Bipolar? Me?

I prefer the term Emotionally action

packed!

Living life with Bipolar Affective Disorder is like

riding a rollercoaster that never stops. Sometimes
it slows down or breaks down for brief periods of
time, but the permanent nature of our disorder
means it stays with us until we take our last
breaths. Bipolar disorder, according to Google, is a
mental condition marked by alternating periods of
elation and depression. This is a hugely simplistic
view but does describe life in general for me since
2006.
Life with Bipolar symptoms is not an easy one.
If you are like me, you were born into a society
that doesnt understand you, a family unprepared

to handle your mood disorder, medical

professionals who are happy to load you with pills,
and a legal system that punishes rather than
protects or rehabilitates you for the mistakes you
make while unwell.
This is my story and it is geared towards people
suffering or wanting to read about Bipolar I
disorder. I would hope that anyone reading this
either relates to my experiences, or learns
something new about an illness that society
doesnt fully understand and barely accepts, even
in the year 2016

I was born in 1988. My mother killed herself in

1993 at the age of twenty six while living in
Australia. As a teenager she was diagnosed with
Bipolar I disorder although they referred to it as
Manic depressive disorder in the mid 1980s in
New Zealand. I grew up in New Zealand with my
fathers mother instead and was surrounded by
that side of my family who did not have nor
understand mental illness.

I was monitored for about eight years as a

child. Doctors in the early 90s warned my
Grandmother that I might exhibit psychotic
symptoms as a young adult and her response was
to mollycoddle me so I was protected from
negative influences.
As a young adult I had some idea that my
mother had mental issues, but I never thought
about the idea that they could genetic.
It was July 2006, just over a decade ago, when
the first manifestation of what I would (one day)
find out was a symptom of my Bipolar disorder hit.
A six month depressive state smacked me in the
face half way through my final year in high school
Depression is a state of low mood and aversion to activity that can affect a person's
thoughts, behavior, feelings and sense of well-being. People with a depressed mood can feel
sad, anxious, empty, hopeless, helpless, worthless, guilty, irritable, angry, ashamed or
restless.

The first thing to go was my outgoing

personality. I withdrew from my friends and family
and stopped leaving the house as often as I usually
did to see films or get coffee. After a few weeks, I
started to hate waking up in the morning and
began to miss classes at school. At first it was one
day a week, then two, then three or four.

One morning my Grandmother knocked on my

door and asked me if everything was alright. I said
I felt like I didnt want to live anymore and that
everything was awful and I felt sad.
She took me to the doctor who prescribed an
anti-depressant that did nothing to help change my
mood. I spent August to November going to school
intermittently, but was able to gain entrance to
University (college) because I had scored so highly
in my internal examinations during the first half of
the year.
I bombed on the final exams except for an
English paper.
School ended in mid-November 2006 and I was
upset that I wasnt enjoying my senior year. I had
waited a long time to experience it, but wasnt able
to fully because my mood was so low.
I thought I would be feeling this way
permanently, but of course, being unknowingly
Bipolar this was not to be; as a few weeks after
school ended I switched into my first hypomanic
state.

Hypomania (literally under mania or "less than mania") is a mood state characterized by
persistent disinhibition and pervasive elevated (euphoric) with or without irritable mood but
generally less severe than full mania. Characteristic behaviors are extremely energetic,
talkative, and confident commonly exhibited with a flight of creative ideas. While hypomanic
behavior often generates productivity and excitement, it can become troublesome if the
subject engages in risky or otherwise inadvisable behaviors.

My initial experience being hypomanic was one

of intense joy. I felt like I was back to myself but
didnt realize that I was more elevated than the 16
year old version of myself I was remembering. It
was summer in New Zealand and I was on the cusp
of starting a degree in Law, Film & Media.
I had quit my part time job at a supermarket
when I became depressed but was hungry for
money again so I phoned my old boss and was
given my position back albeit with different hours.
I was a closeted gay male at this time too, but
the hypomania fixed that. I told almost everybody
who knew me that I was not heterosexual over
every medium you can imagine. I spent months
meeting other men and began and then ended two
separate relationships between December 2006
and March 2007.
I was still hypomanic when I started my degree
in late February and used the lack of sleep and
energy to my advantage. By June 2007 I was in a

