Tales from a Bruised Mind

Like pretty much every person on this Earth, I often find myself thinking and reflecting on the past. I think a lot about what my life would have been like without severe mental illness, whether or not it would have been better, or worse. Sometimes, I transport myself back all that way and, very obviously, understand there is absolutely nothing I can do about what has already happened. That’s life, after all!

But somewhere deep within, I believe that every person’s life has a trajectory, whether we like to believe it or not.

We can dream and we can reminisce. I can’t help but sometimes want to be back at a time when I was a young kid and had very little worries about the world. I feel like going back there would be good. Simple. Happy. Uncomplicated.

But, as I’ll try to describe in this blog post, things stand out to me now about my health back then that simply snowballed into who and what I am today. There were a lot of tough times, mental health disaster or not.

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My earliest memories of being on this Earth are very positive ones, but from the get-go, I was always worried about what people thought about me, I felt anxious a lot and I didn’t ever feel confident speaking up in group situations, like throughout my schooling.

I always felt a little held back by my thoughts and my brain and I would often find myself worrying about everything in an endless cycle. In other words, anxiety 101.

These traits and feelings would be a guiding force for me through most of my young and adolescent life, but not in a way I would have ever hoped.

As I describe in my book, A Ballad From a Bruised Brain, I had a few fears as a kid, with two of those being 1. flying and 2. going to the toilet.

My earliest memories of actually feeling anxious takes me to somewhere around 2005, the very first time I sat my bum in an airplane seat. I remember it was a trip to New Zealand with my family. I recall even now just how nervous I was – I had such intense ‘butterflies’ in my stomach. I felt that I was going to be sick. The feeling was nauseating, but also a bit scary for a young Zak.

After a few flights, it became apparent to me that the sore stomach would go away while we were airborne and at cruising speed, and then again once we landed.

Because I was so anxious of flying, I never slept on the plane. I felt constantly uncomfortable. Most of all, I thought we were seconds from crashing at pretty much all times. That sucked. You can imagine then that flying the long haul and always being worried about piercing through the air at 35,000 feet and around 900km/h for 12 hours wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.

In regards to my toilet adventures, I was never a fan of the number 2’s. Not sure why, but I just hated going to the toilet. I didn’t go for so long that my bowel wasn’t working properly (I’m sorry if you are eating breakfast/lunch/dinner while reading this). After taking a bucket-load of laxatives,I was back on the straight and narrow. But this was clearly a form of anxiety, too.

So other than stomach butterflies when flying, resisting going to the toilet was another physical response from my brain to the rest of my body. These were pretty early signs, but I somehow, remarkably, managed through it, with my bowel thankfully intact.

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As I got older, my anxiety continued to cause issues. I struggled a lot with confidence when performing music at school, or doing speeches or presentations in class. Getting up in front of people made me incredibly nervous. I remember practising for music exams and absolutely dreading having to actually perform the exam. It was my idea of hell!

When I had finished school and started my working life, I’d always be ultra cautious around people and other colleagues. I took every word people said to me with a lot of seriousness. I wasn’t a big fan of criticism, especially when it felt targeted or overly blunt. I learnt to just deal with it and get on with it.

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When I literally lost my mind in 2019 and suffered from psychosis, in the moment I couldn’t understand why. I cried and cried because it felt unfair. It felt raw and uncontrollable. I didn’t take drugs, or drink a lot of alcohol, or any of that. I also didn’t come from a difficult or traumatic upbringing. I had a very loving and supportive family. I had a really great childhood.

Only now, as the fog clears in my life and mind, I can look back and actually realise that stress and anxiety has played a huge part in my life, but just in a different way. I guess it was like an iceberg – you only see so much on the surface and you also learn to put up with whatever lies beneath.

I was immune to the idea that stress could make your mind do a backflip and change your life forever. I didn’t have family members or a history that indicated that psychosis, and later bipolar disorder, would play a role in my life.

It was rapid onset, meaning that it all came to light within a couple of days, rather than a build up of months and months. Thankfully, it was also a rapid recovery, but regardless, it still knocked me out completely.

It changed my life forever.

I guess the message of this blog post is that life is simply unpredictable, but at the same time, it’s important that we learn from ourselves and be open about how we feel.

Because when the hard times come, whether that be because of your own mind or someone else’s, and when you wonder why your life is what it is, remember your past and all that has happened.

Remember the good days, the great days, but also remember the tough ones, and how you felt at that time.

Life is unpredictable, but looking back CAN help us be better, healthier and more mentally wise in the future.

Zak