When I was going through a funk, what I was looking for
most was a good wingman. Someone who I could trust and have my back ALWAYS. Unfortunately,
my experience with doctors, psychologists and psychiatrist’s during my ups and
downs has been mostly shit house. It’s not the easiest thing to write about,
but I want to shed some light on it, because I nearly gave up hope and I really
hope others don’t have to deal with the same shit.
To start with, when I finally had the balls to go
see a doctor and say, "I’m struggling, I need help", they made me
fill out this stupid form rating my happiness from 1-10. I was like, "look
at me, I just said I was struggling. It’s taken me 10 years to finally admit I
need help and you make me do a happiness survey. FML". My relationship
with this doctor was over there and then. The best she could do was book an
appointment with a psychologist in 6 weeks. 6 weeks…are you serious?? This is
the point where I walk out and pay for shit service. In a restaurant you get
your money back if food is bad! Why doesn’t that happen with doctors?
The visit to the psychologist 6 weeks later, started off
ok. I told my life story and we practiced some cognitive behavioral
therapy. This actually made me feel pretty good. The only thing is that I
was then misdiagnosed with perfectionism. This meant no medication, which I was
stoked about at the time. Unfortunately this didn’t help when I had a severe
anxiety/depression episode in Mexico, where CBT just didn’t cut it. I didn’t
know what the hell was going on. I nearly gave up hope. I was so lucky I made
it back to Sydney.
Mum and Dad were waiting for me in Sydney when I got back.
We rang around trying to get an appointment with any psychiatrist we could
find, but we had no luck. Then one day we got lucky…well we thought we did. Mum
and Dad were in the room when I told the psychiatrist my history with mental
health issues in our family and that Dad had bipolar. That day he put me on
some antidepressants that I would later find out, were not meant to be given to
anyone who has a family history of bipolar. Basically, they can take you from
the lowest low to the highest high (manic). I found this out 3 months later
when I ended up in Manly Manly hospital mental health ward after a week
partying at the Australian Open of Surfing.
In hospital, I got put on a concoction of medication
because I was still in my own World, dancing around like MJ. I remember one
night I woke up and I couldn’t feel my legs and I could hardly see. I stumbled
to the nurse’s station and knocked on the window and was like, "What the
hell have you given me? I can’t fuckin' see". She shut the window, so I
threw the medication at her. I’m not usually an angry dude, but hell, you spend
a week in a mental health hospital and it’s hard not to be. After that I worked
out how to beat the system. If I just were super quiet, didn’t get excited and
do heaps of yoga, I might get out. If I was too happy and danced around they
would probably think I’m still manic. It worked and I was diagnosed with
bipolar and set free.
My next bad experience was when I returned back to Sydney
after 5 months recovering in NZ. I went to see this doctor who was meant to be
a mental health specialist. It turns out he was a dickhead specialist. He told
me “do you know that only so many % of people with bipolar can handle a normal
job” and “what are you doing in Sydney, when you could be in NZ? You’re
probably not going to get a job” I wish I told him to fuck himself, but I
honestly couldn’t speak. I just walked out and started crying. The crying
didn’t last long. This turned into more motivation to show that people with
bipolar can get shit done!
Luckily, I did finally meet one legend doctor, through a
friend who also suffers from funks like me. This Doctor ledge made me feel
normal for having bipolar and he got my medication level right. We would often
crack up laughing when we caught up. That doesn’t happen much at the doctors
and I often find laughing at myself the best medicine. Unfortunately the last
time I went to see him he had moved overseas. Shit!
So yep, I’ve had some shit experiences and it has caused
me a lot of pain, but above all else, this has allowed me to discover the real
me…yep I have bipolar, yep I’m happy and yep I still have down days…I’m only
human. This has also allowed me to discover the real wingmen in my life. The
ones I can trust and have my back no matter what. My amazing family has ALWAYS
had my back. My Dad Brucey also has bipolar, so we would go surfing and share
stories. Brucey made me feel good about having bipolar, because he is such a
legend. My Mum Alison is the kindest loving human I know. When I wasn’t surfing
and I needed to talk about anything, she was there. Whenever I needed to go to
see another medical dickhead she would take me. She wanted to punch the doctors
in the nuts just as much me. My sister Lee & hubby Matt, my big bro Aaron
& wife Kylee and my little bro Scott & wife Chloe are my best mates and
are the definition of good wingmen. They were ALWAYS there for me when I needed
them and I will never forget it. My friends including the Onewave crew have
been such good humans. They make me feel normal about having bipolar, rather
than ashamed. They have helped so much with
my recovery, because I could talk to others who had been through a similar
funk.
So…no matter what you’re doing in life you always need a
good wingman. When you’re going through a funk you need them even more. Make
sure you find someone you can trust, that understands you and lock them in. A
good wingman could change your life.