long-term relationship with a very nice 17-yearold boy named Johnny. I was also getting solid Bs
for the papers I wrote in school. And Id just
scored a new job at a fashion retail shop, to me at
the time a huge step up from working in a
supermarket. Things were going exactly as I
wanted them to, I was happy, my depression was a
distant memory and my plans for the future were
positive.
Until the other shoe dropped. My mood
changed overnight one day and depression hit me
a second time in July 2007 almost exactly a year to
my first depressive episode.
This time it was more intense because I had
gotten so high and made so many life changes
while hypomanic, that I fell spectacularly hard. As
they say, the higher you go the bigger the fall. I
had just started my second semester at school so
similar to the year before, I eventually stopped
leaving the house to go to class.
Johnny noticed the changes in me immediately
because I went from being fun-loving, impulsive,
energetic and positive to being a quiet, sad hermit

who stayed at home most of the time. We mutually

decided to stop seeing each other around August.
I managed to keep my part time job at the
clothes store during my depressive mood, I was
just not a very good seller while I was depressed. I
went to my doctor a second time and was given a
different type of anti-depressant called Citalopram.
It turned me into a zombie for a few weeks so I
stopped taking it.
I didnt formally withdraw from my classes at
uni either so I was charged in full for them and
theyre still on my academic record today. I passed
all four of my papers in semester one. In semester
two, I failed all three.
In December 2007 after almost six months of
depression, the switch suddenly flipped back and I
was hypomanic again. Or normal, as I saw myself
then.
Within a few weeks I was the top seller at our
store because I was so charming and articulate
and confident again. I was offered a full time
position at work soon after and took that on
instead of doing a summer semester at University.

Our work Christmas party came around and my

ex-boyfriend Johnny, who was working for the
same company at another store, was slated to
come. I had seen him once during my second
depressive episode at Burger King, and nothing
really went down.
I was planning on keeping a distance from
Johnny at the party but when he walked in to the
room I couldnt resist but give him a hug. Within a
few minutes we were kissing on the dance floor,
which led to some more making out in the
bathrooms, and again behind a museum down the
road.
He went home for the night and so did I. In the
morning, we sent messages to each other agreeing
to re-start our relationship. My manager at the
clothing shop contacted me and asked if I would
work that day. I was hungover, but I did anyway.
The next few months were a rush. I moved out
of my Grandmothers house and into a room with
two friends in the city. It was my first taste of
freedom at age 19. I thought I was stable, but I
wasnt. My Hypomania arguably transitioned into a

form of Mania after some months because that is

the first time when my mood started to affect my
life negatively.
Mania is a state of abnormally elevated arousal, affect, and energy level, or "a state
of heightened overall activation with enhanced affective expression together with lability of
affect." Although mania is often conceived as a mirror image to depression, the
heightened mood can be either euphoric or irritable; indeed, as the mania intensifies,
irritability may become more pronounced.

The first impulsive mistake I made while manic

was dumping Johnny over a stupid argument
because I had an idea in my mind that there was
someone much better for me. I feel like I may
have used the argument as a basis for breaking up
with him because I was bored with the
relationship.
He left my apartment crying and I then wrote a
blog detailing all of the bad things hed ever done
to me (but none of the good things), and posted it
online so all of our friends could read it.
I deleted it an hour later when his cousin
rightly convinced me I was being immature, mean
and selfish, but the damage was done.
I lost many of our combined friends, and
Johnny moved on to another guy quickly. Upset
about my relationship, I started taking less care of

myself and my surroundings.

My two friends who controlled the lease in the
apartment I was in gave me two weeks leave
because my room looked like a garbage dump, and
I left within a few hours and moved into my best
friends mothers house instead.
At the same time, the mania was causing me
to be very loud, confident, arrogant and
distracting. I saw some notes my boss wrote about
me at work saying I was an awful distraction to
everyone else. So I quit, and got a job as an
assistant manager of another retail chain. I lasted
eight weeks and quit that job too, after being
offered a third job that was reversed at the last
minute leaving me with no employment to go to.
I applied for about twenty jobs and went on
ten job interviews over a few months and got
nowhere at first.
One morning I got a phone call from the
recruitment agency helping me and she said
Morgan, theres a role in the Kiwibank call centre
you sound perfect for, would you like to interview
for it, its tomorrow.

Yes, I said. I was keen on Kiwibank because

they were known to me more casual than the other
banks in New Zealand. I went to the interview,
nailed it, waited a few days, and was offered a
position as a Customer Service Representative.
I was excited because it was my first non-retail
job and at the time worth $40,000 per annum.
I was hypomanic/manic in my first three weeks
of training, until I became depressed again. For six
months I woke up each morning hating life,
struggled to wash and dress myself, but I dragged
myself into work for nine hours, then came home
and jumped into bed.
The depressive side of me is not fun in any
sense. I wasnt getting any suicidal ideation but I
also didnt feel like living. I was a good, quiet
worker though.
By this time, it had been a few years of mood
swings. I had started to get a sense that my life
was made of up about 6 months of a depressed
mood and 6 months of a good mood.
I still didnt piece together that it was a mood

