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When the Light Fades: Let's Talk About Depression and Its Role in Bipolar Disorder - Part 2 of 5The Heavy Quiet, When the Light FadesDepression is not just sadness. It can feel like emotional dimming, identity loss, and disconnection from self, especially when experienced with Bipolar disorder. When I am experiencing “low mood,” I feel completely numb to the world around me. My low moods are sudden, and the physical side effects are apparent. My energy feels completely drained, like a battery that has suddenly used its last drop of power and become a solid mass with nothing left to offer. Though it still looks like a battery, it may even appear as if the battery still has power, but it does not. It is essentially empty. That is how I describe what depression does to my body and mind. It leaves me like a battery with no power. I appear to be myself, however upon closer examination, the first characteristic people say is missing is my “ever-present energy.” I can remember the first morning I felt like a drained battery. I was 16-years-old, and my grandmother came into my room one morning, as she did every morning, to wake me up for school. She called out to me once, twice, three times, and although I could hear her calling, I simply could not move. I could not even respond to her in any coherent way. After she walked out of my room to wake my little sister, I tried to move and couldn’t. I became fearful that something was seriously wrong, and it was. I did not have the energy to speak, and I felt extremely tired. Shortly after, my mind and body succumbed to exhaustion, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was disoriented and still tired. My room was pitch black, and outside was covered in darkness. The trees were cloaked in shadows, and the only gleam breaking through the night came from the streetlights. I stared at those lights, wondering how I could have slept that long and why I still felt drained of all energy. I stared out my window at the glow of the streetlight until even that light faded into darkness, into sleep, into oblivion. For some, depression comes swiftly, like a sudden shift. For others, it is a slower onset brought on by any number of factors. In my experience, depression can come on very quickly depending on the negative situation, such as death, job loss, post-hospitalization, medication changes, or even the time change during Daylight Saving Time. It feels like one day I am functioning at my baseline energy level, then I go to sleep and wake up the next day unable to get out of bed. Externally, I may appear calm, but I am unable to show the fear and anxiety that would normally have my body trembling, or cry the tears of frustration my mind wants to release. Instead, there is a complete absence of emotional expression on my face and an internal heaviness that nauseates my stomach. Depression does not always arrive loudly. Sometimes, it settles quietly and deeply. This blog focuses on my lived experience with depressive episodes within Bipolar disorder. I will attempt to help you understand what depressive states feel like, how Bipolar depression can feel distinct from general sadness, and the emotional weight, identity shift, and internal silence that can come with it. What Is Depression, Really?Unlike sadness, which is usually situational and passes, depression begins for me when sadness does not pass. When sadness becomes a persistent low mood and emotional disconnection, I know I am starting to feel depressed. When my grandmother passed away in 2004, I shifted from sadness into debilitating emotional pain that crippled me. I was unable to get out of bed. I started using substances to numb the pain, which quickly became part of my depressive journey. I was not simply lacking motivation for activities of daily living. I stopped caring. I did not care that I was in my fourth year of university, my toughest year, or that I had thesis papers overdue. I did not care about hygiene practices like brushing my teeth, doing my hair, or taking a shower. The only thought I was fixated on was that my grandmother was gone, and she was never coming back. I stayed in bed for days and weeks at a time, not eating, not really sleeping, but simply immobilized, staring at a fixed object, the floor, or the ceiling, thinking about her. Grief can be a powerful catalyst for depression. According to the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, also known as the DSM-5, there are several types of depressive disorders, including: Persistent Depressive Disorder Over the years, I have struggled with four of the above: Treatment-Resistant Depression, Situational Depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and Bipolar disorder with symptoms of depression. For each condition, depression presented itself differently. With Treatment-Resistant Depression, which I experienced early in my mental health journey, I had night terrors, sweats, trouble staying asleep, and dangerous thoughts related to my own life. My psychiatrist at the time tried several different antidepressants with similar results and recognized that the depressive symptoms I experienced as a result of Bipolar disorder could not be treated with standard depression medication alone. With Situational Depression caused by experiences like job loss or the end of a romantic relationship, I found that although I experienced depressive symptoms such as sleep disturbance and low energy, my moods would shift from day to day or week to week. Often, visits from friends, a good conversation with my mom, or support from another relative was enough to lift my spirits and give me hope that the depression would eventually come to its natural conclusion. The depression that comes with Seasonal Affective Disorder has always been the most challenging for me because of how long it lasts. When Daylight Saving Time ends on the first Sunday in November, I can feel depression creeping into my system two to three