Leanne Williams' life with Bipolar disorder

Leanne Williams was 22 when she was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. Here the 31-year-old reveals the challenges and heartbreak of delusions, paranoia and of feeling shunned.

It was in 2009 when my mania peaked properly for the first time.

It was the height of an offensive by US and British forces against the Taliban in Afghanistan.

Despite living a world away in Mountain Ash in the south Wales valleys, I became obsessed by it.

I had just been discharged from psychiatric care at hospital.

But after leaving, I marched straight to the Army Careers Information Office in Pontypridd, telling the officer I wanted to go to Afghanistan and fight the Taliban.

I remember him looking at me blankly and asking, "Are you ok?"

Of course I was okay - more than okay. I was raving, flying, on the biggest high of my life.

And unless people were with me on my quest to save the world, they were against me.

This was one of the worst episodes of mania - one of the conditions of Bipolar disorder.

I was 22 and had just been diagnosed after being sectioned for 28 days for behaving erratically.

But Bipolar is not an easy disorder to treat and the medicines I was initially put on weren't working.

So that summer, I continued my delusional crusade to save the world from terror.

I went to the RAF recruitment centre in Cardiff.

I walked in, eating a pasty and getting crumbs all over the floor, insisting I needed to go to Afghanistan.

The officer just yelled, "It's not a holiday destination!" and kicked me out.

Again and again I continued my quest - harassing the police, council officers, local councillors.

More than this, I wanted to change the look of my community.

I wanted flower boxes on the front of all the houses, everything painted up looking lovely, the streets cleaned and boats on the river.

I was frantic - a one-woman protest, seeing the world in bright colours and dancing everywhere with super strength that enabled me to leap high off the floor.

Best of all, I was going to pay for my plans by investing in Bitcoin and becoming a multimillionaire.

It was the biggest buzz ever.

But by now, the days I hadn't slept were clocking up, and the psychosis - a disconnection from reality - was getting out of control.

Ultimately, such a high couldn't last and once I did come crashing down in the September, I went fast.

I had to deal with the realisation that everything I had experienced over the previous months had, in essence, been a dream.

I hadn't bought the Bitcoin, and my parents had thankfully managed to cancel most of my loan requests.

I had no job, and was aware that people in the local community thought I was nuts.

"How's the Taliban, Leanne?" people would shout if they saw me, while others crossed the road to avoid me.

More than this, I felt utter shame and guilt about how I'd behaved while manic.

How could I have treated people - my family and the police - so badly?

Depression - the other side of bipolar - kicked in.

I moved back in with my parents and then spent the next six months hoping I would die.

I would sleep for 16 -18 hours a day, gained five stone in weight and barely left the house.

This might have been the first major episode of manic depression I encountered - but it wouldn't be the last.

Throughout the next six years - between 2009 and 2014 - there were more psychotic episodes where I ended up sectioned.

Once I turned up at Cardiff Airport, shouting and screaming because I wanted to fly to Scotland for a festival but had forgotten my passport.

At the time, President Obama was in Newport for the 2014 Nato summit, so security was heightened and no one was very impressed with me.

Other times I was picked up off the streets, causing trouble and paranoid I was being "watched".

Kicking and screaming, I'd be put in the back of a riot van and taken away.

Initially, I ended up at a facility which I found a terrible experience.

I had no dignity, was often searched, and had no access to outdoor space.

What is Bipolar disorder

SOURCE: NHS

As I hit out at staff, I was told I must cooperate or I'd "be jabbed" (injected with medication) - which was simply terrifying given my delusions.

All the patients with different mental conditions were lumped in together and just paced the floor like rats in a cage.

It was punishment, not treatment.

The next place I went to - where I went in 2014 for six months - was better.

It had outdoor spaces, a gym and therapy rooms.

I met all kinds of people - a teacher, an ex-royal marine and teenagers - and bizarrely built some strong friendships.

But by this time, I was a mother to a one-year-old. And although I hadn't been ill during my pregnancy, here I was, locked up and out of it.

I can't describe how desperate it was being separated from him, and worrying I'd never get him back.

In hindsight, however, being sectioned was probably the best thing that could have happened to me at this point.

It helped me gain more understanding of my illness and taught me to seek help.

Although I am often still hyper, I am on the correct medication for me now.

I get a correct amount of sleep and do mindfulness, and haven't had a serious manic episode since 2014.

My child - now five - lives with me 50% of the time, and I am in constant touch with a psychiatrist and support worker.

Most importantly, I am better able to spot the symptoms of becoming manic so I can get help before it gets out of control.

Bipolar is a cruel condition.

There is no reason why I got it. There is no history of it in the family, and I had no trauma in my childhood - which can sometimes be a trigger.

Over the past decade, I have spent a long time feeling guilty, ashamed, embarrassed, and, at times, suicidal.

I've also lived my life terrified of being hit by another manic episode.

Now, though, I don't feel that.

I know, with help, I can manage the condition and can rebuild my life after a breakdown.

I write a blog now called BipolarExplained because I just want to tell other sufferers out there that there is hope.