It took me almost 11 years to leave my husband and the father of my three children. While in no doubt did these years manifest the mental illness inside of me, that relationship will be kept from this journey, I have three innocent children to protect.
Here I was with my new partner, father of my two youngest children and expecting our third together. He had seen great changes within me and was becoming incredibly worried about me. I believe around this time that I stabbed him in the head with a folk, I don’t remember it being out of malice, yet was something so out of character.
He was getting rather annoyed with me and forced me to speak. Why had I not even been to see the doctor or made an appointment with the midwife. By four months gestation he knew I should have already been under the care of the midwife and he was excited to see his unborn child on a neonatal scan, the scan I dreaded.
I did not want to see this baby. I was trying to live with the fact that I had tried to kill it, didn’t want it and had no feelings to bond with it. As the baby kicked, I would feel that pang of guilt and disgust. I so wanted to touch my baby bump, yet my head would scream at me that not getting attached to it was for the best. My baby would die because of me.
I made the appointment for the following day and off I went. Just walking to the surgery which was a ten minute walk was difficult, shaking and full of fear my body shook uncontrollably and the palms of my hands were dripping with sweat.
Was somebody following me?
Who kept calling my name?
I sat alone at the back of the surgery, my feet tapping on the floor. I was sure everybody was watching me, could sense I was crazy. Their eyes piercing into my skin, I felt the tears running freely and the more I tried to stop them coming the more that leaked from my eyes. By the time my name was called my eyes were a puffy red and my coat sleeve was ringing with snot.
Looking back how I feel so sorry for the doctor that had to take me on as their patient. He took one look at me and I knew this was going to be difficult for both of us. I had that voice appear in my head again, telling me over and over to keep my mouth shut and that if I told what was really happening inside this head of mine, the men in white coats were going to come and get me.
I can only guess that once I opened my mouth it all came blurting out. I am sure I made no sense at all. I described how afraid I was leaving the home and how I forever felt someone was trying to hurt me. I had begun to self-starve my body of food and enjoyed burning myself with hot water.
I told him that I had an unwanted desires to take the burning hot iron plate to my arm.
The impulses to test the heat of a boiling chip pan was becoming stronger. This is still something I struggle with as I write this. I no longer fry eggs because the desire to place my hand in the frying pan becomes so appealing.
I knew this was wrong, that it would hurt but that voice inside my heads told me it would not hurt. Like the time the voice told me to jump in front of the car as I was crossing the road, as it sped towards me it shouted “ Go on it won’t hurt you”. It’s as if I was pushed from some unseen force but luckily I had stopped myself from stepping forward.
I refrained from telling him how I had been thinking of ways to get this pregnancy out of the ay as soon as possible by means of removing it myself but I did confide in him that I was pregnant.
I don’t think the doctor knew what to say. All he could do was nod.
He advised that I go home and wait and an appointment would be sent to me in the next 48 hours, to speak to a member of the mental health crisis team.
I went home and I waited.
I waited 48 hours, then 72 hours and then finally 2 weeks later that appointment came through. This would be the start of my time with the mental health team.
I welcome you all to join me in my journey of self-discovery and face with me the obstacles I have overcome and still face. As I share for the first time my incredible life story.
Chapter 1 - Living With Bipolar – My Life Story
Chapter 2 - Living With Bipolar – Please Let Him Love Me