It has been the most baffling month. On one hand I have pushed myself so far outside my comfort zone that I have found my people, my conversations and my way of thinking. On the other, I feel as though I have lost myself altogether.

I had the pleasure of attending Pride in London, Trans+ Pride, and a talk about Pride + Progress with the LGBT+ Humanists. All of these occasions have been good for my ever wavering confidence. It is a relief to put a name that feels right to my belief system and way of living. What strikes me most is how many different conversations there are to be had about Humanism, while the central premise remains the same. Disagreement is welcomed inside rational discussion and does no harm. How wonderfully refreshing and, once you have seen the wood from the trees, how simple.

Yet I am pushed back into the familiar trap of buy now pay later doom spending as every job application is rejected. The embarrassment of being 33 and still unable to support myself is hard to describe. Friends are marrying, moving into houses and seemingly doing all right at life. I remain stuck.

I am always stuck.My accommodation is not at risk and most bills are covered because I live in university halls. That I still cannot afford a reasonable existence only underlines the despair of the situation. I am the grey cloud in every room. I hear what I sound like and I hate it. Motivation is there, a deep fire roaring to bring light to the intersection of mental health, arts, culture and exhibition, but I cannot afford to commute around London, let alone feed myself properly or maintain a routine.

Ironically, I thrive when life is stressful and full. I hate it at the time, yet it is when I produce my best work. I did not choose this to be the summer of unemployment and despair. At the start of the break I emailed attractions, spaces, exhibitions and events. The replies, when they came, were the familiar “we don’t talk to journalism students,” or simply silence.

The bipolar brain is struggling with the empty time. I spend so long worrying about getting things done that whole days disappear staring at walls or doom scrolling in search of inspiration. Neither helps. The mind works in grandiose resets: the perfect clear out, the deep clean, throwing everything at every idea until burnout arrives and even basic self care collapses.

Today is one of those days. I have again thrown a load of stuff out, given the room a blitz, and now sit writing this as if it were the most constructive thing I could be doing. I have finished a play that still needs editing, yet this post somehow feels more urgent. I cannot imagine why, it is just me complaining about having no money.

It is hard to describe what is going on in my head. It is as if the quetiapine is only half working: a crack somewhere, so much leaking out while the remnants fight for logic inside a storm of urgent nothingness.

There is the small task of pulling my whole life together by the time this degree ends. Advice and direction arrive when it suits the people giving them. They are not interested in entertaining an existential crisis, and they are unaware that my mind is already telling me to blow everything apart simply to confirm its own predictions.

This post has been utterly riveting, hasn’t it? I feel the frustration too. There is little I can do to improve my situation as it stands, and I hate that. I want to hit the ground running. A little support could go a long way, but the systems do not work that way. It would be easy to give up. I often question what the point of any of this is.

And there is the macabre thought of why I even bothered to fight when the overdose in 2023 could have cost me my liver. Life looks different on the surface, yet the same worries, stressors and patterns remain. It is relentless.

If you are struggling with your mental health, support is available.
Samaritans: call 116 123 or visit samaritans.org (free, 24/7)
Mind: mind.org.uk or call 0300 123 3393
Bipolar UK: bipolaruk.org
NHS mental health information and local services: nhs.uk/mental-health
In an emergency, call 999 or go to A&E.