disorder called Bipolar, nor did my doctor, family or

any of my friends despite my mothers past
history, diagnosis and death. But I knew I would be
in a good mood again eventually.
So rather than being hopelessly depressed in
2008 I just waited for my mood to switch.
Like clockwork, November rolled around. But
this time it wasnt a hypomanic state I came back
into, but full blown mania.
People were describing me as loud, mean,
and intense. I started drinking a lot, missing
work or coming in late, and writing about how I
didnt care about any of it on Facebook.
My manager at work (who had committed
some indiscretions he shouldnt have that I found
out about through someone else), became
concerned at my new behavior and told me that he
was setting up a meeting with human resources
about my tardiness.
Since I was manic at the time and was
basically considering my life as a never ending
episode of Gossip Girl, I chose to take his

suggestion in the most dramatic way possible, like

Blair Waldorf would and threw everything I could
against him so I wouldnt get in trouble myself.
He lost his position but not his job, that same
day. I was meant to keep quiet that I was the one
who caused it but I told a few people, and he
found out it was me who blabbed about the rules
he broke.
By January 2009 I was still manic, but work at
Kiwibank was so intensely awkward with my exboss still around, knowing it was me who ruined
his banking career.
I started to complain to my doctor that I
couldnt sleep properly and was extremely
stressed. He gave me a five day medical certificate
for leave from work and I decided to get on a
plane to Christchurch, New Zealand for a holiday. I
met one of my other ex-boyfriends there who was
moving out of the house three guys were renting,
and his other room-mates asked me if I wanted to
take it.
I returned to Wellington a few days later and
remember feeling an intense anger as soon as I

started walking through the gates at the airport. I

was very emotionally charged and upset at the
situation at work, I was expecting Kiwibank to just
fire my ex-boss so I wouldnt have to deal with the
consequences of my big mouth.
I wrote out my resignation letter with no notice
whatsoever (4 weeks was the minimum), took it to
my new boss in the morning and she just let me
walk out. That was the end of my career with that
company. And it was the best job I ever had too
but I fucked it up completely.
I called my grandmother after I resigned and
we packed a few of my things, and I got on a plane
back to Christchurch.
My mania started to get worse for a few weeks,
and then it calmed down when I decided not to
send a formal letter of complaint to Kiwibank. A
few weeks into living in Christchurch, I met my
now ex-boyfriend Nick and we grew close over the
months I spent there.
I managed to find a new job in another call
centre there and things were okay for a few
months. However, I was flighty and easily bored so

I resigned from that job too, told Nick I was

heading back to Wellington and said goodbye to
Christchurch in May 2009.
I moved back into my Grandmothers house
still in a manic state and spent a week looking for
work before being offered a part time job an hour
out of the city in a call centre.
Manic me is a dick. Three weeks into my new
job I accidentally found out my boss was trying to
figure out a way to get rid of me. I was also
arguing so much with my grandmother that I had
to leave and stay with my Grandfather instead.
Thankfully just before I was let go at my new
job, I switched back to a depressive state and
spent mid-2009 to mid-2010 working well, being
mostly sad the entire time, but not doing anything
stupid.
I would stay at my grandfathers house 4 days
of the week I was working, and on Fridays,
Saturdays and Sundays I would visit my
Grandmother to watch movies or TV shows so
things were okay there too, no arguments.

I was in a low mood for a year. Mid-2010 my

depression slowly changed back into hypomania for
the first time since 2008, so rather than making
sudden life changes like I might as a manic person,
I made new plans and thought them through.
I had some savings behind me and my Aunt
was living in Sydney, Australia so I moved there on
14 July 2010 at the young age of 21 in a relatively
good mood, hopeful about this new country.
As a New Zealand citizen with no criminal
history I was not required to apply for and be
approved for a visa in Australia. I got on a plane
and entered as a resident immediately.
I got my first Australian job by chance. In my
third week there, I spent the day exploring Sydney
city and being too lazy to wait for a bus back to my
Aunts house I instead got my iPhone out and
googled backpacker accommodation.
I walked into Nomads Westend Backpackers
and ended up staying there for six months as well
as working on the front desk as a receptionist
there during night shift. Being hypomanic and
living in a quasi-hotel with three hundred other

young travelers was like a dream come true.

