Gum on My Shoe

Always Unstable: Bipolar and Hospitalisation: A Memoir is a book that was a long time in the making, 26 years in fact. I started to write it after my second hospitalization within a year. I felt like I had a lot to share, a lot to own up to, and a story to tell that maybe others might find interesting or helpful. I was already running a blog but I wanted to do something more. I had a bigger story to tell, one that couldn’t be contained within a blog post and one that I didn’t want to draw out over a series. The main focus of my book is my five hospitalisations over the last ten or eleven years. Psychiatric hospitalisations. Although I probably don’t need to clarify that. The first one was when I was 15, I had tried to kill myself, unsuccessfully much to my dismay. The second one didn’t come until ten years later, it was soon after I was told that I had Bipolar Disorder. I was hospitalised for a Bipolar mixed episode. Next was the mania and the eating disorder, then the electroconv...

This article has also been published at The Good Men Project . It inspired an exploration of weakness and emotional vulnerability which you can read here . Dear Dad I’m sitting here on a Sunday afternoon in my rocking chair, watching the tennis on television. How many afternoons did you spend like this, watching sport from your armchair? Tennis from Wimbledon, snooker, football on a Saturday. The classified football results became a familiar and comforting litany, though I never understood them. This is how I remember you. In your chair watching television. Benevolent but, like the football results, a mystery to me. What do I know of you; of my father, the man? What were your dreams? Your fears? Your doubts? What did you long for? What did you hate? I don’t think you were deliberately closed to me, but I never asked, and I can’t recall you venturing to share. I know you didn’t share Mum’s religiosity. Her churchgoing. Her faith. I recall one conversation between you. You te...

Three years ago this week, Fran was on board the RMS Queen Mary 2 , en route from New York to Hamburg via Southampton. It was the start of a three month European tour that we knew would seriously challenge her mental and physical health—and our friendship. I tracked the ship’s position and on board webcam several times a day. With each hour that passed, my best friend was closing the three thousand miles that had separated us since we first met online two years before. We were excited at the prospect of meeting face to face in Southampton, but we had never been as out of touch as we were through this week of the crossing. On board internet was prohibitively expensive, so our usual instant messaging, voice, and video calls were out of the question. We had arranged that I would send Fran a single text message each morning and evening, so she did not feel alone and isolated from the outside world, but it was too costly for her to reply. The week at sea was a lesson in trust and a pow...

My friend Victor was someone you didn’t notice. He was quiet and kept to himself. He always seemed pensive and focused. When I caught his eye his face would light up with warm bright eyes and wide smile. It was remarkable. Always kind, gentle, thoughtful, caring. When I was with him it felt like I was on a mountaintop, or some other place magical. One of the most extraordinary humans I’ve ever known.. Brilliant artist.. I wrote those words to a friend before I visited him. She said, Tell him Fran, Tell him.. So I did.. I sat at his feet. He had me move closer. The sea air breezed in. The warmth of the sun couldn’t help itself. It snuck in also. We talked of everything and nothing, just happy to be together. I planned to make him some thick, tasty, nourishing soup. I told him when he gets well, I would love to be his driver to go visit his mum. After an hour I asked if he needed some time before his reiki treatment. We agreed. We kissed. They said he only had 3 days to live. He li...

I don’t have a mental illness…at least not a diagnosed one. But that’s not to say mental illness hasn’t affected my life. My best friend was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and I saw first-hand the difficulties that came with the diagnosis. You might assume that these difficulties were from her internal struggle, trying to cope with the illness. And part of that is true…years after her diagnosis, she still struggles to stay balanced. As hard as that has been, the struggle to get help seemed even greater. It took a long time for my friend Mary (I’m not using her real name) to get help. I knew her long before she started taking medication for bipolar disorder; she was in denial for years. She didn’t have too many close friends, as she was very moody. Some days, she would be full of life and spontaneous, eager to try new things and take on the world. Other days, she would cancel our plans out of the blue. Some of the time, she would give me a fake explanation. “I have to take Max to the...

When I have to look at a person and say, “I’m bipolar”, they get a bemused expression on their face as if they’re waiting for the punchline. That’s all there is to it, and believe me, this is not a joke my friend. I can’t think of many more things as infuriating as someone using a mental illness as an insult. You’re going to hear, “Oh my God! Don’t be so bipolar!” much more than you’re going to get, “Wow, do you have to act so diabetic all the time?” The truth is that many people are bipolar and have done horrible things. Things like theft, murder, even rape. That does not mean that all of us are capable of such unspeakable acts. Hollywood doesn’t help matters at all. Have you ever been using one of the movie streaming services and caught a glimpse of a film that might be interesting? Sure, many people have. How many times have you clicked on the description of that film and discovered that the lead in the story is a horribly insane person, and you guessed it . . . bipolar. What...

At the end of April I realized May would be Mental Health Month. I looked forward to seeing loving energy and attention being brought to those of us who struggle. Inside, my heart leapt. It wanted to contribute. It dawned on me that I could use my words and be vulnerable about things I deal with. I hesitated a bit because frankly that is scary and I would have to be brave. Here are all 31 of my posts gathered in one place. You can click the title of each one to see where I posted it originally on Facebook, and the comments it generated. Fran   Here’s my bit ‪#‎mentalhealthmonth‬ may 1 may is mental health awareness month.. more mind full more heart full less hurt full be.. ‪#‎endthestigma Here’s my bit ‪#‎mentalhealthmonth‬ may 2 Not sure how many of you have noticed, but I have not been posting much lately. When I am not strong I have few words and little faith. I withdraw because I feel no one cares about those more vulnerable. I work hard to stay strong but am ...