Robert shares his experiences of living with rapid cycling bipolar disorder for 28 years. His mental health improved drastically when he took part in an experimental treatment programme. He's playing his part in making the case for more funding for mental health research, as we simply don't know enough.
[Content warning: this blog references suicidal thoughts]
We've sorted mental health, haven't we? Stigma has been blown out the water by celebrities telling us 'it's ok not to be ok'. We have 'parity of esteem' with physical health, apparently, with the government investing record-breaking sums in mental health services. And now 'we all have mental health' – we're all on the spectrum. It's ok, now, to talk about feelings and stuff, like being sick of lockdown. So, we can pack up and go home, right?
No, not at all. The battle with mental illness has only just begun.
Psychiatry and psychology are at the foothills of their understanding of the human brain, way behind physical health medicine. Treatments are often inadequate and only partially effective. We need a step-change in investment in research to develop new, effective treatments. This is what MQ is campaigning for. The case is compelling. Many people are affected by common mental health problems, and people with severe mental illness endure terrible suffering.
Psychiatry and psychology are at the foothills of their understanding of the human brain, way behind physical health medicine.
Stigma has more or less gone from some mental illnesses, such as anxiety and depression. But I think there remains an invisible wall preventing our society from doing the right thing for those suffering from the most severe of untold, hidden mental anguish. This wall is the limits of human empathy.
It's easy to imagine the pain of a broken leg. Equally, we can all feel the tragedy of a young mum dying from cancer. But none of us – except those with schizophrenia – can genuinely empathise with someone hearing voices. Why? Because it's outside our everyday human experience. We can only imagine, not viscerally feel, the real horror of those delusions. We can never step inside another person's disordered mind. We can only empathise with things we can realistically imagine happening to our loved ones or us from within our own range of mental experience. Severe mental illness is way beyond that range for all of us unless we've experienced it ourselves.
But I'm pretty confident if everyone could put on that 'bipolar' or 'schizophrenia' VR headset, we'd see exponential growth in investment by the government and the public overnight. People could transport themselves, for example, to the world I've lived in most of my adult life, which I now call 'hell on earth'. I lived in this cruel and barren place from the age of 19, when I developed rapid cycling bipolar disorder.
But I'm pretty confident if everyone could put on that 'bipolar' or 'schizophrenia' VR headset, we'd see exponential growth in investment by the government and the public overnight.
Ever since then, my moods have continuously 'cycled': going up for ten days and then down for ten days, virtually without fail, a never-ending rollercoaster of emotions. I would be depressed and crippled with social anxiety when down, unable to speak up in work meetings or enjoy my children's birthdays. I could barely function at work, spending half my working life in depression, much of it fantasising about jumping from the nearest office windows to my death. I searched desperately for effective treatment, but my efforts were in vain.
Then, a year-and-a-half ago, I was prescribed by the Maudsley an experimental treatment for rapid cycling, a calcium channel blocker often used for high blood pressure. For reasons I don't understand, and research psychiatrists only partially understand, it fixes some of the broken biological mechanisms in my brain. It took me into a beautiful new world, the real world, within a matter of weeks. I was finally able to enjoy a good, stable mood, like so many others. It felt like rising to the surface of the water, gasping for breath, after nearly drowning. It's taken some getting used to, I can tell you. But it's great. You guys in the real world don't know how lucky you are – and you can't truly imagine what this experience was like. You can't experience such extremes of mood because you are incapable of experiencing them – your brain works too well.
It felt like rising to the surface of the water, gasping for breath, after nearly drowning.
It's a shame it took me 28 years to get there. It would be a long wait for a hip operation, but I'm just thankful for being better – for most people with severe mental illness, that time hasn't arrived.
We must create among people hope that researchers will find more effective treatments for common and severe mental illnesses. By lighting up the research path ahead, illuminating the future of effective treatments for mental illness, we can transform our understanding of mental illness – and enable people to see that science will find the answers. This will replace the psychiatrist’s chair, the stereotype of popular Freudian imagination, with the emerging science of the brain. I, and no doubt others, are tantalising glimmers of hope, a taste of future breakthroughs that I have, no doubt, will come in time – and with funding.
By lighting up the research path ahead, illuminating the future of effective treatments for mental illness, we can transform our understanding of mental illness – and enable people to see that science will find the answers.
If you want to see a brighter future where mental illnesses a better understood, effectively treated and one day prevented, make a donation today.
