Life Lessons Series: Start Before You’re Ready - Steven Pressfield

Life Lesson #8

“Start before you’re ready.”-Steven Pressfield

Despite what we may think, time is a finite thing and we all have a limited amount to use in either the best or worst ways possible. In my lifetime I have made mistakes, learned many lessons and I have grown into a person I love and even admire. That said, I have wasted a lot of time along the way in the pursuit of perfection. What does that look like for me? Waiting for the perfect moment, for the perfect words to come to me, for the stars to align and my moment to arrive without taking the steps forward to make anything happen. I always seemed to be in a perpetual state of waiting for all the right elements to come together to create the perfect storm of readiness that will whisk me off my feet into a world where my dreams are reality. It was American author Steven Pressfield who coined the phrase “start before you’re ready.”   

Well, when I was six years old I dreamed of my name being as common as salt. I dreamt of winning a Grammy like Whitney Houston, I dreamt of winning an Oscar like Julie Andrews and a Pulitzer for Best Writer on Earth-what can I say I was a little girl with really big dreams but no idea how I would make them come true. So I waited and waited for the perfect moment of realization when the picture forward to my dreams would materialize in my mind and then at 24 years old my waiting for my perfect moment was put on pause when my mind started to fail me. I was diagnosed with Bipolar I disorder and my dreams felt even further away and completely impossible. But then something inside me changed. I rediscovered my fighting spirit and realized that my dreams would never come true if I didn’t start despite feeling completely unready. 

Step one was to start sharing my writing and the story of my journey through madness. I started opening up to others about my experiences with Bipolar disorder, I started a podcast in 2017 about mental illness, I published a chapter in an anthology about women being empowered to succeed despite the challenges life threw their way. Finally on September 30, 2024 I published my first blog on this website that has now reached over 10K unique views in six months. I was not ready for any of this. It wasn’t the perfect time or the perfect moment in my life. I wasn’t a year out of the hospital like I had planned, I wasn’t out of therapy, I didn’t have an Oscar or a Grammy or a Pulitzer but I started before I was ready and I started something pretty special. 

Thank you Mr. Pressfield for reminding me that sometimes to find direction when pursuing your dreams you must “start before you are ready.” And thank you to my readers for believing in a little girl’s dreams and giving her hope that one day they will all come true.

Bipolar I disorder is a mood disorder characterized by extreme highs (hypomanic, manic and psychotic episodes) and extreme lows (depressive episodes). When you have Bipolar disorder you are not always aware of how your illness affects the way you relate to the people in your life. Family, friendships, personal and work relationships all take on a different meaning under the lens of mental illness especially a mood disorder like Bipolar. Characterized by fluctuating moods Bipolar disorder can make it difficult to manage and ultimately maintain positive relationships especially during manic or depressive episodes. The unpredictability of the illness can be exhausting for the people involved in your life, like a never-ending rollercoaster with unpredictable emotional twists and turns that leave others feeling burnt out and pessimistic about the future of the relationship.

My Relationship Journey

I’ve written about romantic relationships (Manic Love) and toxic friendships but I have yet to address the close relationships that have been challenged and put to the test due to the ups and downs I experience during my manic phases. These connections both family and friends have been placed under pressure on countless occasions due to my Bipolar episodes made even more severe by substance use. My family and friends stood by my side as long as they were able but eventually had to let me go to find my way back to myself and to them. It wasn’t only my mental health that was at risk, it was also their mental health that was being affected by my unpredictable behavior. 

When I am in the midst of an episode there is always a risk that I will lose the people in my life whether temporary or permanent, this is the consequence of the chaos Bipolar I disorder brings. Whether it's a work, family or friend relationship in Mania I’m unrecognizable and extremely difficult to deal with leaving people feeling tired and hopeless in our interactions. I’ve been fired from jobs due to misunderstandings during episodes my employer didn’t even know I was experiencing. 

My friends have walked away from me because they were overwhelmed and needed to prioritize themselves. I’ve gotten into explosive arguments with family members while manic forcing them to retreat from my life. Then there are those relationships that have lasted through all my Bipolar trials, these people have never given up on me regardless of the condition I find myself in. So, how have I managed to keep the few in the face of losing so many? Open and honest communication, understanding and empathy and respecting boundaries.

