Tuesday, 22 August 2017


Among many opportunities I’ve been offered – and have accepted – recently; is to work personally with an Author whose book is about to be released VERY soon; (that’s all I can say until the official press release on September 7th!) and it made me think about Marty and Fran. They have both featured many times on I’m NOT Disordered and Marty recently supported me at an ITV event (post to come soon) so I wanted to check back in with them and see how they felt about their own book, (High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder) almost one year since publishing.

Could you remind readers what your book is about?
My best friend Fran Houston and I wrote High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder to share what we have learned about building a caring, mutually supportive, friendship between a “well one” and an “ill one.” We hope our book will inspire and inform others who—like me—want to help support a friend who happens to live with mental illness. Fran lives in the US, with three invisible and episodic conditions: bipolar disorder, chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS/ME), and fibromyalgia. Despite living 3,000 miles away in the UK, I am Fran’s primary support and carer. “High Tide, Low Tide” was published by Nordland Publishing, in September 2016.

Thursday, 17 August 2017


By the time I'm finished, they won't even know your name

There are 28 posts in my 'Drafts.'

Looking through them is basically like you've glanced into my head every so often.

One of them was named TTIWICSBC - The Things I Wish I Could Say But Can't. It was going to be a little series of posts aimed at different people in my life - or who have been, in my life. People I'm unable to - for many different, complicated, confusing reasons - talk to. Things that I'm unable to say out loud and so the words float buzz around my head. [I changed my mind with 'float' because that implies that all is calm; and it isn't. Not all the time. Not where this is concerned.]

The post remains empty - but for the title and idea behind it...

Thursday, 27 July 2017


"Don't tell me you haven't heard of that phrase!"
"Well, no!"
"A hole is somewhere you can go and hide; and 'bolt' is... like when you're running away."

Last year, I visited Scarborough with my Mum and since I've never shut up about the amazing hotel room we stayed in (at the Ambassador Hotel) it'd had the most incredible view but it wasn't until a day before we were due to leave that I actually started to make the most of - and appreciate - the chairs placed directly in front of the bay window. So when I found out I was going back to Scarborough but that it was to stay in a different hotel (the Crown Spa Hotel), I wasn't sure if I was going to enjoy it so much; I'd thought that it'd been that hotel, that view, and that little area of the room that had me feeling content and peaceful for the entire holiday.

Monday, 17 July 2017



Having been abused when I was younger I internalised all of the mental (and physical) pain; and held onto the anger through my reluctance to tell anyone it had occurred. Over the following two years I tried various dangerous and unhealthy coping methods before I began experiencing auditory hallucinations in 2009, and out of fear; I took an overdose.
Over the following three years I self-harmed (in many different ways), took (according to my files) over 60 overdoses, and was sectioned under the Mental Health Act on countless occasions where admissions to Psychiatric Hospitals lasted from anywhere between a couple of days, to several months.

In July 2012 I attempted suicide and woke up in Intensive Care. There (once I came off life support) I agreed to go into a long-term (the average stay was claimed to be 12-18 months) hospital specialising in Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). The hospital (Cygnet Hospital Bierley) was based over 100 miles away from my home, my Mum, my family, friends; and everything I knew…

Wednesday, 12 July 2017

'What I Wish We Could've Said Besides Goodbye' by Twitter-Verified Rebecca Lombardo, Author, Blogger & Podcast Co-Host | GUEST POST | Ad

Rebecca Lombardo (the author of this guest post) is best known for her book: It's Not Your Journey, her writing for The Huffington Post and The Mighty and the podcast she Co-Hosts: Voices for Change.

This post is one of three that Rebecca has kindly submitted in celebration of I'm NOT Disordered exceeding a quarter of a million readers! THANK YOU EVERYONE!

Rebecca Lombardo: http://www.rebeccalombardo.com/
Rebecca's Twitter: https://twitter.com/BekaLombardo
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bekalombardo/
YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCEoyO6kjuytYquAmZLWt7MQ

In 2013, I attempted to take my life. I was admitted immediately to the hospital and placed on suicide watch. Because I have a lot of friends on social media, my husband thought it would be a good way to keep people updated about my condition. I don’t blame him, in fact, I gave him permission. It seemed logical and was not at all meant to hurt anyone. I considered most of the people on my page to be close friends, and I know a lot of people were asking about me.