weeks before. I become extremely tired as it gets darker earlier. I lose motivation for activities of daily living, and like an animal in hibernation, I sleep for most of the day, only getting up to use the bathroom or get something to eat. My energy for tasks like writing or exercise becomes almost non-existent. This lethargy typically lasts throughout the winter until Daylight Saving Time begins on the second Sunday in March. There are pockets of energy during this time that allow me to perform simple tasks like cleaning my house, practicing good hygiene, going to church, or visiting my parents. However, these bursts of energy are few and far between. Bipolar Depression: A Different Kind of LowBipolar disorder includes both high moods and low moods, each characterized by a unique set of symptoms. With Bipolar depression, those who experience it can feel emotionally flattened or disconnected from the world around them, especially from the people who want to help them in their recovery journey. During these depressive episodes, it can be difficult to explain your internal emotional state. Often, the only words that come close are “empty,” “drained,” or “nothing.” Bipolar depression is far different from general sadness because it can feel like there is no clear beginning or end point. One minute you are living, breathing, and part of the world around you, and then suddenly the world goes black, blurred, and empty. The space your world used to fill becomes hollow. You are empty. You have no idea why it happened, how it happened, when it will go away, or even how you feel about being enveloped in nothingness. All you can do is wait until it passes and hope you make it through another depressive episode. The depressive symptoms I experience as a result of Bipolar disorder feel like what I have just described. These symptoms come in cycles, usually lasting two to three weeks before my mind shifts back toward mania or psychosis. Naturally, my baseline leans toward hypomania: high energy, high productivity. But when I am experiencing depression during a Bipolar episode, I become very still, and my mind cannot hold onto a thought. It feels like a brain drain. Where thoughts are supposed to live, there is only emptiness. My limbs feel heavy, my body feels hollow, and I am unable to find my voice or speech. This depression is what I consider my most dangerous state because I am unable to communicate clearly with those around me about how they can support me. This lack of connection can be the most difficult part of the episode. When you experience Bipolar depression, you are never sure when it will come to its conclusion or when you will reconnect with the world around you again. Bipolar depression is not just sadness. It can feel like an emotional shutdown. The Emotional Tug-of-War: Identity and Self-WorthThere is an internal emotional impact when you are experiencing a depressive state. A loss of identity and sense of self often come into play. You are more than sad when you are dealing with depression. You are in crisis and disconnected from everything and everyone around you. I would often hear loved ones observe and say things like, “She’s not herself,” or “She is not full of energy like normal.” Even with the disconnection, you can still hear and feel, even if you cannot reason your way out of the depression. Statements like those have caused me to feel shame, guilt, and internal criticism. I want to be the Onika everyone knows and loves, but I simply cannot. That is what many people who have never experienced long-term depression fail to understand. Depression, low energy, low mood, staying in bed all day, insomnia, lack of appetite, low self-worth, loss of hope, and loss of sense of self are not choices. They are symptoms of a mental health condition. No matter what combination of symptoms I experience, they exist and have the power to change my identity. When I discovered the concept of self-compassion years ago, I began practicing it during my depressive episodes. I realized that I am living with a severe mental illness characterized by both highs and lows. I cannot always dictate which one I experience or when, so I had to learn to show myself compassion and give myself grace. If depression dictates that I will sleep all day, instead of forcing myself to move against it, I move with it. I make my bed as welcoming as possible because I am dealing with depression, and today, sleeping may be all I can do. If I experience loss of appetite during an episode, the minute I feel real hunger, I eat something I truly love, like cheesecake for breakfast or a plate of pasta in the middle of the night. I no longer worry about being the Onika everyone knows and loves because I recognize that I am still her. I am simply going through a human experience. Depression does not just change your mood. It can change how you see yourself, and I choose to see myself as someone who does not let depression define me or overtake me. Instead, I move with depression until it is behind me, and I am able to move forward again in my journey to wellness. Healing in the Darkness: What Helped Me Navigate ItIt has always been difficult for me to communicate my needs to others while in a low state. Beyond ensuring that I am taking my medication or identifying the food I want to eat when my appetite returns, I have trouble articulating my wants and needs. After so many years of having a solid support system in my family and friends, they are often more aware of my needs than I am. If I do not answer the phone after a few days, Grama Judie or my cousin will come by and check on me. Grama will tell me stories about the people in her life, and even though I am not really listening, she tries to make the connection. My cousin will simply sit on my couch quietly, working away on a project while I sleep for hours at a time. The most he will say during a visit is, “You good? Do you need anything?” If I wave him off and growl, he just goes back to work. Sometimes he