I will try to put this in a nutshell as much as one can. I am bipolar - personality disorder, highly sensitive and have trauma from childhood sexual abuse. It has taken me over thirty years to “come to terms” with this disease and I have lost a lot along the way as well as having gained so much.

My sister took her own life after suffering almost 40 years of mental health illnesses, not the first in my family to attempt suicide and yes I am on that list as well, as well as millions of others. I am open, honest and at times quite blunt with mental health, mainly because I am tired of it being a taboo subject. Time to shine some light on what millions go through every day. Through my Instagram I try shine that light by being completely open about what I go through, warts and all, but at the same time I try to be as positive as I can be, which at times is a fight in itself. I have fought addiction, depression, anxiety, ocd and abuse.

You would think that after all of that I wouldn’t want to talk about mental health. You’d think. I used to shy away from telling anyone about it, why would they want to know about my “issues”, what could they know, how could they possibly help?! Sound familiar? It will do to a lot of people, as those who suffer and live with mental illness we feel that we are alone, that we need to do this alone and that we are a burden to those we love and to the world. How wrong could millions of people be? Its been almost two years since Emma died and that marked a significant part in my life. It started me talking. When you say you lost your sister, it’s not like she disappeared down the back of the sofa with the spare change, you kinda need to say something. Saying she died was the easiest thing to say, the pain became worse when you say she killed herself. Then you think about yourself, about the times you were on the edge wanting to jump off and never wanting to come back from the brink. Then you remember the time your mum took all those pills and threw herself down the stairs, and when your friends ended up in hospital, and then your other friends step-dad who hung himself and you start to see that when you really and I mean REALLY think about it and start to look around there are so many of us that are fighting.

The more I thought about it the more I talked about it and then the more I wasn’t so afraid to say that I am different. Suddenly people were saying the same thing back, that they suffer and fight every day too. Suddenly I wasn’t as alone as I thought. My disease gives me superpowers. I might be chemically different from some, but that highly sensitive side that it brings with it means I can read people and situations better than most. I can feel what people feel and am able to be empathetic where some can’t. That “burden” that I felt was starting to feel like a gift. And why wouldn’t you want to talk about the gift you have?

I’ve opened up so much in these almost two years that I fell that the chemistry in my head is starting to shift, and it all starts with a thought. Whats wrong with being different?  Whats so wrong with being born different? Wouldn’t it be boring if we were all the same? Start to see that you are different and that’s great, even with the manic lows and the tremendous highs, they are all part of the gift. You ARE the gift and if you start to see that you will start to share that gift because we all love getting gifts :)