A DJ saved my life

The last decade (my thirties) was a time that was dominated by extreme moods, both high and low. In spite of having good friends and a loving family, I felt a deep-seated sense of loneliness. In 2009, aged 31 I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder and spent the following 6 years in and out of psychiatric hospitals with bouts of mania and psychosis.

"He was the object of my desire and adoration at times."

During this decade there was one man, a radio DJ (who I will call Jack), who became many things to me. He was the object of my desire and adoration at times, extending to an obsession during manic times, and, at other more stable times, an old friend, an inspiration and an idol, whom I instinctively trusted completely. He became my virtual confidant; I would email/message him about my life and my emotions and from time to time he’d send me messages of support and encouragement. Jack was never anything other than kind, respectful and professional. I have met him only a handful of times but he has been a constant presence in my life on account of his voice beaming out of the radio into my bedroom/living room/hospital bedroom on a daily basis.

"I’d spend literally weeks under the duvet feeling unable to communicate with friends and family, I’d confide in him that I was struggling"

During serious depressions when I’d spend literally weeks under the duvet feeling unable to communicate with friends and family, I’d confide in him that I was struggling and his brief but kind messages helped me take small steps to keep going. However my attachment to him at times was such that on several occasions, shortly before I was due to see him at a public gig or festival, I would get over-excited, lose sleep and end up in a manic phase. During the height of mania, my obsession for him drove me to do reckless things. For example, in 2011 I escaped from hospital (on his birthday) and jumped off Waterloo bridge (This was not a suicide attempt but an act that occurred while I was suffering from euphoric psychosis).

Perhaps the start of my road to recovery was my 2015 admission to The Priory (which was funded by the NHS on account of there being no available beds in the local NHS hospitals). My stay at The Priory, as you might expect, was a far less traumatizing experience than being on an NHS psychiatric ward.

"I have learned to moderate my intake of all things that are appealing and therefore generally bad for your health. This included, during some periods, limiting the time I spent listening to the radio."