I made friends with literally everyone. Straight
men, straight women, the odd gay guy who would
stay, and all of the long-termers, those like me
who were living at the backpackers semi
permanently. I had fun meeting people from
England, Scotland, Ireland, Canada, The United
States, Germany, Sweden, Poland, Russia, fellow
New Zealanders, the odd Australian and one
hilarious woman from Swaziland.
I thought I had life sorted out by November
2010. I was making $600 Australian dollars a week
and living rent-free in the city surrounded by
attractive and fun foreign friends. I was planning
on staying in Sydney permanently, as Australia
holds a hypnotic attraction to New Zealanders
wanting bigger cities, larger personalities, more
money and heaps of fun.
My illness had a different idea for me though
and smacked me down a peg with a fifth
depressive episode. I remember it well, it was
November 14 2010 and my mood suddenly shifted.
I reduced my work hours from 5 to 3 days a week,

barely left my double room to see anyone, and

started to feel unattractive, unappealing, and
boring.
Suddenly being around so many people caused
me to feel anxious rather than excited. Instead of
dealing with my depressive mood, I gave two
weeks notice to my boss, Renee, and I left the
country on 14 December 2010.
I flew into Wellington and sat in a taxi who
took me back to my Grandmothers house. It was
becoming clear to me by this point that I enjoyed
staying with her when I was in low moods, but
knew Id grow bored of her house any other time.
I spent ten months in New Zealand
unemployed and sad, wishing I felt well enough to
restart my life in Australia but being unable to. I
didnt see a doctor and I did not apply for welfare.
I would have been eligible for the
Unemployment benefit or the Sickness benefit had
I knew I was Bipolar and got a diagnosis, but I was
so dejected and anxious I considered it too
stressful walking into Work and Income to ask for
money. I lived off savings.

During my depression I started dabbling in

making money online. In August 2011 I figured out
a way to monetize a blog I was running by selling
niche videos on it.
I went from making $0 a week to $1000
almost overnight and between August and October
2011 I was able to pay off money I owed
Australian companies, as well as save up enough
to get a new iPhone for myself and then make
plans to move back to Sydney, Australia where I
believed I could find happiness.
In October my depression switched into
hypomania as I thought it would so I left New
Zealand on October 19 2011 for Sydney hoping to
replicate my old life.
I hit a couple of road bumps. The new manager
at the backpackers wasnt fun and she didnt care
about me like Renee did, and all of my foreign
friends had left the country. Rather than stay in
Sydney, I instead decided to move to Melbourne
and stay at a backpackers owned by the same
company as the one in Sydney. My old assistant
manager had transferred there and one of my

close online friends, Simon, lived there. So I

thought why not and made the move.
Hypomanic states are full of entertainment and
slight euphoria. I met a lot of Australians and
foreigners in Melbourne and went out almost every
night, spending the money I had been making
online.
January 12 2012 was not a good day, because
thats when Kim Dotcoms website
MegaUpload.com was seized by the FBI and shut
down. I was working for a rival file sharing site and
PayPal immediately blocked all file sharing sites so
I lost sixty percent of my weekly income as visitors
to my site were only able to pay via credit card.
Panic. I was in a foreign country with not much
income, ineligible for centrelink but also refused to
go back to New Zealand.
I got an interview at a recruitment company
who organized a group interview for me at one of
the big four banks in Australia. It was compelling
to me because I had regretted leaving Kiwibank in
2008 and wanted to restart my banking career. I
got the job and was offered a higher pay rate than

I remembered in 2008 ($47,000 vs $40,000 per

annum).
I began working at the bank in late February
2012 and a full time schedule for the first time
since 2010 seemed to dampen my hypomania. I
was very happy to be working full time in a job I
liked, that reminded me of a job I once lost yet
always wanted, in a foreign country as a noncitizen surrounded by new things and people. That
was the life I wanted for myself.
I had two months of stability.
Enter depression. Exit Australia.
I arrived back in Wellington, again, on April 29
2012. Like the previous time I left Australia, I did
not see a doctor, figure out I had Bipolar, or apply
for income support. I simply lived off my savings a
second time. I did not apply for any work. I could
not re-start my online business.
This depression was a long one. I stayed home
and ignored almost everyone from May 2012 to
June 2013, and June 2013 is when things began to
unravel and get really bad for me. It would only be

10 weeks after my depression disappeared that I

would be diagnosed with Bipolar affective disorder
at a Melbourne psychiatric hospital.
New Zealand citizens living in Australia are
given a temporary visa, that has no time limit.
An oxymoron. The visa doesnt allow for citizenship
or government services, ever. I knew this and
wanted to become a permanent resident so,
when my Mania returned in June 2013 I got on a
plane to a tiny remote Australian Island called
Norfolk Island.
At the time, New Zealand citizens were able to
apply for residency there immediately and then fly
to Australia as a Norfolk Islander and gain a
permanent visa on arrival.
I arrived on Norfolk Island in a very manic
state on 30 June 2013. I had $7500 in my bank
account but no plans to get a job or what I would
do if my money ran out. I organized my own
house, bank account and healthcare. I walked into
Immigration there on my second day, applied for
residency, paid the $120 and 14 days later it was
granted. But in that time, my Mania went out of

control.
I started to get paranoid that the government
was watching me. I got so paranoid that I left
Norfolk Island (and all of my possessions) and flew
back to Melbourne with just one bag holding my
laptop, phone, wallet and passport, because I
thought I needed to be in a large city to avoid
detection. At the age of 24 and within days of
returning to Melbourne, I transitioned from Mania
to Psychosis.
Psychosis: a severe mental disorder in which thought and emotions are so impaired that
contact is lost with external reality.

