I suffer from Manic Depression. Highs and Lows. A mental illness, although, thinking about the number of sufferers I’ve met, it seems almost normal. Manic Depression, for those that aren’t aware, results in a series of “High” and “Low” periods. During the high periods (and this is how it affects me…others may differ), I just want to work. Can’t sit still. Can’t sleep. 3-4 hours kip in a couple of days is the norm. Life and soul of the party. I’m Manic for most of my life, but then comes the low times. Don’t want to do anything. Don’t want to see anyone. Miserable. Can last a few days, can last months. So here’s a brief bit about how it affected me.

Even as a kid, I was always the oddball. The naughty boy. Also, I always seemed to get caught. As I reached puberty, I became sillier. Couldn’t stop messing about, and started building funny motorcycles. The day after my 19th birthday, I was married with a kid on the way. I’d started building cars and chops, but, because they were different, I was always getting stopped, to the point where I got banned from driving so many times you wouldn’t believe it. Ended up doing a term in prison for drunk driving and driving whilst disqualified (for the third time). By now, I had a wife, kids and a girlfriend, and juggling them about and lying to both of them finally took its toll, and I took an overdose (26 years old). It was the good old “Cry for help”. Ended up in Hospital being pumped out. I remember very vaguely, my parents taking me to see a nice man, but everything around then was a bit of a blur. Turns out he was the Shrink that got you committed. He thought I was normal. Eventually I could no longer cope with the domestic crap, and, as they say, “Got on my bike”. I left town and just drove. I drove until I ended up where I am now, in Norfolk, and started “Desperates”. I eventually moved to Leighton Buzzard.
The shop was doing better than I ever imagined, but I could feel myself getting severely stressed. A number of little things sent me over the top. My best mate died for a start, then an elderly relative died in my arms (I had to carry him to the bedroom and close his eyes), and I witnessed two 8-year old twins get wiped out on a Zebra Crossing. That flipped me. I went home and went on a “Bender”. Leighton Buzzard really was a madhouse, and I craved peace and quiet. I moved back to Yarmouth, not realising I’d just gone through a nervous breakdown (number two). Couldn’t understand why my hands were shaking and I couldn’t talk to people.
The move worked for a while, but my intention to scale down didn’t, and the shop got busier and busier. I began to dread going in, but didn’t know why, as I loved the building part of my job. My Dad died, and that didn’t help. I went to his funeral, but shook so much I left the wake. Not long after that, I was badly burnt in a fire and bedridden for three months. A year after my Dad died, my Mum re-married. I was supposed to be a witness at the wedding. My hands were shaking so bad I was unable to sign anything, and got my younger brother to do it. The second the ceremony was over, I got the hell out of the crowd of relatives. I didn’t go to her reception. Things were getting bad. I unplugged the phone on “off” days, went ex-directory, had no sign outside the shop, and had a PO Box number I never collected the mail from. I was becoming unapproachable, but my work was still good. Most mornings I’d open up at 3am and work ‘till 10pm. I laid off all my staff, intending to finish a few remaining jobs on my own (like…two and a half years worth of orders) and scale things down. After all, I‘d been doing “Desperates“ for 20 years.
Then, one morning, I turned up at the workshop, opened up, took one look inside, re-locked the door, and never returned. I had suffered a cataclysmic nervous breakdown.

It’s been difficult writing this. There’s a second part to my story. The crap healthcare, the useless Social Workers, the endless drugs they shoved down me, the so-called mental health experts and the support I got from Lynne, my missus. Without her I’d have blown my brains out years ago. And my eventual recovery. It took a while!
I’ll do the second part later. Hope I haven’t bored you. Chris Ireland.