To some extent yes I have always been crazy, however I was good a hiding it.  I think in reality I’d started to become seriously mentally unstable around 2005 but being the trooper I am I ignored it and continued down the rabbit hole of self destructive behaviour. In 2007 I had the year from hell – two family members died very suddenly.  I had an accident which caused internal bleeding and I suffered heart failure, got zapped back, got a blood transfusion, had reaction and heart stopped again then found out I had cancer of the womb so at 33 lost my ability to have kids.  I also in the middle of that found out I was a haemophiliac.

Did I seek assistance for an every increasing lose of my ability to mentally cope with my life?   Hell no I enrolled in a Post Graduate Degree in Psychology travelling 1 hour each way to go to classes 3 days a week and spent my spear time helping care for my demented alcoholic grandfather.  Eventually I sort of broke and had a massive depressive episode and for 3 days didn’t get out of bed.  My then doctors solutions was prozac at a level hight enough to turn me into an emotional zombi but at least I could go back to university and finish my exams but of corse I didn’t tell the university I was being heavily medicated, I mean goddess forbid I appeared to be anything other than “perfectly normal”.

I stayed on the Prozac for 2 years while I again moved from one end of the country to the other, worked a really shitty job under a psychopathic manager and put up with warring housemates then decided I didn’t need it any more and just stopped taking it.  Apparently that was not a good idea but since I’d changed doctors 4 times by this point the new doctor didn’t even know I was on prozac.  Predictably when I felt stressed out about my job and housing situation I moved (again) back north supposedly to be closer to family.  Worked short term contracts, moved in and out of rental accommodation or slept on peoples lounges.  Then I did the ultimate in stupidity for a mentally ill person I took job working in Construction on a Fly-In-Fly-Out  (FIFO) project an industry with the highest mental health and suicide rates in the world.  My roster was a 21 days on 7 days off – meaning for 19 days straight I worked 10 to 14 hours a day, had 1 day to travel home, partied hard for my 7 days off, 1 day to travel back, then 19 days started again and I did it for 2 years.  When the contracts dried up and I got made redundant I took off and traveled throughout the USA and UK solo for 6 weeks with very little planning and no support network should anything have happened.

After my travels through USA/UK I had the game plan to take a casual job and work on fixing some heath issues I was developing.  Naturally that didn’t happen and I took a full time job in and industry undergoing big changes so there was lots of work and stress and no holidays because I was going back to the UK later that year.  My UK trip happened and was fun but jam packed doing stuff I never just stopped and did nothing.  However once I go back from the UK in late 2015 I physically broke, all my joints became swollen, my white blood cell count dropped, my heart beat became irregular and so on.  Being me I changed doctors which turned out to be a good thing for once because my new doctor took me off everything including my daily painkiller addiction, detoxed my system and quickly figured out my problem was actually a physical manifestation of server mental distress.

Predictably I did things the wrong way around and have managed to confuse the mental health system.  I skipped the full break down requiring hospitalisation, then get put on a waiting list for a psychologist, who will then recommend you need to see a psychiatrist and so on and so forth.  Through a friend who not only suffers her own mental health issues but works in the industry I found an excellent psychiatrist got my doctor to send a referral and had an appointment a week later.  That was back in March 2016 when I naively believed that I’d see the psychiatrist 1 or 2 times, get put on medication and continue to live my life in the crazy way I’d always lived it.

It’s now mid October and if I’m really lucky I’ll start new meds on Monday that might help or might make me totally manic.  Either way my life is now drastically changed for every – no more changing doctors, no more crazy work contracts, no more stopping meds because I think I don’t need them anymore but most drastically no more running way it’s time to face the music and settle down.

Some days I’m ok with that and other days the tune sounds a lot like this.