Open and Honest Communication

Communication is one of the most important pillars in a healthy relationship dynamic. Being open and honest with family and friends about your mental health struggles is key to maintaining transparency on your journey to wellness. I have had challenges being honest about my mental illness and substance use with friends and family over the years. There is a lot of shame, guilt and stigma surrounding mental illness that made it difficult to express what I was experiencing especially once the symptoms of Bipolar took over an already fragile and fearful mind. 

I didn’t want to be judged, I didn’t want to be disliked but mostly I didn’t want the people I loved to walk away from me if I opened up about how broken I felt inside. In my Mania, although I seemed fearless, the fear of abandonment ran deep and I hid behind a facade made of lies and half-truths. I finally came to the realization that the person in my relationships that I most needed to be open and honest with about my struggle with mental illness was myself.

By pretending nothing was wrong and I was okay I did a disservice to my loved ones and myself. When chaos would finally erupt inside me I would be equally as surprised as everyone around me. I could never predict my episodes because there was a part of me that believed if I acted the right way, said all the right things, had a good and stable job I could hide from my friends and family the fact that I was neither good nor stable, I was struggling internally and teetering on the edge of self-destruction. When I finally started being honest with myself, when I let go of the fear, shame, guilt and self-loathing it was easy to start being honest and open with those around me. Self-acceptance and self-compassion led to a dialogue with my friends and family that fostered a relationship full of understanding, empathy, patience and overwhelming support. 

Understanding and Empathy

When I became a Peer Support Specialist I vowed to share my experiences around mental illness and the mental healthcare system in hopes that my story would foster understanding and empathy in others. Since I began my mental health  journey I have experienced the stigma that caused people struggling with mental illness to stay locked inside themselves because oftentimes they feel misunderstood especially by those closest to them. I empathize with this feeling as I was once there. 

When you have a shared history with someone either a close friend or a family member, they have a perception of who you are based on their lifelong experiences with you. When you introduce mental illness like Bipolar disorder which has the power to change your entire personality, their perceived ideas about you go out the window, essentially they cease to understand who you are or who you have become in your illness. 

It is up to you to help them reframe their perceptions and inspire empathy and understanding for a circumstance they see but still can’t imagine. So, I focus on educating the people closest to me, my friends and family so they have a better understanding of my illness, my behavior when experiencing symptoms and how they can support me through my turbulent episodes. However, even with new found wisdom, understanding and empathy these relationships will continue to be tested without  setting boundaries that protect both our mental health and strengthen our relationship during a manic phase.     

Respecting Boundaries

My family and friends have had to set some hard limits with me over the years. The truth is when I’m unwell, specifically in Mania I tend to violate my loved ones boundaries though unintentionally I cross their time boundaries, for example contacting them at all hours of the day and night, as well as their emotional boundaries, often calling in extreme distress or incoherent and uncontrollable tears that they are simply not equipped to deal with. 

I’ve learned over the years that crossing boundaries such as these is extremely difficult for my family and friends and causes strain on their mental health as well as their ability to provide me with continued support. So, when I experience wellness I use open communication with my loved ones and ask honest questions like,

“What are your limits of support when I’m unwell and what can I do to make sure you feel supported during an episode?” 

“Do you prefer I text you while I’m experiencing an episode with updates on my progress?”

“Do you want to be an active member of my support circle which includes daily phone calls and home or hospital visits?”

Although some of these questions come with difficult answers, they are all built around love, support and mutual respect. Sometimes the only way my family and friends can support me is by stepping back from what can be an extremely overwhelming, often stressful and usually volatile experience. In my journey however, I’ve been fortunate to have a close connection with someone who has stuck by my side regardless of how rough the waters get. 

My mental health mentor has been a part of my journey for almost 17 years,  she is my greatest supporter, acting as friend, family, advisor, advocate and substitute decision maker while I’m hospitalized. She is knowledgeable not only about my mental illness but also resources in my community. She is listed as my emergency contact for Wellness Checks and she manages my home and finances when I’m unwell. But even she and I have developed boundaries over the years that make our relationship mutually beneficial, strengthened our bond and fostered unconditional love and support. 

