'When a stranger gave me a drug in Istanbul, it was the beginning of my lifelong nightmare.'

"Hey, do you want to try this?" 

Alice Martin didn't know the guy who offered her the drug, Captagon — but she was young, travelling and immersing herself in the culture of Istanbul. 

"It tastes just like coffee," he told her.

Alice had been travelling with her brother and some friends, exploring Madrid and Bulgaria before moving on to Istanbul by herself. 

After taking the drug, a synthetic amphetamine-type stimulant popular in the Middle East, Alice felt chatty and hyper-fixated on the conversations she was having. 

Watch: Jackie O opens up about drug addiction. Article continues below.

"I felt really awake, clear and alert. I didn't sleep that night. I hardly slept for a few days," she told Mamamia. 

"Then, after the lack of sleep, I started doing some risky things, feeling really light and elevated.

"I was feeling really good, on top of the world. Really powerful. And then, things became too intense."

Alice began to experience psychosis — though she didn't know that's what was happening.

"The change in my perception came slowly. The graphics of my visual hallucinations were good. The auditory hallucinations were also quite on point. I simply didn't know I was psychotic, whilst I was."

The situation quickly turned scary for Alice, who "felt horrified" about what she was seeing, feeling, and experiencing, she explained.

"Basically, everything had such intricate connections with each other, and the timing of things was so important. At one stage, I believed that I had to dance around the kitchen in order to be able to open the fridge and turn the lights on.

"There were simple delusions and more complex ones," she said — such as believing the Syrian refugee she'd befriended during her travels, Houssain, being "implanted with some technology tracker.

"On one occasion, I saw his head turn into a bull's head."

In the end, it was Houssain who saved her life.

"We had an instant connection, and I felt really at home with him," says Alice. 

"I don't know how or why he did it, but he stuck by me and looked out for me when I started to lose touch with reality."

Houssain had seen others have a similar reaction to Captagon, but while others got better after a day or so, Alice's symptoms were not going anywhere. In fact, they were getting worse. 

"He reached out to my family on Facebook and kept me safe, physically lying by the door to prevent me going walkabout in the night."

At the time, though, Alice believed everyone was against her.

"I was not in my right headspace, my mind was corrupted — like a computer with a virus blasted all over its screen going wild. I didn't know what to trust, so naturally this internal lack of trust manifested into the real world, where I did not know who to trust around me.

"I just did not think that Mum and my brother were going to arrive in Turkey. There were so many little moments of delusion and events that were occurring that pointed to them not being able to arrive."

When her family did get to her, they tried to help Alice as best as they could, but the hallucinations were strong and intense.

"I heard bombs going off. It was all very real to me. Mum would just have to calm me down. The delusions were strong, the voices in my head were strong.

"To be honest, they didn't feel like voices, they felt like many layers of thoughts, though they presented differently to my own normal internal monologue. They sounded like other people's voices."

When they returned to Australia, Alice thought everything would be fine. She was safe, she thought — but she was still in denial.

"When I went into USpace [a private mental health service targeted to the needs of 16- to 30-year-olds], the process was hard and I wasn't very happy with the waiting and the retelling of my story and the time spent in admission.

Alice was told she had drug-induced psychosis, triggered by the Captagon. 

"When I met my psychiatrist in USpace, I was finally able to acknowledge I had psychosis," she said.

It took about a year for Alice to feel like herself again. 

"I did do things in the meantime that made me feel momentarily like myself. I was back working after about nine months, following a 10-week training course to be an English as a Second Language teacher. 

"I started feeling like myself during a family holiday in December, though I was still blunted emotionally, numb, and had this feeling that I would never be able to joke around again and have a bit of banter."

Then Alice went on a yoga retreat in Bali. It had been about six months since she'd stopped taking her medication. 

The trip didn't go as planned, and Alice experienced another psychotic episode.

"This time, no recreational drugs were involved, it was simply stress-induced."

This was the last thing Alice expected, or wanted, but it led to an official diagnosis of Bipolar Affective Disorder. 

"I preferred the name 'manic depression' to bipolar, because I believed this captured the high and low periods and wasn't used colloquially," she said.

Since her diagnosis, Alice hasn't experienced any further psychosis or mania. She went on to study psychology and is now undertaking a Masters of Clinical Psychology. 

Ten years on, Alice says the most important lesson she's learnt about mental health is to avoid comparing yourself to anyone else throughout the journey.

"Your experiences are unique," she said, adding this advice for others: "Consider the benefits of working with others, like GPs, psychologists, psychiatrists, youth or support groups. If something's not right in your treatment, though, don't be afraid to voice it. You are the expert of you. 

"If something isn't working for you, ask questions, and know that you are not alone. SANE has forums. Lifeline is 24/7. There are many people who can help you and your family members."

Family has also been instrumental in Alice's recovery; her mum, Sarah Martin, has even written a book about her daughter's experience, called Dear Psychosis.

"I can't speak more highly of them. I lost my grandma Juju recently, and she said just before she passed, 'You've had a lot of tough things to do, and you've done them.'"

"And that's right, I've done them; I continue to do them. It is just one day at a time."

If you think you may be experiencing depression or another mental health problem, please contact your GP or health professional. If you're based in Australia, 24-hour support is available through Lifeline on 13 11 14, beyondblue on 1300 22 4636 or the Suicide Call Back Service on 1300 659 467. In an emergency call 000.

Feature image: Supplied.