of schizoaffective: bipolar type. It wasn't a diagnosis I understood nor
agreed with. I saw myself as bipolar and it took me ages to accept this
diagnosis. In fact it was bipolar with paranoid features apparently. I
was smoking cannabis at the time but he didn't give me a diagnosis of
dual diagnosis perhaps because he'd taken the time to understand a bit
about my childhood.
He was a private psychiatrist recommended to my family as being good at
dealing with people like me. He obviously had a good reputation in the
medical community, much better than the (Asian) psychiatrist I would
have seen had I accessed NHS services at the time. The Asian
psychiatrist I saw after I stopped seeing the private psychiatrist gave
me a diagnosis of bipolar but he spent very little time with me. The
white psychiatrists who I saw on my third hopsitalisation gave me a
diagnosis of mixed affective disorder. The middle eastern or Asian
psychiatrist I saw last year gave me no diagnosis at all.
I've never had a brain scan. Psychiatric illnesses are meant to be
caused by changes in the brain. I was put on medication that works by
affecting brain chemistry by the private psychiatrist and told I had a
chemical imbalance in the brain but this was never established either.
I was put on enough medication for two people by the private
psychiatrist. They helped keep me docile and they helped to make me want
to die but took all the energy out of me to try. After all, suicide
attempts are so expensive.
So I became fat, listless and empty inside. I dragged myself to work and
drank and puffed. My dreams were shattered. My internal experience of
conscious was dulled so I drank and got stoned more than I used to. I
cared nothing for life. I was depressed and exploited for my depression
but it matter not.
I came off medication unsupported and ended up in hospital twice in a
year. I didn't work or volunteer for a long time. But eventually I got
myself back to work. Just a part time job and one I barely managed to
keep because of my mental illness but somehow I kept it.
I went through psychosis while I worked but managed to keep working. I
went through hypomania but managed to keep my job. I went through all of
this without medication or any support from the NHS. I lived just above
the poverty line to make my debt repayments.
Eventually I quit that job to prevent myself from killing myself.
Suicidality is a complex thing for people who don't experience the
different forms it can take. At the time I knew I couldn't ride the wave
of hypomania any longer and I was on the very of inadvertently killing
myself. I got so desperate I went for help and was even willing to
accept medication. Sadly it all came too late so I had to quit my job
and my self-stigmatic attitude meant I refused to take sick leave. I'd
turned down the offer of a role working for a friend before I quit and
since I had nothing to go to, no form of income or anything I ended up
taking the role with him.
This year has been total hell the likes of which no one should ever
suffer. I suffered the alone. I managed to work so I could have some
income even though I was burnout, psychotic and extremely depressed.
People watch the Steven Fry documentary and think bipolar isn't so bad.
They can't understand the depth of the crashes and the aftermath of
mania. On top of that I've struggled with an eating disorder, heart
break and, perhaps worse of all, deep soul pain. I've also read copious
amounts of research and written a lot on mental health. This blog is a
testament to that work.
I've come fairly close to taking my own life too. I'm feeling better now
and I'm more 'normal'. I suffer less though I still suffer. The best
moment this year is finding out that I can hopefully have an assisted
suicide. The Dignitas clinic in Switzerland does self-termination for
mental ill health.
Since finding this out I have found life easier to live. I still think
of suicide but I experience it less. I still have times when I find
myself fighting not to jump onto the tracks but those are far less
frequent. I still hate being alive but I'm used to it and now I have a hope.
I'm working on a plan. Initially I was considering terminating my life
in a year but I think I'll wait four years. The number is relatively
arbitary but I assume a person can't just walk into the Dignitas clinic
and terminate themselves straight away. I know many ways to kill myself
but I've found it hard. The next time will be final though and Dignitas
provides me an option to do it in a good way so no one else gets hurt
and perhaps I can even have people with me when I take my final exit.
I currently have a dream job and I have the chance that my own dreams
may be fulfilled. I have a couple of beautiful women in my life and hope
to have more if I have any time. I have a lot of work to do.
I have to make plan on how I will get Dignitas to accept me. I assume
I'll have to accept some level of therapy. 4 years is a long time so I
may change my mind but I doubt it. I may take my life sooner or I will
take it anyway if Dignitas refuse.
I may die before then because of my eating disorder. I don't want that
to happen because it's unlikely that I'll die. More likely I'll end up
in a ward and have treatment forced on me. It's why I have to stay away
from the NHS as I've had to stay away before. I will acept no treatment
if there's any coercion involved.
Four years is a long time and it will be a struggle but there is a light
at the end. The end of my life. I can sleep forever. I never have to
wake up again. Never have to go through another day of this shit of a life.
In the meantime I can do my bit for other people who go through shit in
life. I can try to solve the problems. I can work to get the funds to
change this stinking world and rid it of the shit.
Wish me luck!
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