Mental Illness to Recovery – We hold our own Journey Plans!

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Author: Tig Davies
Published: 02 May 2006

Tig Davies’ personal recovery story looks at the history of her illness, use of services, medications and support, and also explores various factors that help her to keep well. A service user for over 20 years, Tig works now full time training staff in the West Central region of Scotland for a large voluntary sector organisation, and is passionate about promoting service user empowerment, recovery and peer support.

I am telling my story, as so many have before me, as a way of sharing my experiences of a mental illness and hopefully touching even just one person enough to enable them to find ‘hope’ for a positive living future.

For me my mental illness is at times sheer hell, but with the right support, basic needs being met and a determination to move forward step by step, it has none the less shown itself to be an illness that can be managed and lived with. It demands acknowledgement and respect. Given these two things it remains a part of me that I cannot and should not ignore. It is part of what makes me who and what I am. In affording my illness acknowledgement and respect, I feel that while it remains with me it no longer takes over my entire life. A little like any other relationship in my life!

By way of a short history; my illness introduced itself to me formally when I was around 11 years old. My family knew I wasn’t ‘quite right’ but left it at that, in part because my abusive father, who disliked me intensely, reminded me that my mother (no longer living with us) was totally ‘mad’ and clearly I was just like her. The other reason the true extent of my illness was unrecognised for so long at home was because I became a master of disguise about my world, feelings and inner experiences, even managing to keep my various self-harming hidden from them for over 15 years in total. The idea that I might be found out and ‘locked up’ was hideous to me as a child! It was when I was in my late 20’s, and newly re-united with my mother, that I finally learnt the true extent of her own severe and life long mental illness.

At that time I was blissfully unaware of what my illness was called and of the true impact it was having and would continue to have over the next 31 years (I am 43 this year!). Leaving home was both a relief and terrifying. No longer did I have to hide my secret existence from family and friends, but facing the realities now totally alone brought a whole new set of problems. I saw hundreds of different doctors; I just grabbed anti-depressant and sleeping pill prescriptions from any doctor who would dish them out. Whenever my illness appeared to be getting ‘noticed’ by others I simply moved job and home - over a 20 year period I moved 30 times!

From the outset, and until I was in my mid twenties, I experienced massive mood swings between a crippling dark, deep and morbid depression all the way across the poles to feeling like a child of the universe who was capable of everything and anything. Both of these states would last for days, nights, weeks and even for months on end. The swings impacted hugely on my daily existence. Both swing states were in their own way crippling and exhausting. Everything from my physical health, education, relationships, work, social inclusion and my view of the world would alter to a place of un-recognition and the swing would often happen overnight. One day I would be at one pole and the next, for no apparent reason, I would have travelled either to bliss or back to hell. These swings never gave an indication of how long my new state would last. Suicide attempts, self harm, eating disorders, hearing voices and self-medication (more like my desire to escape with chemicals, drugs and alcohol) were a dominant feature of my life for over 25 years. I spent long periods of time in acute psychiatric wards and have seen psychiatrists, CPNs, counsellors and therapists come and go like changes in the seasons! I must say though, these people, while there have been some who frankly did nothing short of abuse my very being, on the whole worked incredibly hard to support me with a clear determination to understand and empathise with ‘my’ experiences. I would not be here today if it were not, in part, for these people. They know who they are and I thank them all.

I was in my 30’s and at University, having somehow sustained what was probably a three year massive high when the grim reaper himself appeared to take over my life! One minute in the Student’s Union building, the next Room 1, ‘H’ ward, Acute Psychiatric Unit! I had experienced a previous and very unsuccessful 3 month admission to a psychiatric unit in my late twenties, but I wish to tell you about this next experience because of its eventual positive impact upon my recovery. Needless to say the first 8 months of this admission had no positive impact! 3 months at home ended with me in hospital being told my liver would never take another overdose, a psychiatrist telling me I would never work again, being offered life in a therapeutic community and told to keep taking the medication – oh, and please stay in the hospital!

At that point I truly believed that life as a ‘well person’ for me was over. I was mad and that was that. I was totally devastated but physically and mentally powerless to react. I collapsed into a passive world of nothingness. However; it was to be during the next 7months in hospital where my recovery journey finally began!

I was heavily medicated, hideously underweight, incapable of thought, desire, motivation or social interaction. My mind was full of dread, fear, voices demanding that I harm myself, that I was dead in all but disgusting body and that this state would remain until death.

Upstairs at the hospital there was a small patient/visitor café run by Dee. She is probably one of the most genuine, empathic, supportive and fun mental health support workers I have ever met. They called her the ‘Coffee Shop Assistant’. She took ‘serving people’ in that café to new heights. Dee didn’t just serve coffee she served people. She talked, she shared, she asked, she listened, she cried, she laughed, she spoke the truth as she saw it, she hugged when appropriate, kept her distance when it was right to do so. She joined people to communicate, she took no crap from people, she sought and found understanding of difference – oh, and she made a great mug of coffee! And all of this despite her fear of being in trouble for talking at work! The café and time with Dee became a place of solitude, light and hope for me.