I also have friends and family members  that I know will answer my distress calls when I’m in need. On my call tree they are listed as my 2 minute, 5 minute and 30 minute team calling my back in those windows of time when I leave an S.O.S message or text. My college roommate (5 minute friend) has pulled her car full of three children and husband over when I send out the signal because she has been a part of this journey from the beginning and our shared history gives her an understanding of how much her continued support means to me. Again, because over the years we have developed good boundaries she knows that if I cross one with a phone call at an inconvenient time I really need her support. 

My little cousin (he’s in his early 40s) is my 2 minute responder. He has firsthand experience with the destruction I can cause in my home in manic-psychosis and has had to keep me on the line while calling 9-1-1 for a Wellness Check and subsequent hospitalization. Boundaries between us are very important but he too realizes if I’m crossing a time boundary for example, his first questions when he picks up are “Are you OK?Are you safe?” Because he has also been on this journey with me for a long time, he has empathy and understanding when I’m severely struggling.   

Final Thoughts

Managing and maintaining relationships when dealing with a serious mental illness like Bipolar disorder, is not easy. I’ve had to learn some hard lessons about how to conduct myself in my relationships with family and friends and also manage the pendulum of mood swings that characterize Bipolar I disorder. I’ve lost a lot of connections along this journey to wellness, some I called friends and others were members of my family. The saying “Some people are in your life for a reason and others are there for a season,” resonates with me as those that have lasted the test of Bipolar disorder giving my unconditional love and support even when I was at my worse are the individuals that God truly gifted to me knowing I couldn’t walk this road alone. 

For the individuals I only had a season with, you are loved, missed and appreciated for the lessons you taught me about myself and how to value the people that are still in my life. To the relationships that might still have life and love left in them again you are loved, missed and appreciated and I hope one day we will find our way back to each other and rebuild on a foundation based on honesty, mutual respect, empathy and understanding, boundaries and unconditional love. 

But shortly after I turned 33-years-old I lost my voice. And I’m not talking about losing your voice because you have a sore throat. For three days this past January 2016, I lost the ability to speak and no one could explain why. I got up one morning and I felt physically weak, disoriented and dizzy. I lived alone so I had no opportunity to say a word until I left for work. I remember taking an Uber in because I felt so unbalanced I could barely stand. When the driver said ‘good morning’ I attempted to reply, and the words came out slow and slurred.

I immediately called my mother and when I couldn’t reach her, I called my Grama Judie. I told her my symptoms and she said I should head to the hospital. For many reasons I dislike hospitals and refused to go, instead choosing the nearest walk-in clinic. I was barely in the door before I lost consciousness and collapsed. I was taken into one of the exam rooms and the nurse had called an ambulance. She was trying to keep me alert by asking questions, questions that I tried to answer but I couldn’t. I was confused and terrified because when I opened my mouth the answers I formulated in my head just wouldn’t come out.

The ambulance arrived and transferred me to St Michael’s Hospital in Toronto. By the time I arrived at the emergency room I had managed to give them basic information about myself as well as my phone to contact my mother. The doctors ran every test they could think of, they feared I may have had a stress induced stroke. The MRI, EKG and blood work came back normal. Because I disclosed my history of mental illness, the next step was a psychiatric evaluation. This was what I had been dreading.

It has been my experience that when a person suffers with mental illness, doctors tend to overlook physical symptoms and label the problem a psychological one then pass you off to the ER’s Psychiatric Crisis Team for assessment. I was terrified of being admitted to the psychiatric unit. I knew that the likelihood was this was a reaction to a new antidepressant I was taking but to admit that would be to risk getting admitted. Though it was a struggle I managed to make my wishes clear: There’s something physically wrong, I am not crazy, I do not feel like harming myself or others and I want to go home.

After asking me a series of questions that I was all too used to answering, the ER psychiatrist advised that she feared this may be psychosomatic but not something to be admitted over. My mother finally arrived, and the doctors cleared me to go home and have her monitor me for the next few days. The relief I felt was overwhelming.

