You wouldn’t joke about cancer or any other life- threatening illness, so why would you trivialise bipolar?
It’s the question posed by Morrinsville grandmother Julie Genders, who has struggled with the extreme highs and lows of the disorder for much of her life.
The 54-year-old lived with bipolar for close to 40 years before diagnosis, despite several suicide attempts and time spent in psychiatric hospitals. She says using the term to describe someone who is a bit moody or even to signal the changing weather is insulting.
“When I hear someone say, ‘I’m having such a bad day, I just want to kill myself’ it makes me feel quite sick. It’s nothing to joke about,” she says frankly.
Julie is bravely speaking out about the disorder in the hope others won’t suffer in silence like she did.
Despite awareness campaigns and high-profile stars such as Catherine Zeta-Jones, Carrie Fisher, Tall Ferns Penina Davidson and Patty Duke speaking publicly about their own bipolar diagnoses, Julie says stigma still exists.
Pooch Charlie provides some light relief.
“We should be able to talk about it,” she asserts. “If I had cancer, people would come and say to me, ‘Are you all right?’ but with mental illness, you hide it because deep down you don’t want to be judged.”
For Julie, the euphoria or “high” can come on very quickly and while it can feel good, she describes it as being like riding a rollercoaster, going faster and faster. She wants to get off, but loses all ability to make sensible decisions.
“It’s like not having control of your mind or your actions,” she explains. “I go shopping and just buy. Recently, I saw this cute rocking horse and I bought it for my granddaughter, then thought, ‘Oh, dear, that was $500.’ I’ll change my hair colour dramatically, then wake up two days later and hate it.”
What goes up must come down and after each high, Julie inevitably crashes.
The “low” can go on for days, the thought of doing simple tasks – like getting dressed, showering and doing her hair – too much to bear.
She says she gets through with the help of her caring and understanding husband Tim, who has been by her side for 20 years.
It’s husband Tim and his words of encouragement that help get her through.
“I’m so lucky,” Julie says warmly. “Tim will come home and say, ‘Oh, good girl, you’re dressed, it doesn’t matter if you haven’t left the house, you’ve gotten up.’ He praises what I have done, even if it’s going to the mailbox and back.”
Julie struggled to understand herself growing up in the 1970s. As a teenager, she was labelled a “black sheep” or “moody”.
“It was a joke that my parents brought the wrong twin home because my sister was head girl and my brothers excelled at sports,” she recalls. “I’d sit in my room for days if I wasn’t feeling good and at school I broke every rule in the book.”
She began having thoughts of dying from age 16. Unable to make sense of how she felt, she began self-harming. She still bears the scars from her cutting.
She was in her twenties, and a wife and a mother, when she first attempted suicide.
“I really loved being a mother, but there was something that wasn’t right. The doctor just told me I was a bit depressed and needed to take a pill, but I was still utterly miserable.
“I thought, ‘I can’t do this any more, I am totally mad, I don’t want to be here.'”
Now a grandmother of nine, Julie is eternally grateful she wasn’t successful at ending her life. After leaving her first husband and meeting Tim, she was finally diagnosed.
Julie loved being a mother but felt something wasn’t right.
“I went to see several doctors. They’d tried me on all sorts of medications and were looking at electroconvulsive therapy,” Julie reveals.
“When someone finally said, ‘We think you might have a mood disorder, it’s called bipolar’, I thought, ‘Wow, they know what I’ve got!'”
Since her diagnosis 15 years ago, Julie has had a steady intake of stabilisers, antidepressants and anti-psychotic medication, but she still struggles. The condition affects her sleep and eating, and she can lie awake at night, her mind racing.
She says talking is her best defence against the disorder and she surrounds herself with things she loves – music, gardening and her beloved pooch Charlie. She hopes by speaking out, she might help others get help early.
“For years, I didn’t talk to anybody, I kept it all to myself but we have to talk about it. Anyone feeling the way I did should see the doctor and get the medication they need – don’t just come away with half an antidepressant. Take it further so that you don’t have to suffer like I did for so many years.”
Lifeline is available 24 hours a day to counsel New Zealanders in crisis. Phone 0800 543 354 if you think it will help to talk.
Words: Anastasia Hedge