I was in the café one morning when the new ‘welfare rights worker’ came in - Dave. It transpired we had known each other years before. We talked. He had previously met me during a ‘high’ time in my life and yet being faced with a walking corpse, while upsetting him greatly, brought out in him the most person centred approach to an individual you could imagine. He, Dee and I sat and drank coffee. Then he simply looked at me and asked the most simple and yet profound question I had ever been asked. ‘What do YOU think would help YOU to get well again?’ I was blown away – no one had asked before and I had always been led to believe that the pills, the nurses and the psychiatrists had the plans and the answers. After all they had written me a care plan!

I embraced the question in my desperate state and, feeling I had nothing to lose, told Dave and Dee the threads of a dream I had known before. I wanted to be well, I wanted relationships with my family and friends back, I wanted to go home to my flat, and I wanted to work. At the end of this talk I ate and, equally important, ‘enjoyed’ toast and jam and a full mug of chocolate milkshake. At that point I hadn’t eaten more than 1 digestive biscuit and half a glass of milk a day for over for over 3 months! I also smiled. And that felt great. ‘Hope’ had finally returned.

I talked. I dreamed. I planned.

Within less than a fortnight I was on far less medication. I was eating. I was feeling much better. I was home. I had seen family and friends. I had a support network established with psychiatric services. Dave offered me voluntary work, and on Monday morning another week later, albeit a little shaky, I turned up as the new Welfare Rights Volunteer at the hospital.

Working was wonderful. I loved the doing, the being, the learning, the clients, the colleagues, the sense of self worth and the growth in my confidence, self-esteem and overall development.

This sounds very ideal and a little romantic – it was how it is stated, albeit hugely condensed - and yet the road ahead was to prove far from smooth or easy. The next three years included another deep depression lasting some10 months at home shut away from the world with all the hell that is my depression, but this time also involved continuing getting paid work, more voluntary positions - moving house and really beginning to embrace my ‘recovery’ to it’s fullest. Incidentally, it was also during this time that at 35 I was finally ‘diagnosed’ ‘Bi-Polar! This bought with it masses more self-exploration and research in to my illness.

Essentially I have never looked back, but I do reflect on this time with immense pride and thanks to all those who I met and who supported me on my journey, all of whom I still know and many of whom I love and respect very dearly.

For the last 2 years I have lived, worked and finally settled here in Scotland. In this time I have had relatively short episodes of depression and yet through my development of self awareness and insight in to my illness, properly planned and organised GP and psychiatric interventions, self medication with appropriate prescriptions, support from my employers, love and support from family and friends, and a determination to remain on my road to recovery, I am here today feeling really very well and positive. Hoorah!

Sleep has always been a huge issue for me. I hate going to bed early and hate getting up late. My creativity comes in buckets in the later hours of the day, and yet I do know that my body and mind need a good night’s sleep to keep me well. On that basis I make myself go to bed by midnight. I have now found that my creativity has begun to come at much earlier times. I feel that my illness is a part of me that I acknowledge and respect; when I am looking after myself fully the creativity flows because it can! I also allow myself to sleep when I need to. I occasionally sleep for 17 – 20 hours straight. If I do this I wake feeling well and rested. My body and mind tell me when I need this and I have learnt to listen.

Creativity is wonderful. I don’t know or worry about how good mine is compared with another’s. That really doesn’t matter, I enjoy it and that’s enough. More importantly I embrace it. I share it with others at times and at times just do it because it makes me feel good. If I want to write, I write; songs, poems and now apparently ‘my story’! It’s essential for well-being.

Food, or rather the lack of it, has, as you will have noted, been an intrinsic part of my illness. Still I struggle with eating regularly - daily is hard enough. However, again I know that following a daily good food diet is essential to my well-being. And no junk at all – it really makes me unwell!

Exercise, time out and relaxation are also vital. No, I certainly don’t always feel like going for a walk or soaking in the bath, or sitting reading. I tend to find these pursuits ‘boring’! However, I have to acknowledge their benefits if I am to keep myself well. I want to be well. Thus I have had to put a lot of effort into doing these things simply because they help keep me well. Through this I have found amazing books I like, put a stereo in the bathroom and, living in Scotland, I have wonderful walks.

Working, I wish I didn’t have to really, but I do and am lucky enough to love what I do. But, I also know that I have to work to stay well. It is a place where I have structure and where I have focus; where other people rely on me and I on them; it is a place where I can give and take. It is a place where I grow and develop as a professional and a person. I shared my illness with my employers from day one openly and honestly at my interview. They were and continue to be both supportive and ‘real’ with me. This is wonderful. It also brings me an income that I have earned and which brings me the security to pay bills and buy the material pleasures of life. The huge, and unexpected, delight and pride I felt at the time I received a benefits cheque for the last time was awesome. A true feeling of success and independence.

