Mental Health: Saying Goodbye to Stigmaনমুনা

Day Two - My Story: Part 2

Revelation 12:11 - And they have defeated him by the blood of the Lamb and by their testimony.

Hello, and welcome back to part two of Saying Goodbye to Stigma: Opening up a healthy conversation around mental health. Yesterday, we began to explore my story and experience with mental health and illness.

Let’s continue…

After being diagnosed with depression and given medication, I felt defeated and relieved all at once. I had allowed my emotions to get the better of me to the point of needing medical intervention. This felt like a personal failure, but the hope of feeling better gave me a sense of relief.

I tried the medication I was given, and it did not suit me. I was anxious, nervous, and hyper-vigilant in every interaction I had with everyone. This was not the medicine for me. I went back to the doctor, and he prescribed a different medicine.

Thankfully, this one was much more ‘me,’ and not only did I begin to feel slightly better, but I also felt able to continue with my studies.

Fast forward to 2006 - my third year of higher education - where I became a Christian. It is here that I truly believe my healing began. Although it didn’t take the route that I anticipated…

Fast-forward again to 2011. Five years after graduating from Drama School, I had moved back to Cardiff to plant a church in the city centre with a team of five other people. I had been on my medication ever since finding ‘my fit,’ and life was good.

However, one weekend I got to Friday evening and realised that I had not renewed my prescription ready for the next day. I went three days without medicine and felt fine.

For those of you who may have walked a similar journey, you will know that three days is not a satisfactory nor wise time frame to begin assessing the effects of coming off powerful medicines such as the one that I was prescribed.

I decided not to renew my prescription and - cold turkey - stopped taking my medication. The following two months or so proved to be a steady decline into depression and deep emotional and mental distress.

I called my dad and confessed that I was ill, feeling incredibly stressed, tearful, and constantly anxious. He drove to Cardiff, collected me from the team house, and took me home with him and my stepmum.

That night, I was unable to sleep. I was tormented by anxiety, depression, and tears and generally felt at the end of my rope. My dad and stepmum took me to the local Accident and Emergency room, and I was given something to help me calm down and sleep with the promise of a nurse's visit in the morning.

The nurse visited me the next day and decided I was fine, just a little dramatic.

My stepmum stepped in and fought for the nurse to take me seriously (which, thankfully, she did), and I was admitted to a psychiatric unit for two weeks.

During my stay in the hospital, I was monitored carefully.

My symptoms had started to present differently in this time of my life. I was manic at times - not in the eyes rolling/racing around kind of way that television and film would have you believe of a mentally ill person. My illness was presenting more as me flitting from one activity to another, full of ideas, not sleeping or eating. I would then spend various periods of time sad, tearful, and unable to be consoled.

I would love to tell you that this is where the chaos and confusion ends, that I received a neat and tidy solution from the professionals. Sadly, this is not the case.

Read on tomorrow for the final part of my testimony.