The first time I remember having psychotic

thoughts was when I was still well enough to stay
at a hotel without causing any concern. An asian
man checked in to my room and said hello to me.
Hes been sent to kill me, I thought. He
seemed like a friendly person but I had an idea in
my head that he was an assassin hired from the
dark-web (silk road) sent to murder me. I sat
down on my bed and wondered what to do. I had
to leave but I didnt want him to think I knew he
was a killer so I made polite conversation before
announcing I needed to use the bathroom. I

grabbed my bag and left.

Later that day I forgot about the entire thing
and checked into a room at some different hostel. I
remember asking to stay in a dorm with
American or English backpackers. When I
arrived, no-one was in the room. I set up my
laptop and phone chargers and went onto
Facebook for a few hours.
Around five oclock or so, I started getting
paranoid again, that the government was watching
me. I looked out the window and thought someone
in another building was pointing a laser sniper at
me so I closed the curtains, and then noticed some
guy had left his UK passport on his bed. I opened it
and saw that we looked similar.
Within ten minutes I was packed, and with a
stolen passport, on my way to the airport to flee
to Europe because I had a new delusion I was
Edward Snowden and needed to get out of
Australia for government protection for some
reason.
I got into the city and then quickly figured out
I wasnt Edward Snowden and that I shouldnt

have this persons passport on me, so I put it in a

bag and left it outside of a Subway store for some
reason then headed to a gym. An hour later I got
a phone call from the backpackers asking me to
come back immediately.
Half an hour went by before I arrived back to
an extremely pissed off British guy asking where
his property was. I had forgotten where Id
dumped it so the police were called and I drove
around the city with two cops for about twenty
minutes looking for the passport.
The officers told me if I couldnt find it within
half an hour they were going to arrest me and
charge me with theft. We found it in time and I
gave it back to the guy and apologized. The police
left without charging me.
I was rightly kicked out of that backpackers so
I checked into a third one without incident. That
night one of my friends from Melbourne, Davide,
asked me to come over for dinner at his parents
house. I agreed and his mother cooked a nice
meal. While I was at his house, I had this delusion
in my mind that I was his brother and his mothers

son, and that I was adopted out as a baby, but was

now home.
Thankfully I didnt articulate any of this, just
thought it. Davide and his family didnt notice
anything unusual about me. I got a train back to
the backpackers a few hours later and went to
sleep.
The next day I woke up late. I saw a message
from a guy I knew and had spoken to on Facebook
over the years. He wanted me to come and hang
out. So I organized a private room for us and we
spent the night together. I remember telling him
that the government was after me and to be
careful around me for his own protection. He
probably thinks Im crazy now.
In the following few days my connection to
reality eventually disappeared completely. I
thought that every single person I saw that I had
met in real life was related to me somehow and
that all of my friends and family were on their way
to Melbourne for a meeting to talk about me and
my state of mind.
I thought my grandmother in New Zealand was

a vampire and that it might be possible that I was

pregnant. I walked into a few shops and tried on
some womens clothing and toyed with the idea of
becoming female. I did not have any desire to be
transgender or identify as a female previously, this
was all new.
Sometime later I went back to Davides house
to give back his fathers jacket I had accidentally
taken. Him being a nurse noticed this time that I
was manic and told me to get a taxi to a crisis
center, which I did. They printed a map out for me
to find emergency accommodation, it was getting
dark at that point though so while using the map I
got lost.
I had a black bag with my at the time holding
my Macbook Pro, Macbook Air, iPad, iPhone 4s and
a new iPhone 5 Telstra had given me on a 24
month contract a few days earlier, along with my
wallet and NZ passport. At around 1am I came
across a large house that looked like it could be a
backpackers.
I crawled underneath the iron gate enclosing
the property and wandered around the backyard

for a while. In my psychotic mind, I decided it

looked almost exactly like my Grandmothers
house in NZ and started to make false connections
to objects.
There was a motorbike leaning on the house
and I was like Ah, thats my Uncles. Some of the
windows were scorched though, and it made me
think the house was on fire, so I tried to open the
back door so I could rescue everyone. After a few
minutes of failing to get inside, I set my black bag
down and left so I could find somewhere to sleep. I
had a sleep underneath a church in St Kilda and
woke up around 5am, making my way back to that
house to pick up my stuff.
When I arrived back, two people who own or
live in the house saw me re-enter from a window
and yelled at me to leave. I was really surprised
and scared so I bolted, leaving behind my
property. I ran quickly down the next street and
fell over, cutting my knee open. Half an hour later I
forgot completely about what had happened and
also that I had no phones or money or I.D. on me
so from that moment I was officially off the grid
and a missing person.