What we didn’t ever stop to consider was the people that didn’t want the updates. Some of those friends were people I had known 20 years or more.  When I was finally released from the mental institution that I was transferred to, I hoped for support from my friends. I had just been through a major trauma and the hospital I was sent to was just a horrible, horrible place.
Much to my dismay, the first time I signed on to Facebook I discovered that I had lost quite a few friends. Some were hardly noticeable, but some were people I considered family and I was stunned, and I was furious. I was so angry that I should never have been trying to communicate with any of these people. I should have taken a step back and approached it at a later date.  I knew I was only going to be met with more negativity, but sometimes I have trouble controlling my anger.
As I started to approach certain people, I was shocked to hear that they deleted or even blocked me because of my husband’s updates. They were apparently too depressing for some people. My feelings at the time were shackled to resentment. I kept thinking, “It was hard on YOU that I almost died? Are you kidding me right now?”. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got.

One friend, I had known for more than 20 years. We even lived together at one point. I felt like I had always been there for her when she needed me, so I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t be there for me when I so desperately needed her. My husband explained that he had privately messaged her to tell her the situation. Apparently, up until that point, I had done a great job of hiding my disease from her. Either that or she wasn’t paying any attention. I’m inclined to believe it was the latter of the two.
He was met with stereotypical stigmatizing statements like, “What could she possibly have to be so depressed about?” and “Suicide is just taking the coward’s way out of life.” So, he dropped it and didn’t tell me about it right away for obvious reasons. When I went to message her that I was home and found out that she not only deleted me but blocked me as well, I had to email and ask her why.
I don’t recall our exact conversation; I think I’ve blocked a lot of it out. I do remember my anger reaching boiling point as I wrote my email. I let her have it. Now that I can look back at the situation, I do regret getting that angry. However, when I started to get the comments back about me being a coward and having her only refer to it as “my so-called illness,” well let’s just say I lost it. It only took three emails to decimate a 20+ year friendship. That was in July of 2013, and we still don’t talk.

Some days I miss her. Most of the time, the feelings of loss are immediately replaced by resentment. Then there are the days where I begin to wonder. What if I had approached it differently? Why if I had gotten out of my own way long enough to realize maybe she was afraid of losing her friend and that fear turned into anger?
What if I had tried to educate her on my condition? What if I had just come right out and told her why I did what I did? Despite my part in the whole sordid affair, I have to put part of the burden on her as well. She could have approached me kindly without tossing stigma and judgment out at me. She owed me that much after more than 20 years.

The moral of the story here is that there will be people in your life that no matter what, they will not understand your illness. They won’t even try. They’ll hear the term mental illness and cut and run. You have to keep reminding yourself that it’s not your fault. You didn’t ask for this disease, and you certainly didn’t ask for the ignorance you run across. You can explain it to them, but you can’t understand it for them.

On the other side, try to remember that a serious mental breakdown may scare your friends or family members. They may be afraid to discuss it with you for fear of making it worse, so their only instinct is to get as far away from you as possible. I’ve witnessed this first-hand.  Perhaps their first instinct is anger; that is not your fault either.

The person you need to be concerned with right now is the one looking back at you in the mirror. Other people will come around at their own pace, or they may not ever come around at all. It’s not up to you to figure it out for them, and while the loss may be painful, it’s good to know who will be by your side when the going gets tough. If you do lose someone, that is their issue, not yours. You have to get yourself better; you can’t focus on becoming what they want or need you to be. In the long run, you’ll realize that if they’re out the door at the first sign of trouble; they weren’t friends anyway.

For more on Rebecca's personal journey visit: http://www.rebeccalombardo.com/about
And to buy Rebecca's book visit: https://www.amazon.com/dp/0692509739/ref=cm_sw_su_dp