LIVING WITH CYCLOTHYMIA AND PANIC DISORDER
Some battles are invisible, but they still shape who we become.
For much of my life, I knew something was different, but I did not always have the words to explain it.
Like many people, I experienced periods where life seemed easier to manage and other times when everything felt more difficult. There were times when my energy, confidence and motivation seemed to come naturally, and other times when I struggled with anxiety, self doubt and the feeling that I was carrying more than I could comfortably manage.
Eventually, I came to understand that part of that experience was cyclothymia.
Cyclothymia is often described as a milder form of bipolar disorder, but living with it is not always simple. It can mean periods of feeling positive, productive and driven, followed by periods where your mood drops and everyday life becomes more challenging.
For me, it has never been about labels. It has been about understanding myself better.
Alongside cyclothymia, I also live with panic disorder.
If you have never experienced a panic attack, it can be difficult to explain. A panic attack is not simply feeling worried or stressed. It can feel overwhelming, frightening and completely out of proportion to what is happening around you. Even when you know what is happening, it can still be incredibly difficult to manage in the moment.
Living with both conditions has taught me a great deal about resilience.
One of the most important lessons I have learned is to take life one day at a time.
With cyclothymia, there can be really good days and there can be difficult days. On the good days, you can sometimes feel as though you can take on the world. Your energy is higher, your motivation is stronger and you can often achieve far more than you expected.
The challenge is that those days do not always last forever.
On more difficult days, the opposite can be true. Things that seem straightforward to most people can suddenly feel much harder. Even simple tasks such as housework, replying to messages or getting organised can feel like you are climbing a mountain.
Sometimes, when you are having a bad day, your instinct is to withdraw from the world. You do not want to see anybody. You do not want to speak to anybody. You simply want to shut the door and be left alone.
That can be difficult for other people to understand, especially when they have seen you at your best. They see the confident, capable version of you and struggle to understand why things suddenly feel so different.
Over time, I have learned not to be too hard on myself when those difficult days come along. Tomorrow is another day, and just because today feels challenging does not mean it will always feel that way.
I have also learned how important it is to stay grounded. When life becomes busy, stressful or overwhelming, it is easy to lose perspective. Sometimes the best thing you can do is take a step back, give yourself space and recalibrate.
That might mean slowing down, reflecting, getting some rest or simply focusing on what is immediately in front of you rather than trying to carry the weight of everything at once.
For me, resilience is not about pretending everything is fine or trying to push through regardless. It is about understanding yourself, recognising when you need to pause and knowing that it is okay to take things one day at a time.
There was a time when my anxiety became so severe that I struggled to leave the house. At one point, I even used a walking stick, not because I physically needed it, but because it gave me something to hold onto and provided a sense of support and reassurance when I was outside.
Looking back, it is difficult to believe how much anxiety had taken hold of my life during that period.
What I am most proud of is that I did not give up.
Recovery was not instant and it was not easy. It took time, determination and a willingness to keep pushing myself forward, even when every instinct told me to retreat. Small steps eventually became bigger steps.
Today, I no longer need that walking stick. Not because the journey was easy, but because I refused to let anxiety define my future.
That experience taught me something important: progress is not always measured in giant leaps. Sometimes it is measured in the small victories that nobody else sees. Getting out of the house. Making a phone call. Meeting somebody for a coffee. Taking that next step when part of you wants to stay where it feels safe.
Those small victories matter. They add up over time, and they remind us that even when things feel overwhelming, we are capable of far more than we sometimes realise.
Anxiety can be a cruel thing.
For me, one of the hardest parts was not always the physical symptoms or the panic attacks. It was the way anxiety could distort my thinking and change how I viewed the world around me.
Anxiety has a way of making you question things that would not normally concern you. It can make you overanalyse conversations, doubt yourself and worry about what other people think of you. It can even affect relationships by convincing you that people are angry with you, disappointed in you or judging you when, in reality, none of those things may be true.
Looking back, I can see that anxiety often told me stories that simply were not true.
It would magnify small concerns into much bigger problems and make situations seem far worse than they really were. More often than not, the reality was the complete opposite of what anxiety was trying to convince me to believe.
One of the most important things I learned was not to trust every anxious thought that entered my head. Feelings are real, but they are not always accurate. Sometimes anxiety creates a version of reality that simply does not exist.
Learning to challenge those thoughts, step back and look at situations more objectively has been an important part of my journey. It is not always easy, but it has helped me understand that anxiety does not get the final say in how I see myself, my relationships or the world around me.
One of the biggest things I have learned is that mental health challenges do not define a person.
They are part of my story, but they are not the whole story.
I am a councillor.
I am a survivor.
I am a parent and grandparent.
I am somebody who cares deeply about communities and public service.
Those things are just as much a part of who I am as any diagnosis.
I do not share my experiences because I want sympathy. I share them because I know there will be other people reading this who may recognise some of what I have described.
If that is you, please know that you are not alone.
There is no shame in asking for help.
There is no shame in seeking support.
And there is certainly no shame in talking honestly about what you are going through.
Most of all, I have learned that strength is not about pretending everything is fine.
Sometimes, strength is simply about keeping going.
One step at a time.