Tales from a Bruised Mind

*This post references severe mental illness, including psychosis, anxiety and depression*

It was early one Sunday morning in March, 2019. I rang the police because I was incredibly paranoid. I thought people were going to come after me and my family.

But no police or ambulance came. I was confused, and lost, and terrified. I went walkabout in the early hours of the morning. I walked barefoot for around two kilometres, searching for help.

A man was standing by his car on the side of the road. I asked him for help. He lunged at me and I ran off. I couldn’t work out why I was feeling this way.

I felt so wired up, so alive. I felt like I was the most important person on Earth on that day. I felt as if nothing could go wrong, and that I was powerful and unstoppable.

But I also felt like I was Truman from the Truman Show. I felt like people were watching me and my every move.

It was a tragedy.

At the time, I had never heard of the word psychosis. I had heard the word ‘psycho’ but I never understood what that really meant. When I was driven to hospital by my girlfriend’s Dad later that morning, I began to realise something was very, very wrong.

There were no beds at the PA Hospital when I got there. I was led into a short stay ward where I stayed on my bed for two days, waiting for help. I remember my Mum coming in and holding my hand, helping me to be strong and courageous.

They transferred me to the Logan Hospital, south of Brisbane, where I was put in a locked psychiatric ward. I still didn’t understand exactly why I was there.

I missed my girlfriend and my family. My Mum and Dad drove down to visit me. I told them everything would be okay. Eventually, I got leave from hospital and was able to go home to spend time with my parents. I remember having a beautiful dinner, and then I had to get back in the car and go back to that horrible, nasty ward.

Mum said it was so hard to have to leave me there, time and time again.

I was just 20 years old, and I ultimately felt my life was over.

And to some degree, it was. My life would never be the same again.

When I was officially discharged from the Logan Hospital, I went home and was connected with a great team from Metro South Mental Health. They saved me. They also told me I had early psychosis, where you lose touch with reality and suffer really terrible delusions.

It was a manic episode, and the first of several for me.

How I got out of this mess

But somehow, and in some strange way, I managed to pull through. I committed myself to getting better. I forgot about my job and focused all of the energy I had left to fix myself and make my life worth living. I spent countless hours doing therapy and relapse prevention training. I worked with a dietician, a psychologist, a psychiatrist and even occupational therapists to get my life back to what I call my ‘baseline’.

The doctors even had to work out what my baseline was, and what was ‘normal’ for me. I hate using the word normal, but you get what I mean.

But they also told me that this could happen again, and again, and again. There was no cure for me. I began my journey with anti-psychotic medications, which helped me significantly.

…

April 1st, 2019.

I turned 21 years old, but I felt like my brain was 40. The doctors said I shouldn’t go to places with big crowds, and that I definitely shouldn’t have a 21st birthday party. But I felt good, so why not?

We decided to go ahead with the party, and, after feeling so incredibly shit for a long period of time, it was incredibly heartwarming and emotional to see around 70 of my closest and dearest friends celebrate with me at Mum and Dad’s house.

We laughed, we danced, and we cried. It was one of those nights I will never, ever forget.

For a split second, I thought my life was normal again. Back to baseline. And it was.

And although things would deteriorate again in the future, that night I felt myself. I felt loved and accepted. And the best bit, hardly anyone could tell my brain was severely bruised and traumatised.

March 2019 was a traumatic moment in time for me and remains in the back of my mind as my great big downfall. I’ll never forget it.

You will never forget your first episode, that’s for sure.

But I guess the motto of this story is that there is always hope, even in the darkest and quietest of moments. You can live a good life. I’m still here, even despite everything that went down.

Just remember, listen to your body, take things easy, get professional support if needed and, always, speak up and connect with your loved ones.

If I can do it, so can you. Believe in yourself.

Love,

Zak