To me, psychiatrists sounded scary. I imagined men in white coats, examining your mind as you sat in an empty, cold room answering questions that you’d have to think twice about just to ensure you got to go home at the end of the day. It sounds extreme, I know – but with the movie industry forcing the mindset that support for mental health only goes one way, you can’t help but think the worst. I kind of didn’t want to admit to anyone that I had been referred to a psychiatrist. It felt like a dirty word. I feared that telling anyone meant I’d be seen as crazy, unstable, as though I needed to be locked up.

Psychiatrists are much like other mental health professionals – except they deal with a variety of disorders and can prescribe medication. Of course now, I realise that talking about seeing a psychiatrist is much like talking about seeing a GP – both are there to help your health, but just in different areas.

But at the time, I didn’t see it that way. I had a build up of nerves right up until the actual session. I was overthinking what I should say, how I should act. How far should I go in terms of opening up? How far was too far? I arrived at the health centre and checked in. It was quite posh and I sat in the waiting room surrounded by only three other people. I was surprised, everyone looked completely ‘normal’. I’d expected at least someone to be screaming or getting upset, but people were quite, invested in their phones and magazines. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was the only one who looked unsettled.

Five minutes after I was due to start the appointment, and I still hadn’t been seen by anyone. I began to wonder whether the appointment had been cancelled – hoped, even – but seconds after looking at the door, a man came down and called my name. He wasn’t what I expected. He was nicely dressed, in a shirt and jeans. He had a kind face and a soft voice and he made me feel at ease immediately. Where were the men in white coats? He led me up to the stairs and down a hallway where there was door after door leading to various appointment rooms. When I entered the right room, I was asked to sit in a comfy chair opposite his. There were four chairs in total and I sat down on the edge of my seat, not wanting to take my coat off or even put my bag on the floor. I didn’t plan on staying very long.

That was until he told me the session would take longer than what the general session would do as he needed to assess me. I got comfy, and decided to just give this thing a go. His appearance alone has already exceeded my expectations, and while I was still scared, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as I’d imagined. He began by asking me questions about my lifestyle. My health, my relationships, my diet, my work life, my hobbies, my friends, you name it. He wanted to know everything. I answered as honestly as I could, just so that he could get an idea of what I was like. He then went on to ask me about my moods.

I told him that I had gone weeks feeling elated and weeks feeling suicidal. I’d have had episodes where I’d do things like order excessive amounts of absolute tat from Amazon.…before screaming in a bath tub and crying myself to sleep. I was shaking as I told him this. I wanted to run out of the room in fear he was going to take me away in a straight jacket. But he just nodded and noted it down, un-phased. I was surprised. He didn’t flinch at all. It was almost like he’d heard it all before – and he probably had. Instantly, I felt more relaxed. I’d told him details of my emotions that I’d never told anyone before, and it felt great. For the rest of the session, I felt comfortable enough to answer all of his questions. By the end of the session, he had gained enough information to give me a diagnosis – he knew I had Bipolar disorder, though he wanted to see me for more meetings to be sure, and started me on some medication, after asking me if I needed time to digest it. Mate, I needed to digest some red wine after this.

A few sessions later, which were actually filled with nothing but comfort and conversation. It was amazing to know I wasn’t crazy, that I actually had a mental health condition that I could learn to cope with instead of dealing with extreme mood swings I didn’t understand.

Though it was scary at first, I now have a comfortable relationship with my Psychiatrist. He’s the one person I can be totally honest with, without any fear of judgement.

We worry people won’t understand, that they’ll think we’re crazy and that things will get worse, but making the jump into getting help can change your life. Psychiatry is not as scary as it sounds – it’s just a bigger word for therapy, which admittedly is a much nicer description for help – but it deals with the medication side, too. Do it, if you’re offered it. No one will make you feel less crazy than a psychiatrist does, in my opinion.

Basically, mate, I couldn’t think of an appropriate title, so I turned to music and found the most appropriate song with the word “psych”-iatrist in. You are welcome.

Hang in there.

Ellen on the Edge xx