Sarah De Garnham, 36, from Port Talbot, isn’t afraid to show that life isn’t all rainbows and butterflies…
Standing in the middle of my kitchen and staring at the tiles, I knew what Ihad to do.
This is going to be the best decision I’ve made…
And it wasn’t long before I was ripping at the tiles, tearing them off the wall with my bare hands, using whatever tools I could find for the harder bits.
Spontaneous and erratic, two words that my family and friends would use to describe me, that was just my thing.
So quite literally wrecking my kitchen, leaving amess behind, didn’t bother me.
That was until my manic episode had worn off and I realised what I’d done.
What on earth was I thinking?
And that was a pattern that Ihad experienced ever since Iwas achild.
Reacting to situations in adifferent way to the rest of my friends, things would just affect me more.
I’d get attached to people easily and my emotions were never on asurface level.
Instead they would build in my belly, at times Icould never focus on just one thing and anger was acommon feeling.
‘Just have agood sleep and everything will be OK,’ my mum used to repeat.
Only, nothing ever really felt better –and deep down, Iknew that Iwasn’t normal.
I had to get to the bottom of what was happening
And after receiving a depression diagnosis in my early 20s, with no mental health issues in our family, I couldn’t help but feel confused.
Yes, there were times when I struggled to get out of bed, my mood at an all-time low, but I had another feeling.
‘I’m not depressed,’ I confessed. ‘I am some days, but then other times I’m manic. I have to juggle 10 million things at once.’
However, it wasn’t until falling pregnant with my son Harlee, now 15, back in 2008 when things came to ahead.
With my hormones on another level and having to deal with an abusive relationship, Iknew that Ineeded help.
Unable to leave the house, falling into aroutine of poor hygiene and manic episodes happening more than ever, this wasn’t just my erratic personality anymore.
And Ihad to get to the bottom of what was going on – something that continued for years on end.
Googling my behaviours, there was one term that popped up constantly. Bipolar disorder. Amental health condition that affects your mood, where you can swing from one extreme to another.
That’s me, I thought. In my eyes there was no other explanation, there couldn’t be.
‘Don’t be stupid. You haven’t got bipolar. You’re just being dramatic,’ the psychiatrist confessed after I’d been booked in for areferral.
I couldn’t quite believe her frankness in that moment.
Only, Iwasn’t stopping there –Ineeded asecond opinion.
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