Money, with bi-polar, can be a huge issue. As a result I have established a ‘high’ account at the bank where I have saved money to keep myself for up to 6 weeks should I become so unwell that I lose my work, but also should I become so high that I go spending mad! This means I am safe until help arrives in both events, so to speak. I keep a set minimum balance and think of this money as ‘essential help’ that I may need urgently, and not merely ‘cash or savings’. It means I don’t come through an episode of illness and find myself on the other side of it only to now be in debt! I acknowledge my genuine need for having this money and respect it being there.

Friends and family have also been a huge support to me and continue to bring enormous pleasures and their own life stuff into my world. It is the combination of all these things that are vital to my recovery. One important thing about these people is that they too know my story – and I know theirs! Each of us has our own story, whether we have mental illness or not. I have met many of my friends through voluntary and paid work, through clubs, courses and classes I have attended and through establishing a healthy social life. My friends acknowledge and respect me, and all that is my life and I, theirs. They are positive and embracing of ‘recovery’. They are good for me and I, them. This is so important and should always be so with the people we call ‘friends and family’. None of us needs people in our lives who are ‘bad’ for us. Keep away from them. Embrace and truly value the ‘good people’!

Medication is something I don’t much like; but the reality is that that if monitored and taken appropriately ‘for me’ it does its job. I know what works and am clear about its purpose. I know about the medication I take and what it does to and for me. Again, like the illness itself, I have got to know my medication in much the same way, and so I can live with it rather than have it dominate me. On that basis I use it when I need it.

Psychiatric services I am not always happy with. However, they have their job to do and when they do it well they work for me. On that basis I use them when I need them. I am honest with them and tell them my needs. Being clear and proactive about my well-being helps us both help me.

There is also one other factor that I believe totally is vital to recovery. Belief in ‘being well’. I think about my life in well terms. I focus on ‘well-being’. I think about what I want and need and how this looks for me as a well person. I then strive towards that vision. This state of mind is so healing and rewarding. I have good days and I have bad days. I have happy experiences and I have sad ones. It’s part of life. But I know I have choices about how those days affect me, and the impact they have on my overall ‘well-being’ and ultimate recovery journey.

The point of sharing with you my condensed history was to give you some idea of what my journey has entailed through personal experience. I would and could never say that I am where I am today because of only me. That would be a lie. As would to say that other people alone have made me recover. It has, and continues to be, a shared thing. I have to ‘do’ and sometimes I need other people to ‘do’ for and with me. I have to be clear and honest about what I can do for myself and what I need support with. It is about being human.

My illness has, as I said at times been hell, but when I reflect on ‘my whole story’ I cannot help but see and acknowledge the tremendous positives that my illness and subsequent journey has led me to – insight, knowledge, understanding, self-awareness and a whole world of truly amazing people! I have undergone successful open-heart surgery, worked in orphanages in Romania and Jamaica, trained as a trainer in Person Centred Planning, gained qualifications in Counselling and gained a Dip HE from University. I have learned to sleep, eat, relax, enjoy my life and be a full citizen who is both loved and loving. On top of all these things I also have my mental ‘well-being’. It is for these reasons that I am sure ‘mental illness’, once acknowledged, respected and worked with, enables us to step on the road to recovery and that once there we discover that we in fact hold the journey plans within our ‘selves’. Through the things we do and the people we meet along the way, the road to recovery while not always easy, is none-the-less an exciting, fulfilling and positive road to be on.

While I acknowledge and respect my illness I keep it in perspective. I also have a huge acknowledgement of, and respect for, my ‘self’. It is when those two became one that ‘recovery’ became a reality and not simply a concept. I do not fear my illness any longer; I have got to know it well. I know now the signs of when I am getting unwell and I know the things I do that raise my likelihood of becoming unwell. I have spent time and effort getting to know it incredibly well. I am aware fully of what I have to do physically, mentally and environmentally to maximise my well-being. The things I have to do don’t always suit me – being high can be great! However, the low is hell and frankly not a place I wish to go or take myself to. The key for me is about balance, and the more I strive towards finding my balance the more I am able to control the tipping of the scales on occasion to suit me, without it having a detrimental effect.

Remember, it is not the size of the step we take, it is what we are taking it for that matters.

Thank you for taking the time to read and share my story. I believe it is a living example of recovery working, something I do not believe is unique to my life but something that is there for everyone, no matter what their ‘illness’.

If you’d like to share your thoughts or experiences of recovery then contact us on This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it or 0141 240 7790 to discuss.

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Story disclaimer

The stories presented here are for information only. They are meant to inspire hope and show that recovery can and does happen. The stories highlight various examples of recovery and we do not advocate any of these experiences as the ‘right’ way to recover. Recovery is an individual and unique process, each person must decide for himself or herself what will work for them. Please carefully consider any decisions you make about your own recovery and consult with someone you trust if you feel unsure.

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