Ekaterina Netchitailova

I have a diagnosis of bipolar disorder, given to me because of my vulnerability to psychoses.

Since getting the diagnosis and being on and off some heavy medication with disastrous side effects, I have promised myself that my diagnosis doesn’t define me. Yes, if I end in a psychosis I act weird and embarrassing. As an example, I once applied to a job at the United Nations, saying in my application letter that I am Jesus. Maybe I will share my letter with you at some point for a good laugh. I also overspent my money and ended up in a financial scam. And every time I emerged from my ‘psychosis’, I felt so much shame and guilt!

And yet, each time and on each medication that would heavily sedate me, I never gave up. I pulled all my forces and continued to live. I managed to live in several countries, I got a PhD in England, I became a mum, and I care after our cat.

I feel always motivated to continue my life to the fullest. I work, I cook meals for my son. I meet with friends. I write.

My diagnosis is hanging above my head but I rarely engage in validating it. Yes, I did some weird things, but I recovered and kept on going. I found a doctor who prescribed me medication that works and doesn’t give me side effects. I reappeared at my work, where everyone knew that I thought I was Jesus, proud and standing tall, because I am good at my job and I love it.

I resumed my daily routine as if nothing bad had happened. I affirm every morning that I am capable, that I still deserve joy and some happiness in my life.

But my main motivation is to do well for the sake of my son. I need to raise him and this motivates me to act as an injured horse that recovers.

I get up, lick my wounds, and ride.