April Unscripted: Hindsight and other annoying things

April Unscripted – Issue #10 (October 2026)

Hello wonders,

Firstly, if you’re a friend or loved one, do me a favour and don’t read this. Said with a ‘haha’.

Secondly, I promise I’ll stop talking about this episode at some point. However, it’s rudely come to my attention that it’s not going to be the usual pattern where I wake up one day and the fog has fully lifted.

It’s what I imagine is the equivalent of being in a terrible accident. It takes time to heal. My mind was shattered into a million pieces, and olanzapine is doing the Lord’s work trying to piece it back together.

With that in mind, the theme this month is hindsight.

Let’s talk about hindsight, baby

Show of hands who hates “hindsight”! I might hate it more than “self-care”.

In hindsight, I should have seen my psychiatrist sooner.

In hindsight, I should have removed the sharp objects from my apartment sooner.

In hindsight, I shouldn’t have had that last drink.

In hindsight, I probably should have been hospitalised.

“Hindsight” feels so pointless.

It feels solely negative too. You rarely, if at all, say, “In hindsight, I totally nailed that, it was perfect. No notes”.

At most you’d say, “In hindsight, I made the right decision.” Boy, I wish I had an example of that when it comes to this episode.

In hindsight, I did do everything I was taught to do and still fell into such a severe and dangerous episode. I was so mad, I’m still so mad.

Anger, rebellion and Buzzballz

As soon as I found the will to live again, and my big toe wiggled (see Issue #8 for reference), I did indeed turn to anger. I’m angry it got this bad and went this far and I’m still not 100% out of the woods. I know I’m being hard on myself, everyone else around me keeps saying it’s baby steps. I’m a full-grown adult, and I’m enraged.

I channelled that anger into drinking. I rebelled. It was the only time I felt my personality coursing through my veins again, the only time my mind felt creative, the only time I was guaranteed to sleep. I rebelled, but not in a self-destructive way (although I’m sure there are those who would beg to differ). In a way, I felt like I needed to make up for lost time and at the same time realised how fragile life is and I should (cliché incoming) live each day to the full. I had spent the best part of four months barricaded in my apartment, so if I wanted to stay up all night on the sofa talking to a friend, I damn well will.

Anyway, back to the booze.

It started slowly -

“Oh, it’s 7pm, I’ll have a beer with dinner.” 

“Oh, it’s 5pm, well that’s Happy Hour, I’ll have a beer.”

“No one will know if I have a beer at 1pm, at least it’s not the morning.”

“Beer is bloating me, let’s switch to spirits.”

“Spirits are expensive if I keep drinking at this rate. Ooo let’s turn to Buzzballz.”

Buzzballz are cheap and high in alcohol. It’s also a female run company, so a superb cause for me to support…?

Before I knew it, I was drinking alone. Every day. For weeks. That’s painful to admit.

The year I’m having has been one I’ve dreaded for years. There’s this notion that once you get a diagnosis things will get easier, and it does. Receiving a bipolar diagnosis saves lives, it certainly saved mine. However, the older I get the more I struggle with it, not by a lot but it does chip away.

On top of that, I now appear to be dealing with alcohol withdrawals. So cute.

Don’t you just hate it when your psychiatrist is right?

My psychiatrist asked me if I needed support and to taper off. I brushed her off: “Oh, it’s not that bad, I’ll be fine. I’ll just stop”. In hindsight (sigh), she was right.

I’ve always been able to hold my liquor, so I thought I’d shrug it off. Where in reality, one night I was drinking ten beers and three gin and tonics, and then the next day drinking six Buzzballz… This was not your normal night out on the town.

Many of the symptoms of alcohol withdrawal are akin with bipolar, so it’s been hard to differentiate. But when the insomnia (despite being heavily medicated) kicked in, the tremors, fever and heavy sweating, I knew things had gone too far.

I do wonder if I would have skipped over the booze part of this episode if I had been hospitalised, or if my roommate had been in town. Perhaps, if there was someone else home, I would have pulled things together quicker.

Look, it’s not all doom and gloom

My best friend and I are back to texting every waking moment of the day. I’m calling my mum again. I’m saying "yes" to friends’ invites again. Holding conversations where the person is louder than the press conference in my head and, believe it or not, I’ve gone on a couple of dates.

I’ve also recently met a handful of new people who have had an unusually profound effect on my life. Whether they'll stay in my life or not, it doesn’t matter. Reasons, seasons, lifetimes. The Universe (who is still not in my good books) kindly dropped the right people at the right time who reminded me what life is all about.

Shout out to my fellow Libras

It was my birthday on 30 September. Celebrations went on for two weeks. I text my best friend: “Why am I celebrating my 36^th like it’s my 40^th?”

Without missing a beat, they replied: “Because you nearly died.”

It wasn’t that dramatic, but it was that serious.

At my party, a friend decided to trick me and sit everyone down in a circle and go round saying one thing they loved about me, and a favourite memory. As you can imagine, I was mortified, but in hindsight...WAIT! Oh my God, a positive ‘hindsight’. Dammit, I hate when I prove myself wrong. Even more than when my psychiatrist is right!

In hindsight, it was invaluable to be reminded of all the great memories I’ve had with the people I adore. I had very much lost sight of those.

Side note: these were all occasions where I could drink guilt free! I jest. Although my goal isn’t to become sober, it’s to stop drinking on my own… so, sue me if I find people to drink with!

Okay, how to end this issue. How. To. End. It.

A toast? Too soon?

The great unknown

If you’re trying to give something up, or take a break from it, please, please don’t beat yourself up if there’s a hiccup. It won’t ruin the work you’ve already invested in yourself.

As an ambassador, you and the charity knew you wouldn’t be getting rose tinted glasses with me. I was always going to ruffle some feathers. Let’s see if I can get away with what I’m about to say…

Life is not easy. The only way my life would be easier as of now, is if I wasn’t here. This is not to be mistaken for suicidal ideation. In my mind, it’s a scientific fact… Now, more than ever, after this episode, everything feels so unknown, so uncertain for me.

My career could be over with a snap of a finger, at any moment. Someone I love could drop dead tomorrow. What if money dries up? I don’t think I’ll ever find my person and get married. Kids? Who knows, although adoption sounds beautiful. Whilst I’m here, AI is terrifying.

Unfortunately, not being here simply cannot be an option. The undeniable pain I’ve been in over these last few months is far more bearable than the pain I might inflict if I was to tap out. I also know there is undeniable joy around a corner somewhere.

Oh! I know how I want to end this…

Our campaign film: Maybe it’s bipolar? has been selected as one of 23 finalists for the Piccadilly Lights Spotlight Prize at the 2026 Big Syn International Film Festival, from more than 1,000 entries spanning 120 countries. We now have a chance to see bipolar represented on Europe’s biggest screen at Piccadilly Circus!

To vote, all you have to do is like this post.

1 like = 1 vote. We’re up against films from around the world, some backed by enormous budgets, so every vote really does count.

It would mean a great deal to myself, Rosie, the crew and everyone at Bipolar UK.

See you in November!

Lots of love,

April x