Ekaterina Netchitailova

I am here to reclaim my personal power.

You see, I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

I am originally from Russia.

I am a single mother.

I am being silenced every single day.

But I have dreams. I want to become a published writer. I wrote three books.

I want to raise a good man, because I am a mother of an incredible son.

I want to meet my soulmate. I believe in that kind of love.

I want to work at an international level, because I feel I can make a difference.

I want it all.

But each day is  a struggle. I fight with unsurmountable  odds.  I wake up each morning  in pain. I lost all my family here (my cat, my stepdad, my mother, –  all died within last three years), I am not sure I am a good mother. I fear for my job because of my diagnosis and for being a foreigner. I am asking questions whether I should continue with psychiatric drugs or not, and I want a reform in the mental health sphere.

I want people to love each other, instead of senseless wars. I want to be friends with people, regardless of their gender, race, belief system or sexuality.

I want peace.

And I want to reclaim my personal power, but I don’t know how.

I am trying, nevertheless. Each day I repeat to myself in the mirror that I am capable and strong.

I remind myself of my achievements. I have a PhD, I speak four languages fluently, I lived in four different countries, I manage somehow to take care of both my son and my cat, despite being labelled as ‘bipolar’’. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but whom am I kidding?

Of course, it always matters what people think of you! It is a natural desire to be liked by others. We all want friends and occasional compliments. We do need people who will tell you that you are stronger than you think. We all need love and recognition. I am not talking about fame, I am talking about acceptance. Yes, I have had psychoses, but they don’t define my life. After each of them I was able to recover and sometimes, rebuild everything from scratch, because of unbelievable amount of stigma. They even joke about us online: ‘look at this piece of art made by a Schizophrenic inmate’ I saw a post only yesterday on X. Or ‘’Let’s see how long it will last’’, a sentence addressed to me from an acquaintance on Facebook after I announced that I had gotten a job as a senior lecturer. I am still in this position, five years after that nasty comment.

The thing is, what they call as illness, not only doesn’t define me, it made me who I am. I am very powerful. In my psychoses I see manifestations of God, I meet the devil, I get the belief I am an extraordinary human being, I am being told that I am awesome, that I can dream about whatever.

Psychosis isn’t a problem, the problem is how it is being treated by the society at large. You are immediately put on a killing dose of anti-psychotics and then released back into the community without any social support. Maybe my psychoses happened because of a trauma. Maybe I need actual social/psychological healing, instead of being confronted and shamed over and over again that I dared, that I dared to step aside from what is considered as normal.

One day though I decided that enough is enough and just went open about my status. Yes, I am diagnosed as ‘bipolar’ and no, I don’t feel sick.

I work at a job I love, I raise my son, I look after our cat. I have a lot of friends in different countries, I write about it, and I make my voice heard.

But most importantly, I fell in love with myself as a woman, and I treasure this aspect of my life that no one can challenge. I am a woman and I love being a woman. Each morning, after my mantra to start loving myself, I take extra care of my appearance. I gently rob my face with a tonic, I put serum on and then a face cream. And glowing and content, I then go downstairs to feed my cat and have my coffee and on some days I even love all other aspects of myself.

I am trying. Self-love is a powerful thing.