Emma decided to speak out about her battle with bipolar to help remove the stigma around the invisible illness. Photo / Dean Purcell
Emma decided to speak out about her battle with bipolar to help remove the stigma around the invisible illness. Photo / Dean Purcell
Journalist Emma Russell has spoken to The Front Page podcast and written about living with bipolar with the hope of helping at least one person feel less alone.
I remember being about 15 years old, watching a TV series called Friday Night Lights that featured a teen living with bipolar. She was introduced to the show with this infectious energy that everyone around her thrived off. The next day she was crying on her kitchen floor while her confused boyfriend hugged her for comfort. That was the last we saw of her character but that was my first encounter with the word bipolar, let alone its multi-layered meaning. Fast-forward 12 years and I started noticing I was experiencing symptoms of this "invisible illness". I didn't sleep a wink for six nights in a row because my brain was moving at a million miles an hour.
On the fourth night, a mate told me he'd tried acid once and couldn't handle it because his brain was moving too fast for him to control. That was the moment I realised what was going on inside my head wasn't normal.
My doctor later explained that I was manic and we worked out a trigger was excitement which stemmed from my fast-paced job. I had so many ideas about the world I wanted to share.
Being manic can basically mean I'm on a high without drugs. I become ultra-observant and alert. It's like I'm accessing more parts of my brain than the average mind. I can work at my highest level, up until a point. I feel confident and invincible like I can achieve anything. However, the flip side is my brain can only store so much of the information it's receiving so my memory weakens. There have been times when I can't remember if something happened today or yesterday no matter how hard I try and if I'm not aware I can have no recollection of a conversation. I can also be operating 10 or more steps ahead of everyone which often means it can be hard for people to keep up with my thought process. My partner teases me because I often start half a conversation in my head and then talk.
After "a high" I usually slump into a period of depression - leaving me with a foggy brain, feeling unmotivated, lacking confidence and extremely emotional. The higher I go, the more depressed I can become after. Though two years ago, I didn't know this.
On day six of not sleeping, I realised I needed help as my mind was operating beyond my control.
Angelina Jolie in the movie Changeling. Photo / Supplied
By this point, I was becoming anxious about losing my mind and never being able to get back to sleep. I feared I could end up in a psychiatric ward. I was terrified of being given repeated electric shock treatments and being drugged up to become a shell of a human like someone else I know. I was scared that I would end up like Angelina Jolie in the movie Changeling, whose son goes missing and authorities try to convince her another boy is her son before throwing her in a mental institution when she insists he is not. I was scared about people not believing me and treating me differently because of it, unconsciously or not. And of course, the more I tried to sleep the harder it became.
On day seven, I plucked up the courage to book an appointment with a doctor. I was careful to find a GP who I thought I could trust and who would understand me - I did my research and I'm so grateful I chose right.
My GP started the appointment by asking: "Emma, tell me a bit about yourself?" - so simple but this holistic approach gave me the impression she wasn't just interested in the problem at hand but she needed some context. She wanted to know me as a person. I appreciate GPs only have 10 minutes per appointment so the context they can gather is limited but the intention was there and that mattered. I remember immediately breaking down in tears and word-vomiting everything inside my head which probably gave her an interesting first impression, to say the least. I told her I was very apprehensive about popping pills as a means to "fix this problem" and wanted to deal with "it" as naturally as I could. She was kind. She told me sleep was a top priority and we needed to tackle that first. Then, she took a risk and told me she lost her friend to suicide – that friend was a colleague who lived with bipolar and refused to take her medicine. My doctor, quite frankly, said people can die from not sleeping. It was a risk because that could have drilled immense fear into me. Instead, it did the opposite, like she had hoped it gave me the wake-up call I needed.
Initially, she prescribed me a sleeping pill "to try" and told me she would call me the next morning to see how I was feeling. I couldn't stop crying, so to avoid me having to go through reception looking like a total wreck she very kindly suggested I slip out the front door and they would send me the invoice.
Later that day she called me to say she was worried the first sleeping pill wouldn't be strong enough, so she prescribed me a stronger one that I could take if the first one didn't work. That night I slept but when I woke up my mind was still moving a million miles an hour, which I relayed to my doctor when she called. She then prescribed me an antipsychotic which scared me a little but she explained it was to balance out the chemicals in my brain to slow down my thoughts. I asked if it was addictive and she said it was not. She prescribed me one pill a night, which was 25mg - two if I still couldn't sleep - and said people having extreme psychotic episodes could have 700mg a day.
Here is an example of my memory failing me when I'm manic. I didn't remember my doctor telling me to just take the antipsychotic and that night I took it with the two sleeping pills. I woke up for a 6am shift, working from home, and I was stoned. I remember walking out on to my deck feeling baked. My boss called me and I remember her saying "Emma, are you all good, you don't sound it?" to which I decided was the best moment to say, in a very baked tone, "I feel pretty out of it aye". Luckily, this boss knew I hadn't been sleeping and wisely advised me to take it easy. Then, my doctor called and I remember her "panicked but trying not to show it" voice saying "you took all three!!". You can't take life too seriously - mum and I have since had a good laugh about it.
Emma talks to Front Page host Damien Venuto about her reasons for opening up about bipolar. Photo / Dean Purcell
The antipsychotic worked to slow my mind down. However, it wasn't the long-term solution. Without a support network around me and me coming to terms with the root of the "problem", I wouldn't be writing this today.
I had counselling, fortunately funded through my workplace, and dealt with past trauma I didn't know was there. I am mindful others aren't so lucky to have access to counselling and I would strongly advocate for more workplaces to ensure employees have solid mental health support. If you're not looking after your workers then you aren't utilising them to their full potential and they, and your business, will suffer. I also had three people I told about my situation who could let me know if I was losing awareness. Then I told my team leader at work who was unbelievably supportive. Slowly talking about it became easier. I still keep some bits private and I'm careful who I trust. I'm also extremely lucky to have the world's most patient partner who has been my absolute rock - though I am careful not to rely on him because I am my own person and so is he.
There is much more to my story and there's a lot I'm still working out but this I know: awareness is power because it gives me control, bipolar does not mean I'm crazy and though it is a part of me, it does not define me.
What is bipolar?
The word bipolar derives from "two poles" signifying polar opposite moods of mania and depression.
During a period of mania, the person may present with extremely elevated positive mood, erratic behaviour, talk very fast and may find it difficult to sleep. Their understanding of negative consequences may be affected during this period of time.
During the depressive period, a person may experience ongoing sadness, and an inability to find enjoyment in usual day-to-day activities. They may feel constantly tired, worthless and experience low self-esteem.
My advice for others:
1. Talk to people you trust. The saying "a problem shared is a problem halved" holds a lot of truth.
2. If you are trying to get someone you love to open up, start by sharing something personal about yourself. It can help provide a comfortable, safe space and builds trust.
3. Just because someone tells you a problem, does not mean you have to fix it. Sometimes just being there, in whatever way you can, is more than enough.
4. Sometimes people don't have energy to give because they are battling their own demons, that doesn't mean they don't care.
5. Therapy can be more than talking about it. Sometimes people don't want to talk. Sometimes companionship without words is better medicine - whether that's swimming in the sea, watching a movie or playing pool.
If you are worried about your or someone else's mental health, the best place to get help is your GP or local mental health provider. However, if you or someone else is in danger or endangering others, call police immediately on 111.
Or if you need to talk to someone else:
Depression helpline: 0800 111 757 or text 4202 Lifeline: Call 0800 543 354 or text 4357 (HELP) Suicide Crisis Helpline: Call 0508 828 865 (0508 TAUTOKO) Need to talk? Call or text 1737