The next few weeks are a slight blur. I have

most memory intact but sometimes I cant place
them in chronological order, so I will just write as if
I can. For about 14 days I had no access to regular
food, water, shelter or money. I would cycle in and
out of different delusions. One hour I thought I
was on my way to Hogwarts. The next hour I
thought I was a character in a Final Fantasy game.
I was walking around Melbourne suburbs at night
thinking I was actually in Sydney, and looked for
hours for my Aunts house in Ryde, NSW but
obviously, didnt find it.
I walked into Southern Cross Station and with
no money, somehow boarded a train that took me
more than three hours and 326 kilometers out of
the city to a city called Albury. I only just realized
from seeing the below picture that I crossed state
lines into New South Wales. Wow.

I remember the ticket inspector but I dont

remember him asking to see my ticket, I was not
kicked off and just waited until I got to the last
stop before departing. I was talking to a man on
the train who may or may not have been a
hallucination, because when we got off the train I
walked with him to his house so he could pick up a
few things before taking me to the main shopping
center of whatever suburb I was in to go clubbing.
I walked with him the whole way but I wasnt let in
to a bar because I had no passport or drivers
license as proof of my age.
I spent that night making friends with random
drunk people coming in and out of clubs and

restaurants. I asked a few girls if I could try on

their high heels. Most said no. I was given some
hot chips by some guy eating on an outdoor dining
area outside of a restaurant. I called a girl by her
name without hearing it first and she asked me
how I knew her name. I was like, I dont know. I
gave one other girl my jacket because she was
cold, and then got it back a few hours later which
was good because it was in July (winter in
Australia).
I remember walking into a small caf that night
thinking it was going to blow up, so I went into the
(female) bathroom and wrapped toilet paper
around my arms and legs, wet my face and then
warned everyone about an explosion that never
happened.
I fell asleep on a bench that night and slept all
day the next day so when I woke up it was dark
again. I walked back to the train station I came
from but it was dead so I went the other way down
some dark streets.
I had this idea that the characters in The
Vampire Diaries were hosting a party for me in a

fancy house that was also in my name because I

deserved my own house after years of being
relatively broke. I could hear the party in the
distance and was excited for it, but I looked and
looked and never saw a house with any people or
bright lights and balloons.
A few hours later I all of a sudden got the idea
in my mind that zombies were coming for me so I
opened an unlocked black car parked in a drive
way and hid inside it for about an hour. Then I
forgot about the zombies, and got out. I opened
the garage of the same house and put the radio
on. No one must have been home because I left
without incident.
I cant remember where I slept that night. I
woke up in the early afternoon the next day and
walked around until I found an electronics shop. I
think it was called the Good guys. I assumed that
my grandfather owned it, so I walked in and filled
up a trolley with all kinds of shit then tried to walk
out with it. I was asked to stop and put everything
back so I agreed and by the time I was done with
that the police arrived and asked me what I was
doing.

I cant remember what I said, but they didnt

charge me and I think they drove me back to
Melbourne city because theres no other way I
could have gotten back and I dont remember
taking a train.
Back in the city, I continued aimlessly
wandering around day and night. I entered a bar
on a Friday night and was convinced that the
barwoman was my 46 year old Aunty from Sydney,
or at least a version of her, so I asked her many
questions about where she was born etc.
She didnt seem to mind, and I helped her
close the bar and organise the bar stools, then
went on my way. I left the bar with some young
girls and they yelled at me to walk in another
direction. I thought one of them was my cousin
and I was like Okay Johanna, whatever you say!,
she was like My name is not Johanna!. I ran
down a few streets and found a pay phone. I rang
000 for an Ambulance and said I felt hurt. It
came sometime later and I was driven to a
hospital.
I was seen by a doctor or a nurse and then left

in the waiting room for what felt like hours. I got

so impatient that I took a few blankets and walked
out.
The next day two policemen found me, I cant
remember what I said to them exactly but they
took into a sealed room and locked me in there for
a few hours. They also interviewed me and
recorded it because I could see my reflection in the
camera. I was able to make a phone call and rang
my Grandfather in NZ but he didnt tell anyone I
had called, so I was still missing to the rest of my
family. The cops let me go without any charges.
That night I ended up on a highway. At the end
of the highway was a huge glass building with
gambling machines in it and a stage for live music
plus a food bar. I was let in and I thought I saw my
Melbourne friends Jordan and Simon playing
pokies. I dont believe they were actually there so
it was either a hallucination or real people who I
thought looked just like them. I sat down next to a
50-year-old woman to watch a band play music.
She asked me if I had eaten lately and I said I had
not so she took me to the bar and asked them to
give me two plates of soup for free, so that was

my first meal in days.