During those three days of silence, I really started to question how I had gotten to this point. Maybe there was another reason, hidden deep inside myself that I was failing to examine. Since the new year started, I have been taking on more, pushing myself harder mentally, physically and emotionally. I was beginning to feel pressure at work, I was lacking in sleep, my appetite was non-existent, and I was running from the depression that historically took over my mind every Winter since I was 17-years-old.

I was doing too much, and I was wrestling with the darkest parts of myself. I was overwhelmed and I knew it had everything to do with my mental health challenges. I was tired of running from it, I was tired of keeping the secret of my mental disability from my friends, colleagues and anyone I had any significant connection with. It was like a gaping sore that refused to heal, that was a constant source of pain as if trying to tell me: Until you deal with me, I am not going anywhere.

I had been thinking about telling my story, telling the truth for a while and during this experience my mind was in a constant state of remembering. Remembering the dark reality of my past, retracing my steps to see where I could have changed things, worrying that once the carefully constructed mask that I had relied on for so long was crumbling in the face of this truth. Even though my voice was lost, my thoughts were finding their way to the surface. All the lies I had told to protect myself, all the things that I could only remember pieces of from all the times I lost my mind to the overwhelming sense of failure I felt every day since I was a child. I knew it was time to face all that I had done, all that I had been through. My body’s betrayal at this critical juncture of my life was telling me that if I were truly going to move forward, I had to speak my truth.

I was ready and I was not ready. I was certain and I was not certain. I was terrified and calm because I knew it was time for the words to come out. I knew if my voice returned, I had to use it to tell the story of a woman who was abused in so many ways; a woman who lost her mind so many times only to find it again; a woman who has done things she was ashamed of; a woman who survived when the odds were stacked against her.

I knew my story could help people like me see that it is possible to go through things, terrible, life-changing, dark and destructive things and still come out on the other side fighting and hopeful and determined to achieve the impossible. To come through everything while still having faith that the next step, the next journey, the next dream will be the right one, the better one, the one that will finally make you whole.

It is possible to believe that you can survive your pain, only suffering as long as it takes you to learn your lessons. Then you take that newfound knowledge and change your life into something authentic. I want to be a force for this kind of change in people’s lives, giving them hope that happiness lies beyond the darkest waters.

I have always known this was my purpose, but I hid my light for reasons that seemed far away and inconsequential in the face of losing my voice. It was a new kind of pain to think that I had wasted so many years hiding from the world, hiding from myself that now, when I was on the precipice of taking my place and serving my purpose, there was this new obstacle that I was not sure I could overcome.

If all the world’s a stage like Shakespeare once wrote, then those three voiceless days were my version of stage fright. I learned that as much as I was afraid of the truth, if I continued to hold it in, I was in danger of losing the opportunity all together. The labour of having to force out every word, syllable by syllable, at a snail’s pace as if I had never spoken before was eye-opening.

I thought to myself, “What now Onika? You have all these words locked inside your mind, you have hoarded all your experiences, all that knowledge and wisdom never really sharing it with anyone and now you have finally found some courage to speak your truth, and you have lost your voice…you have lost your way.” When my voice did return slowly over the following days, the relief I felt was palpable. It was like being given a second chance to start my purpose-filled, passion-filled journey.

It’s time to embrace something that has always been difficult for me—change. I need to be fearless and learn to embrace change like a warm hug instead of running from the danger of the unknown. I have to embrace the journey I am on and pray to God that He will be there to catch me if I fall again and to keep me grounded when I finally rise.

Final Thought

In 2016 fear had a strangle hold on me. I was living a lie believing that if I told the truth about my Bipolar diagnosis to my new employer, colleagues and friends I feared rejection, I feared isolation and I feared I would lose my job. I believed my disability was a deficit and a detriment to the new life I was trying to build in a new city. After years of manic episodes, depressive episodes and hospitalizations I convinced myself running from the truth of my circumstances was the only way. I thought reinventing myself based on a lie would keep me safe and would lead to my ultimate success. 

