Salt Cravings, Dirty Fingernails, and Cracked Skin: The Physical Signs of My Mania

Abstract illustration representing the physical symptoms of a manic episode

What Happens to Your Body When Your Brain Breaks

By Liam Ronan

Nobody warned me about the salt. That sounds strange to say, but it’s true. During my manic episode, I was obsessed with salt. Not just craving it. Obsessed. I’d eat it straight from the salt shaker.

I’d chew vitamins and pills that had a mineral taste. I’d taste rocks. I’d crave anything with that sharp, mineral edge that made my mouth water and my throat tight.

I was listening and trying to make sense of the racing thoughts in my head, the clarity I thought they brought, the euphoria and the paranoia. I didn’t realize that my body was screaming for something. That those salt cravings weren’t just a weird quirk. They were a signal. A physical manifestation that something was very wrong.

If someone had told me, “Hey, extreme mineral cravings can be a sign of mania,” maybe I would have caught it sooner. Maybe I would have understood that it wasn’t just my mood that was broken. It was my body too.

In retrospect, maybe it was my body craving replacement electrolytes because of the constant and rapid physical demands on my body – running around, spinning my wheels, and hardly sleeping.

Or maybe it has something to do with the mechanisms of the brain. I’ve learned that different imbalances of salts (like lithium) affect brain activity. Could it be related to bipolar mania?

The physical symptoms of my manic episode were everywhere. I just wasn’t looking for them. Or I was, but I didn’t know what they meant.

My fingers started cracking on the edges. Deep cracks that hurt. I was too busy to notice or care. Too busy thinking. Too busy moving at a thousand miles an hour. My hands were covered in small cuts and bruises. Not from anything dramatic. Just from the fact that my brain and my body weren’t coordinated. I was clumsy. I’d hit my arms and hands on things because I was thinking so fast that I couldn’t manage my own movement. I was colliding with the world.

My fingernails were constantly dirty. Caked with dirt and grime. I wasn’t shaving. I wasn’t showering regularly. There was this total disregard for basic hygiene that I’d never experienced before. Not depression hygiene, where you can’t move. Mania hygiene, where cleanliness just didn’t compute as important. I had better things to do, or so I thought.

I was thirsty all the time. Like, unquenchably thirsty. I’d drink water constantly and it never helped. I’d drink so much that my stomach hurt, but I still had this dry, desperate feeling in my mouth and throat. It was one of those things that’s easy to ignore until you actually think about it. Until you realize that no amount of water is satisfying because your body is running on overdrive.

The worst part is that I was too interested in the amazing world around me to pay attention to any of this. I was too busy thinking. Too busy connecting. Too busy feeling alive in a way that made normal human needs seem trivial. Even eating felt unnessecary.

Here’s what I wish I’d understood: mania isn’t just a mental illness. It’s a full-body experience. Your brain isn’t the only thing operating at an unsustainable level. Everything is.

I think that’s why the physical symptoms are so important. They’re not secondary. They’re not just collateral damage. They’re early warning signs. They’re your body’s way of saying something is wrong before your brain is willing to admit it.

When I look back at photos from that time, I can see it in my appearance. The dirt under my nails. The lack of grooming. The scratches and bruises. My body was breaking down and I was too manic to notice or care.

Most people just focus on the psychiatric symptoms. The euphoria, the grandiosity, the irritability, the paranoia. Those are real. Those are important. But they’re not the whole picture. Your body keeps score. I think your body tries to warn you.

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