Once my stomach was quenched, I suddenly
felt like the whole building would erupt in flames so
I ran out and down the highway. A few hours later
I was back in Melbourne city and used a payphone
again to call an ambulance. The second hospital I
got to, appeared to admit me because I was given
a bed and some sandwiches.
I spoke with a woman about my residency
status and what options I had for housing but she
left, and I was not given any medication to stop
my psychosis. I wasnt diagnosed with Bipolar
affective disorder either. I also thought that
hospital was going to explode in a ball of flames so
I spilt litres of water all over myself in front of
nurses and people visiting their family. The next
day I walked out of hospital.
That night I got into a mans car because I
wanted to be driven to a police station. I had no
idea what was wrong with me, or what was
happening but I knew I needed somewhere to stay.
I asked the cops there if I could spend the night
and they said I could not and to leave. My

Grandmother in New Zealand rang them because

she had no idea where I was and they told her
they recalled me, and that I seemed retarded.
I had no plan or purpose. I completely lost the
ability to reason, think and take care of myself. I
had no self-awareness, I was like an infant in the
body and brain of an adult. I kicked off my shoes
and socks in the middle of the road because I
believed the devil was controlling me through
them.
It all came to a head when, during the day, I
jumped onto a metal skip floating in the Yarra river
that collects rubbish I suppose. I tried to untie it
and sail off into the sea. Someone called the police
and they arrived and convinced me to get off.
There was a large crowd of people watching me. I
tried to leave but the female cop grabbed me and
took me to the Alfred psychiatric ward.
I was detained as an Involuntary Patient and
diagnosed with Bipolar Affective Disorder and given
heavy anti-psychotic medication that took weeks to
fully calm down my paranoia. My original diagnosis
included Schizophrenia as well because I was

expressing paranoid delusions and talking about

auditory and visual hallucinations that my
psychosis caused, but this was later removed once
doctors were sure I was just a Bipolar I patient
with temporary psychotic symptoms.
I spent six weeks recovering in hospital in
Melbourne and had four visitors, but one guy who
came almost every day, Nick. He provided
everything I needed like material things such as
clothes, junk food, phone credit and money. I
appreciate his kindness so much.
As I was a non-citizen in Australia and not
eligible for public housing or the sickness
allowance, I returned feeling broken and
humiliated to New Zealand to my Grandmothers
house. The Alfred hospital in Melbourne got in
touch with a Wellington early intervention
treatment service for people who have experienced
psychosis.
Within days of returning I received a call from
them to start my treatment. I have a doctor who I
see once a month and a social worker who comes
to my house every two weeks. For the first time in

my life I applied at Work and Income for a benefit.

The Jobseeker Support payment is also used for
people who have a temporary illness that is a
barrier to full time work.
I was prescribed 20mg of Olanzapine (Zyprexa)
in September 2013 and really wish I hadn't been.
Within two weeks I developed an intense social
anxiety, which was odd for an extrovert like me to
experience. It was much more powerful than
simple depression I had experienced in the past. I
thought I was just broken. From October 2013 to
December 2015 I avoided almost all people and
social situations.
The Olanzapine had the effect of turning me
into a zombie who couldn't string together
sentences so I just felt anxious whenever people
tried to talk to me, and go quiet. It also made me
sleep sixteen hours a day, removed my sex drive
completely, my ability to feel pleasure, or any
emotion and made me go from being a slim 60
kilograms to a chubby 80.
From 2014 to mid-2015 Work and Income left
me alone. The only thing I had to do is fill out and

take in a three month medical certificate. I would

get letters once and a while claiming I would have
to make myself "ready for work" and attend certain
seminars but that never happened.
There is a stigma attached to being on a
benefit/welfare. And it is awkward to tell people I
am on the "jobseeker support" so I, like most, just
still refer to it as the "sickness benefit". The $225
per week doesn't go very far but I appreciate living
in a first world country that doesn't just let me
starve so I won't complain.
Under pressure from many people to "get a
job" I applied for and was accepted as a part time
checkout operator at the local New World I
originally worked at as a teenager in 2005, in
November 2015. At first I enjoyed it but after a
few weeks I started to notice an increase in my
anxiety and would panic a day before and on the
day when I was working.
I did it for 6 months and slowly reduced my
hours in an effort to keep the job but in the end I
resigned. My doctor was slowly reducing my
medication but not quick enough to satisfy me. The

