation, and life, yet again, felt overwhelmingly miserable. I felt like a failure.

After some time, I came back on antidepressants (whilst remaining on antipsychotics) and I decided to repeat my final year at university. I started practicing gratitude to the universe. Nature gave me a second chance at life. My recovery journey had just begun. I then took a trip to Thailand for 5 weeks, volunteering in a rural village with my friends, providing Health and Wellbeing workshops to children and monks in the town. I came home, and completed my final year at university. I also began volunteering for Shout, a texting crisis line for people struggling with their mental health. I then graduated from university, with a Bachelor's degree in Criminology and Psychology.

I now find myself at 23, in the midst of my Master's degree, studying Forensic Psychology and Mental Health. I am eager to put my experience to good use and help others suffering with mental turmoil. By no means am I cured or the perfect image of mental health. I still have bad days, and I'm still a work in progress, but overall, I can now wholeheartedly say that I am stable, and at peace.

My story is one of gratitude. Gratitude for the roof over my head, for the food on my plate, and for the clothes on my back. I am also so grateful to the beautiful people I have met along my journey. From the staff and patients in the ward, to my friends and family. I have to say the biggest thanks to my parents - without them, I wouldn't be here today. I am so grateful to the universe for everything I have been through, because even though it left scars that'll never fade, it made me a stronger, more resilient, and determined person. I now know that I am a multifaceted individual with so much to offer to the world, and so are you.

If you're reading this, I hope you know that you are greater than your ups and downs, and that you are stronger than your anguish. I hope you know how wonderfully unique and capable you are. Your existence on this planet is so infinitesimally improbable, so be grateful for being here, and know that you are alive for a reason.

Thank you for reading. You're amazing!

Sach x