Lynette Johns
I started writing a book in 2008, a book I am most probably never going to finish.
When I sat down at my computer all those years ago, the words poured out of me, as if the characters had taken on a life of their own. Every available minute was spent in front of my computer, furiously typing away.
A few months ago, I wrote on Facebook that I have 40 000 words.
But those 40 000 words took years to write, in stops and starts, periods of frenetic writing activity interspersed with months and years of no action.
Looking back, it is clear now that whenever I took to writing my book I was manic. The mania preceded a serious bout of depression, for which I had not sought help.
How was I meant to know that I needed help? My life had always been a roller-coaster – I thought it was normal.
I admit that my reaction to events were often extreme, I would go giddy with delight at something that others would merely smile about. I would be crying over something other people would merely shrug off before moving on.
I also thought in rapid speech, my mind leaping from one thought to the next. My inability to form long-lasting relationships, my reckless abuse of alcohol and my mood swings, from mellow to howling banshee, were all normal – or rather, I thought that was just who I was.
It was in 2011, three years after I started my book, when I realised I needed help. Looking further back, it becomes apparent I should have sought help during the 1990s.
When I eventually saw a psychiatrist, I was at my wits’ end. I had lost control of my life. Everything – work, family and relationships – was in chaos. I was in the depths of depression.
I was admitted to a clinic in early 2011 and diagnosed with bipolar type II. I was confused, angry, relieved, sad and pumped full of drugs. Two months later I changed psychiatrists in the hope of getting a second opinion, a different opinion. But Dr Pieter Cilliers confirmed the diagnosis.
Cilliers is a specialist in bipolar disorders, who combines therapy with medication. He prescribed mood stabilisers, the most common way to treat bipolarity.
“Medicine is essential. It is a biological condition (genetic). Therefore, the treatment is biological,” he says.
Cilliers recently attended a Master’s course at Harvard in New York to increase his knowledge of the illness and stay on the cutting edge of the treatments for it.
He says there is an increase in the number of people being diagnosed with the disease because there is a greater awareness. I was diagnosed around the same time actress Catherine Zeta-Jones revealed she had the disease. She was battling with it, but coping.
I reasoned that if she could do it, so could I.
But I couldn’t do it alone. My family stepped in to help me rebuild my life, and Cilliers has been instrumental in helping bring order to it.
It has been a long and painful process, and even though I am on medication it does not mean I won’t have a relapse.
Of course, my ideal relapse would be to be manic, but when I did relapse about two years ago, it was into a bout of depression brought on by a traumatic experience.
Once again I turned to Cilliers, who put together a plan to get me through the crisis.
He has me on a regimen he says is the ideal way for me to not have a relapse. Ideally, he says, I should get enough sleep, and steer clear of drugs and alcohol, of course. I am also meant to keep away from stress, though that is easier said than done.
I have made peace with myself that I may never finish my book, but I’ll happily trade not finishing my book with being healthy and stable.
l Today is National Bipolar Awareness Day.