I’m trying very hard to concentrate while I write this over Janice’s voice. She has a New York accent and she’s being quite loud today.

‘I’m blogging,’ I tell her.

‘No you’re not, you’re ignoring me. Anyway, I was watching the new Star Trek film last night…’

‘I know. I was there,’ I say absently.

‘My god, that Benedict Cumberbatch does things to me.’

‘I don’t want to know,’ I say but I can’t help but smile because he sort of does things to me too.

‘That Sherlock could frisk me all over. And his friend.’

‘Who?’

‘The other one.’

‘Dr Watson?’

She nods and I note how unusual it is for her to be this quiet for this long.

‘He was in the hobbit,’ I say.

‘Hey,’ she whispers. ‘Do you think he’s hobbit sized all over?’

I slam my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block out her voice. I’m ignoring… I’m ignoring…

She carries on yammering regardless, which is the only way I can describe the way she speaks. Loud, insistent, and often very, very funny. She makes me laugh out loud, which is a feat, and most of the time she’s good company. But right now I’m blogging so I don’t want to be disturbed, but when someone lives in your head it’s not so easy to turn them off.

One thing I find odd about Janice is she’s always talking about men, she’s constantly flirting, and always saying things which make me cringe or laugh. She’s the total opposite of me. I carry on writing. I’m ignoring… I’m ignoring…

‘…and who doesn’t love to be naked and covered in jelly,’ she says and the surprise of it makes me laugh. This is all a bit much for 6.30 in the morning.

It’s strange living with someone who comes and goes but essentially lives in your head and is nothing like you are. It’s weird, don’t you think I know it’s weird? I can no sooner predict what’s about to come out of her mouth than I could predict what you might be about to say. But it’s cool. She doesn’t cause me any grief, she’s loud and it stops me concentrating at times but she’s never pushy. She doesn’t tell me to kill anyone in their sleep or steal cars. She’d probably like it if we bought a few more handbags but she’s mostly happy to talk… and talk.

The trouble is that she does herald the start of an episode usually. Things get loud in my head when she’s around. They get confusing and fast and exciting and I stop caring about the things I usually care about like my husband’s feelings, my responsibilities, the routine things that need doing and I start to care instead about making life exciting and fun and just a little bit scary. I start applying for new jobs, usually paying £200k a year and way out of my league but then I’m a genius, you know, and if someone else can do it then I can DEFINITELY do it. They’d be mad not to let me try because knowing how good I am I’d probably give them £250k’s worth of work!

It’s also a time when I can get lots of things done. If I’ve wanted to do a course I will sometimes sign up to 5 and get them all done within a month. In that sense I wish there was a way to motivate me to do the housework in such an efficient manner. It seems that no one’s ever ill enough to fancy bleaching the bog.

But it’s not all fun and games when the real mania comes on. This is going to be difficult to explain because I don’t really understand what happens myself. There’s another person that takes over during the height of an episode. It’s almost like driving from the back seat of your car. She pushes me to the back of my brain so I can only see the back of my own eye sockets and everything she’s doing through them, but I have no control. I know what’s happening isn’t always right but what can I do? I’m not making excuses but I feel like a toddler whose mum is pushing her around the supermarket whilst serrupticiously putting things down her child’s jumper to steal. At the end of the day, the toddler will get frisked and whether she’s to blame or not she’ll feel the guilt of the act. That’s the trouble with bipolar. I’m always the one that takes the blame, no matter who was in charge at the time. I’m the responsible driver whose keys get stolen regularly.

Plus, I see things. People usually and they’re almost always hiding behind trees and bushes or lamp posts. I don’t know why my brain does that, makes them look as if they’re hiding. Laziness I suppose. It can’t be bothered to pick out an outfit for my hallucinations. I guess that’s one of the reasons I’ve never really been all that scared by them. They’re disconcerting, don’t get me wrong, but if I’m honest, when I first started seeing these Primark wannabees I was more scared by the thought that I’d be committed if I told anyone. Therefore I kept it secret for a good 3 years along with a lot of my symptoms. It’s only been the last few months that I’ve told anyone about Janice.

She doesn’t care. She’s too busy yammering.