April Unscripted: Me, my meds and I

April Unscripted – Issue #5 (April 2026)

Hello wonders,

Let’s get into the turbulent topic of medication for bipolar, and I’ll cut to the chase…

I’m on three types:

• Lamotrigin
• Quetiapin
• Prolonged Quetiapine

And a bonus medication, Olanzapine, which I describe as the ejector seat. If I can sense a harmful episode coming on, I take that tablet and it knocks me out, so I don’t do any damage to myself.

I take seven tablets a day. That’s 2,555 tablets a year. Insane, when you do the maths.

My relationship with bipolar meds

I used to be angry and stubborn about being on medication. I was on meds from the age of 18, then in my early 20s I made the grave mistake of taking myself off them suddenly. Cold turkey. No tapering! 

Ironically, it made people question if I was on drugs because of the rapid, involuntary eye twitching. I was fed up with feeling numb, not feeling any emotion, and had convinced myself I’d be able to remain stable on herbal remedies. And hey — look — I’m sure there are people achieving that, and quite frankly I’m jealous.

These days, I’m less angry and more concerned about what it’s doing to my insides, skin, hair… anything non‑mind related. I’m sure I could find out, but I’m scared, and I wouldn’t know what to do with that information anyway. For me, medication is the only reason I’m functioning in this world.

Finding the right mix

I was diagnosed with bipolar eight years ago, and it took five years to work out the best concoction of medications for me. What a wild trip it was before we landed on the perfect potion. Tremors, benders, breakdowns, numbness, self‑harm, and self‑medicating when the professional medication wasn’t doing its job.

My biggest worry these days isn’t wondering if I’ll ever come off medication, I know that won’t be the case for me. You can put the tiny violins away! I’ve made peace with that. My fear is: What if this concoction stops working? My psychiatrist has already upped the Lamotrigine to the highest dose permitted. We’ve split the Prolonged Quetiapine — one in the morning, one in the evening — to ease the rampant anxiety.

Lithi...ummmmm?

I asked my psychiatrist (who is wonderful, by the way, saved my life and was the first person ever to acknowledge my trauma) what the plan would be if this combination stopped working. I assumed we couldn’t just keep adding more medications with names I can’t pronounce. She said lithium would be the next course of action. Now, look — I’m famously no medical expert — but I know lithium is kind of the end of the medication road, especially for me, who has been on pretty much all the others. So, unless my hormones decide that one of the old meds, like Aripiprazole (I can’t say this one to save my life), is now the answer… then, yeah, it’s lithium.

I left that session agreeing. Then I sat there quietly, knowing I was too scared to ask my follow‑up question:
What happens if lithium stops working?

And look, guys, I’m not saying lithium is the end of the road for everyone. Far from it. I’m speaking to my journey.

My ol’ pal, Quetiapine

I went from someone who returned to medication kicking and screaming, to someone who is grateful to live in a time where it exists. I owe most of my productivity over the last couple of years to it. In particular, Quetiapine, my faithful ol’ pal. 

Sleep has always been a problem for me, which feels strange for someone with bipolar type 2, but it’s when the demon tends to visit most. No amount of warm milk or Family Guy reruns could speed things up… until Quetiapine.

I pop one of those bad boys and everyone around me knows they have 40 minutes max until I’m out of action. I’m now dependent on Quetiapine. I simply don’t sleep without it. Perhaps I shouldn’t admit that, but I’m not ashamed to and it feels worth raising awareness of. On the rare occasions I’m away and realise I’ve forgotten it, panic sets in.

“Prove it” you may exclaim, and I’m so glad you did.

Sleep, where art thou?

I had this experience last week that was equal parts alarming and fascinating. 

As you know, I now live on the other side of the world, eight hours behind the UK. I’m currently producing a film set in the UK, which means early mornings so I don’t miss business hours. And anyone who really knows me knows I can’t stand getting up early. Waking up is bad enough on its own — ugh, I’ve got to do this all over again — but before 7am? Vile. I’m groggy as hell from Quetiapine and need at least an hour and a half just to become a functioning adult.

Anyway, halfway through Thursday it became apparent that I needed to stay up late and wake up early in order to make the most of Friday, so I told Sara (business partner) I just wouldn’t take my meds.*

Forty hours later… FORTY HOURS LATER, I was still awake. No exaggeration. Impressive! No? Just me? Okay, okay, it was a really silly thing to do, but candidly I needed to do it and knew my inability to sleep was going to come in handy. But it’s all about balance, because at the same time I can sleep 14 hours straight, no wee needed.

*DISCLAIMER

The Bipolar UK comms team would like it noted (loudly) that the charity does not support skipping medication or going extended periods without sleep. 

Fair. Nor do I. Please do not try this at home (or work, or anywhere). 

Right, I’m off to sleep now, honest

Wherever you might be on your medication journey — whether you’re on it, coming off it, or somewhere in between — try to make decisions based on how you’re feeling mentally and physically. Don’t let stigma or public opinion sway you, and be mindful that even loved ones, however well‑meaning, may not always know what’s best for you.

Trust your therapist and/or psychiatrist, and especially trust them enough to speak up when something feels off and be honest with them.

Right, gotta go. Took my Quetiapine 35 mins ago.

Lots of love,

April x