But the opposite occurred, all the lying and deception and running away from my truth took a mental, spiritual and ultimately physical toll on my body. It was my mama that taught me the lesson “Speak the truth and speak it always cost it what it may.” and in 2016 not telling the truth about a significant part of my life cost me my voice. I became lost in a lie and I remember bargaining with God that if I got my voice back I would use it to share the truth about my lived experience with Bipolar disorder, the good, the bad and all the ugly bits in between. That experience taught me how dangerous fear can really be and I am so grateful my temporary paralysis lifted and I’m presently living in the light of my truth. 

A Bipolar Woman’s Self-Reflection on Fear is a series of entries that will allow you a window into my past and insight on my present and the lessons I’ve learned over the years that have put fear in my rearview mirror. 

I used to feel sorry for myself, believing that my diagnosis was a curse. But the more I learned about myself and my condition, the more I realized that Bipolar has been one of the most significant shaping forces in my life—shaping not only how I view the world but how I view myself.

This is my journey of discovering how Bipolar disorder helped form my identity, not as a victim but as a fighter, a survivor, and someone who strives to make the most out of every high and low.

Embracing Bipolar Disorder as a Gift, Not a Curse

In the beginning, Bipolar disorder felt like a heavy burden I couldn’t escape. The mood swings, the unpredictability of manic highs followed by depressive lows—it was overwhelming. There were days when I felt defeated, unable to cope, and trapped by my own mind. It’s easy to fall into the trap of self-pity in those moments. I used to feel sorry for myself, convincing myself that life had dealt me a bad hand.

But one day, something changed. When I began to study Peer Support, I gained knowledge and understanding that everything that I had endured over the years could be used to help others like me who felt lost trying to navigate the complex world of mental health. I realized that my illness wasn’t a curse—it was a gift, something I could use to effect positive change in others struggling. No, it didn’t always feel like a gift. Some days, it still doesn’t. But what Bipolar disorder has given me is a unique perspective on life. It has taught me to fight, to become more resilient, and to recognize my inner strength.

A Fighter and Survivor: Owning My Resilience

Living with Bipolar disorder has made me resilient in ways I never thought possible. It’s one thing to face external challenges, but when the battle is inside your own head, it forces you to develop a different kind of toughness. You can’t run from it or escape it. You have to face it head-on, every day. And that’s exactly what I’ve done.

I no longer feel like a victim. I’m not someone who blames others or uses Bipolar disorder as a scapegoat for bad behavior. Accountability is one of the most important lessons I’ve learned through this journey. It’s easy to shift blame when life feels out of control, but taking responsibility for my choices has been empowering.

There’s a stereotype that people with Bipolar disorder can be unpredictable or make poor choices and then blame their illness for it. But I’ve never allowed myself to fall into that pattern. Yes, my condition affects my mood and my energy, but it doesn’t control my actions. I choose how I respond to those fluctuations. Accountability is key.

Bipolar Disorder: My Superpower of Self-Awareness

Self-awareness is perhaps the greatest gift that Bipolar disorder has given me. The mood swings, while challenging, force me to tune into my emotions on a level that many people never have to. I’m constantly checking in with myself, assessing how I feel and why. This level of introspection has made me more aware of not only my emotional state but also my triggers, my strengths, and my limitations.

In a world where so many people are on autopilot, never stopping to reflect on their inner world, I’ve been given the opportunity—perhaps even the necessity—of deep self-reflection. This awareness has made me more in tune with my needs, helping me recognize when I need to slow down, ask for help, or take a break. It’s also given me the insight to make healthier choices, and it has improved my relationships, allowing me to communicate more clearly with the people around me.

Knowing more about myself has boosted my confidence, both in managing my disorder and in navigating life in general. When you understand what makes you tick, you gain control over your own narrative. And for someone with a mood disorder, that’s a powerful thing.

Advocacy and Finding My Voice

One of the most significant ways Bipolar disorder has shaped my identity is in my role as an advocate—not just for myself, but for others in the mental health community. For years, I hid my condition, afraid of judgment or being seen as “less than.” But the more I learned to accept Bipolar as part of my identity, the more I realized how many people were struggling in silence, just like I had.