first emotion that came back from a smaller dose

of pills, was anger. I was starting to get pissed off
with my boring personality and life.
In January 2016 I made a decision not to take
Olanzapine anymore. I knew it wasnt
recommended but I was feeling borderline suicidal
on it and I felt like I had no other choice. I wanted
to live again. Not just exist. So I just stopped cold
turkey without telling anyone, and yes I went
through withdrawals but they soon passed.
I dont recommend this to anyone as we are all
different but it was a choice I alone made for
myself. To avoid doubt, I am now on a different
less severe anti-psychotic sedative and also a
mood stabilizer but more on that in a bit.
After I came off Olanzapine, I lost 75 percent
of my two year weight gain over six months which
increased my confidence. My anxiety slowly faded
and then quickly disappeared completely. My sleep
went from 16 to 12 to 8 to 6 hours a night.
I was able to experience happiness again and
found myself finding things to do that were
entertaining. I quit smoking and switched to e-

cigarettes. But most importantly, my view of the

future switched back to pre-psychosis in that it was
positive.
I have goals now, I applied and been accepted
to study at Massey University beginning November
for summer school. I plan to major in public policy
and am very much looking forward to it.
My time at the early intervention service was
meant to come to an end at the three-year
anniversary of my psychosis which is September
23 2016. But being off medication for half a year
took over me. By June 2016 I was back in a
hypomanic state. After three years of being
depressed and anxious I was ready to experience
life again, and this time, knowing full well that I
was Bipolar and might be able to control it, reveled
in my elevated mood for a few weeks just because
I could.
I went out every night, moved out of my
grandmothers into a backpackers in the city,
started drinking again, met new and old friends at
any possible chance, signed up at a gym, applied
for customer service jobs only to turn them all

down, joined a political party, spent thousands of

dollars of my savings, and just became much more
confident and eloquent.
I was aware of my behavior most of the time
and eventually got concerned that I was becoming
or about to become too manic. So I told my doctor
in late July 2016 that I had stopped taking my
medication since January and he quickly figured
out the reason why I was acting different in front
of him now compared to a year or two years ago.
My doctor and social worker and psychologist
all teamed up to convince me to go back onto
medication. They collectively decided to extend my
care indefinitely until Im stable. Its not a
compulsory service but Im not going to say no to
free healthcare.
My team suggested I stay for a week at a
respite/recovery house in late July as a way for me
to calm down and control my sleep. My doctor
agreed that Olanzapine wasnt a good drug for me;
suggesting a combination of Seroquel
(Quetiapine), and 1200mg of Lithium instead.
I agreed to this and my psychologist drove me

to the respite house as I do not have a vehicle. It

was relaxing, but boring. The Wifi was terrible, I
hated the food and ordered pizza every night. I
was happy to leave when I did, about three weeks
ago.
Its been about a month now on my new
medications, and Im curious to see how my mood
shifts if at all. I seem to not be manic or depressed
anymore which is a feeling I havent experienced in
11 years, my doctor thinks Im hovering between
being euthymic (normal), and hypomanic but he
has only known the depressed version of me so
there is a bit of bias there.
I have no problem taking these medications
because neither of them turn me into a living dead
person like Olanzapine did for two years and six
months or so.
The goal is balance and I hope I can find a
balance now after spending a decade of my life like
a lost sheep, unaware of what was really wrong
with me. Do I regret all of the things Ive done and
the choices Ive made while Manic? No. But there
are a lot of things I wish had never happened, and

some that Im glad did happen so its a bit of a

double edged sword.
The hypomanic/manic version of me is the
most creative and full of life, but with the mania
comes intense agitation and anger. Technically the
good and the bad is all just a symptom of an
illness, which is depressing to actually think about.
However, I feel quite alert and mostly happy in a
non-disordered state currently so I am cautiously
optimistic to see whether I can stay in one place,
get a fucking education, enter into a healthy longterm relationship, get married, get a proper job
one day and stick to it, and be a happy, caring,
honest, loyal and fun person without the
extremities. I hope I dont fall into depression
while Im trying to study again because I would
rather not be limited to unskilled labor or
government support for the rest of my life.
I wouldnt press a reset button and live life
again, all I can really do is take care of myself with
the proper support, medication and attitude.
morgan.blake.mail@gmail.com ^_^