“Hi, we’re here from Headroom. May we come in?”
That was the first time that I answered the door following three weeks in Hafan Y Coed in Cardiff, the first time I’d spoken to someone knocking at my door. I was scared, who were these people and what did they want? What’s Headroom?
I learnt a lot about Headroom since then. Life in general, too. It’s been over three years since I’ve had psychosis. At first, the recovery was hard – I’d do everything myself, even if I wasn’t well enough to do so. From moving to Germany six months after, shutting off close people; I even remember cycling over 10 miles to pick up a pair of soup cups from north Cardiff once. I cycled down three flights of steps I didn’t see and nearly crashed.
I thought the worst was going to happen. It didn’t, but the memories of desperation remain.

I don’t think about those times so much anymore. I practise self-care fairly often, and though things are far from perfect, they’re stable. The medication is hard, but I’m stable. The weight gain is a huge sticking point, but, I’m stable. Stability was the one factor that had eluded me for years following the psychosis and other hospitalisations.
That said, I achieved a lot after and while I was unwell: I got a first-class degree and maintained a two-and-a-half-year relationship. I performed in London with the London Sinfonietta, a leading modern music ensemble and played some music for the BBC, too.
“Just because life feels different your flow will change, but it won’t go” I had told myself.
Recently, I found out that my friend’s brother had alcohol-induced psychosis, otherwise known as Korsakoff syndrome. It brought a lot of memories back but, it made me reflect on how far I’ve come.
I no longer have delusions of grandeur, living quite a busy yet chilled-out life. I no longer suffer from paranoia and feelings of persecution, instead, I fondly think of all the people who helped me reach this point. I don’t feel dissociated to an abnormal degree, though the meds do contribute to a life with less ‘edge’ and action. I don’t live in a prodromal phase* of life all the time, which was hard and led to me not cooking and keeping poor hygiene. I can now hold down a job, I can have relationships. I can be.

I’m coming off the medication next month. My aspirations are upping my hours at work, forming closer relationships with my students (I’m a peripatetic music teacher), finding a reliable relationship, branching out to guitar with my hobbies and performing with the local philharmonic orchestra on brass instruments.
Life is different for a while after psychosis. You won’t feel like yourself and there might be rifts in your life. It might feel empty or depressing. It doesn’t end, though. You might be a deeper person because of it. You might be more understanding.
Mistakes can round you out and help you start a conversation with someone who may need it. If you never set a foot wrong, you never walked your path in the first place.
Beth is a musician and music teacher living in West Sussex since the end of 2023.
- Headroom works with young people aged between 14 and 25 who are experiencing their first episode of psychosis. It is a multidisciplinary team delivering a service through partnerships with Barnardo’s and CAMHS (Children and Adolescent Mental Health Services). The team is focused on working with young people, their families, peers, and the community to achieve personal recovery and social participation following psychosis.
- *Prodromal psychosis is the early stage of psychosis, characterized by a gradual change in a person’s thoughts, perceptions, behaviours, and functioning. It can last from a few days to around 18 months.