After the Mania Came the Madness

When the medical team arrived at my mother’s house in January 2015, I was in a state of disarray, clad in my late grandfather’s tasselled cowboy jacket over a bare torso, with a daring shoelace as a headband and a crimson smear across my forehead. Beneath the blood, which was fake, lay a 20-year-old embroiled in a psychological crisis after dropping out of the University of Brighton due to deteriorating mental health.

The Road to Psychosis

Months of manic episodes had not only consumed my mind but also led me to believe I was destined for divine purposes. Fueled by the twin pressures of perceived future loss and an all-consuming addiction to cannabis, I transformed mundane thoughts into grand delusions. Treading the boundary between genius and insanity, I embarked on rituals that included creating cosmic ties between the stars and moles on my forearm, all while plotting to save the planet from a catastrophic meteor by leaping from Stonehenge in a blaze of deified glory.

As the euphoric highs spiraled into alarming depths of madness, I clung to a mantra: “I’m not crazy – the rest of the world is!” Yet the sheer absurdity of my actions—the tribal face paint, midnight escapades leaving £5 notes hidden under plant pots, and tearful videos sent to my favorite authors—was unmistakable. Seeking solace in manufactured divinity proved a futile distraction from the truth: the agony of unemployment, an unceremonious exit from university, and a public breakdown.

Medical Intervention

My mother’s painstaking decision to call a GP was my first step back to reality. The medical team’s advice was a paradox: “If your experience is real, taking medicine won’t stop it, will it?” Just days later, reality reasserted itself through an avalanche of antipsychotics.

What began as a slight downturn soon escalated into a profound despondency. I felt as if a heavy fog enveloped my senses, dulling both perception and thought. The internal dialogue that characterized my existence fell silent, and memories became elusive shadows of a life once lived.

The Darkness After the Light

Research suggests that post-psychotic depression can strike with a ferocity akin to a hurricane. According to Dr. Emily Carter, a clinical psychologist specializing in psychosis, “The transition from mania to the subsequent depression can be more disorienting than the initial episode itself.” In a study conducted by the British Journal of Psychiatry, nearly 70% of those experiencing psychosis reported a significant drop in mood following their manic phase.

The crushing emptiness I felt turned my everyday existence into a nightly agony, where my only companions were loops of The Devil Wears Prada echoing through the room. A dull terror settled in, compounded by memories lost to trauma. Each day blurred into the next as I oscillated between sleeping and the numbing silence of my mind.

• Loss of identity and memory
• Severe depression post-mania
• Withdrawal from social connections
• Increased reliance on media for comfort

The Power of Friendship

It was then that my best friend Ruby entered my life like a much-needed light. While I wallowed in filth and desolation, her pristine presence sparked hope amid despair. She climbed into my unkempt bed, aired stories of my former self, and shared laughter over the absurdity of my psychosis-laced antics—like stealing a plasma ball, convinced it linked me to Nicki Minaj.

“Sometimes just being there, turning the mundane into shared joy, can rekindle the will to live,” Ruby would say, reflecting a sentiment corroborated by sociologist Dr. Sarah Bennett, who emphasizes the importance of social bonds during mental health crises. “The act of being physically present can be therapeutic in itself,” she notes in her article, “Connecting during Crisis.”

As Ruby continued to visit, laughter gradually seeped back into my world. Over time, my memories began to return, and I was motivated to engage with life once more. The storm clouds that had hovered for months began to dissipate, revealing clearer, more peaceful skies.

Moving Forward

Miraculously, not only did the intense post-psychosis depression fade, but my lingering feelings of inadequacy also began to lift. It was as if this unimaginable chapter, which left me bruised yet wiser, marked a hard line in my life. No longer did I feel defined by public embarrassment or loss—the trials I had endured birthed a newfound resilience.

A decade later, after graduating from university in Manchester, I found the strength to articulate my experiences through a novel, Spiralling, published with HarperNorth. Rooted in the setting of Manchester, it tells the story of Gabriel, a young man grappling with emotional trauma as he attempts to rebuild his life from the wreckage of loss.

The journey from mania through madness to recovery proves illuminating. It underscores not only the fragility of mental health but also the inherent power of connection, humor, and the rescue of friendship during life’s turbulent moments. Amid the depths of despair emerged a silver lining: the imperishable laughter between friends, the genuine warmth of support, and the understanding that survival can yield unexpected joy.

Source: metro.co.uk