That’s when I knew I had to speak up. I started sharing my story, opening up about my experiences, and advocating for mental health awareness. I’m not afraid to talk about Bipolar disorder anymore. In 2019 I had the courage to share my experiences on a national platform when I became one of five people chosen to be The Face of Mental Illness for Bell Let’s Talk, a national campaign promoting mental health awareness. I take pride in being able to educate others, to break down the stigma that so often surrounds mental health conditions.

This advocacy isn’t just for others; it’s for myself too. By standing up for mental health awareness, I’ve become an advocate for my own needs. I’ve learned to set boundaries, to ask for support when I need it, and to be unapologetic about prioritizing my mental well-being.

Bipolar and the Power of Positivity

It might seem counterintuitive to associate positivity with Bipolar disorder, but I’ve found that practicing positivity has been a crucial part of my journey. When you’re dealing with mood swings and unpredictable emotions, it’s easy to get caught in a cycle of negativity. But I’ve made a conscious choice to focus on the positive aspects of my life—and even of my disorder.

Yes, Bipolar disorder brings challenges. But it’s also brought me closer to the people I care about, allowed me to tap into a wellspring of creativity, and given me a deep sense of empathy for others who are struggling. I’ve become more compassionate, more patient, and more appreciative of the good days. I focus on the positives, not because the negatives don’t exist, but because I choose not to let them define me.

Hope has been a constant companion on this journey. It’s what gets me through the tough days and reminds me that every low will eventually pass. My hope isn’t naive; it’s grounded in experience. I’ve lived through enough episodes to know that even the darkest times don’t last forever. That’s why I’m fearless when it comes to facing my condition. I know that whatever comes next, I can handle it.

Bipolar Disorder: Fuel for Creativity and Insight

One of the more unexpected gifts of Bipolar disorder has been its effect on my creativity. During my manic phases, I experience bursts of energy, creativity, and inspiration that feel almost unstoppable. I’ve channeled that energy into various creative outlets—writing, art, music. These moments of creative flow have given me a deep appreciation for my mind's capacity to think outside the box, to innovate, and to create beauty even from chaos.

Of course, the depressive phases can be debilitating, and they often sap my energy and creativity. But even in those moments, I’ve learned to tap into a different kind of insight—one that comes from reflection, from sitting with my emotions and understanding them on a deeper level. This balance between the highs and lows has taught me to appreciate both states of being, each bringing its own form of wisdom and growth.

Faith, Self-Love, and Acceptance

Over the years, Bipolar disorder has forced me to cultivate self-love and acceptance. In the beginning, I struggled with feelings of shame, wondering why I couldn’t just be “normal.” But the more I’ve embraced my condition, the more I’ve come to see that “normal” is subjective. There’s no one right way to live or to be, and my experience with Bipolar disorder is just one of many paths.

This acceptance has strengthened my faith—not just in a higher power, but in myself. I have faith in my ability to navigate life’s challenges, to rise above the lows, and to keep moving forward even when things feel difficult. This faith is rooted in self-love. I’ve learned to love myself not in spite of Bipolar disorder, but because of it. It’s made me who I am, and for that, I’m grateful.

Final Thoughts: Bipolar Disorder as a Catalyst for Growth

Living with Bipolar Disorder is not easy, and it’s not something I would wish on anyone. But for me, it has been a catalyst for personal growth and transformation. It has shaped my identity in profound ways, teaching me resilience, self-awareness, accountability, and compassion.

I no longer view Bipolar disorder as a curse. Instead, I see it as part of my journey—one that has made me stronger, more self-aware, and more connected to the world around me. It has given me the opportunity to become an advocate, to practice positivity, and to embrace my creativity.

Most importantly, Bipolar disorder has taught me that we are not defined by our struggles, but by how we choose to respond to them. And for that, I am grateful. If you're interested in further exploring the journey of managing Bipolar disorder, be sure to check out my blog, "How to Start Managing Bipolar Disorder: A Comprehensive Guide." It’s filled with valuable insights and tips to help you along the way.