stays through the whole episode, and he always knows when I am coming out of it, when I start making my bed, signalling that the time to stay down is over. When I am in a depressive space, it is really hard to write. I try to jot something down daily, whether it is the first two lines of a poem or a note about how I am feeling at that moment. My journal is never too far away. At night, when my energy allows, I try to complete part or all of my nightly routine, which includes skincare, brushing my teeth, aromatherapy, and a grounding meditation. These practices usually happen when my mind is preparing to come out of the darkness, telling me it is time to start healing. This is when I know depression is about to leave my body. I have learned that it can disappear as quickly as it came, and I should always prepare for both its disappearance and its sudden reappearance. I have also learned to listen to my thoughts when they return. Whether they are telling me, “You need more sleep, Onika,” or “Go get something to eat right now,” I listen. I know there is a period during my depressive episodes when the thoughts do not come, or they disappear too quickly for me to hear what they are trying to tell me. So when they return, and I can hear myself clearly, I listen. Even in a low state, there are moments that slowly rebuild connection. The return of my ability to think clearly is one of them. Final Thought:Holding On When the Light Is LowThe return to myself starts with a glimmer of light. It is the light I see in my kitchen when I finally open my eyes and wake up from sleeping for a week. I turn my head toward the kitchen, and I do not immediately want to turn back to the darkness. Then I lay there, staring at the low light, and I can hear myself thinking again. So I ask myself the question that always begins my return to me: “Are you ready to get up and stay up?” When the answer is yes, I begin my morning routine of bed stretching. I call out to Alexa to play CeCe Winans. I sit at the side of my bed, touch my heart, and thank God for getting me through. I had to learn to trust that emotional states shift, high or low, over time. I had to trust that day one would come to an end, and day ten might be the day I am ready to get up. In my experience, depression is about endurance, not resolution. Endurance with patience, self-compassion, and grace. Since I was 16 years old, I have lived with some form of depression. I am 43 years old now, and I still experience severe symptoms. Depression is not going anywhere, so I had to place in my mind the ideas of sustain and withstand. By definition, endurance means the ability to sustain prolonged physical or mental effort, withstanding hardship, stress, or fatigue to continue a task. So, the only thing required of me was to endure, and I would survive depression? I tried it, and it changed the course of this ongoing journey. A big part of returning to myself was understanding who I became when symptomatic and who I am now that the depression has lifted. Holding on when the light is low means holding on to hope. Hope that I make it through the storm. Hope that there is sunshine after the rain. Hope that I never give up. Hope that I always reach for the light at the end of the tunnel. Hope that I endure. A Question to My Readers:What helps you stay connected to yourself when everything feels distant or quiet inside? |
Thursday, May 14, 2026
When the Light Fades: Let's Talk About Depression and Its Role in Bipolar Disorder - Part 2
Tuesday, May 12, 2026
When Worry Doesn’t Stop: Let's Talk about Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Its Overlap with Bipolar Disorder - Part 1
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| When Worry Doesn’t Stop: Let's Talk about Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Its Overlap with Bipolar Disorder - Part 1 of 5 |
Anxiety: The Worry That Lingers
I remember the exact moment anxiety entered my life. It was brought on by abject terror.
As a child, I had anxious moments when the anxiety-driven voices in my mind became so loud that I would have to shake my head a few times to quiet the noise. It felt normal, even manageable, until one spring afternoon outside my sixth-grade classroom when anxiety attacked me out of the blue.
To my recollection, here’s what happened.
The Day the River Threatened to Pull Me Under
It was the final few months of grade six, and everything seemed normal. We had just finished recess, and the playground was its usual discord of harshness, where bullies moved from group to group unleashing their cruel brand of humour on any kid who would listen, and especially on any kid they knew it would affect.
There was one boy in particular they reserved the worst of their venom for. That day, the boy, whom we can call Christopher, simply couldn’t take it. He let out a giant scream that echoed across the playground. Every kid stopped and turned to see where it was coming from.
It was coming from Christopher.
It’s still unclear how I got involved, but knowing me, I was always a champion of the underdog and went to his defence. I had a fixer personality even when I was young. Christopher did not seem to want me to fix things. I remember the angry look directed at me before he stomped off inside the school.
That afternoon, as I walked to my backpack cubby to get my notebook, I found a threatening letter instead. It read, “This will be you in five days,” with a disturbing drawing meant to frighten me.
That was the moment my mind began to race with thoughts of danger and death. My breathing became shallow, my vision blurred, and I collapsed on the hallway floor with the letter in my hand as my world fell off its axis and spun out of control. I remember my fingers going numb and taking on a distorted shape that can only be explained by the lack of oxygen moving through my body. My lungs felt as if they had stopped working, constricted in my chest, until eventually I could feel only the last shallow breaths I took before I fainted.
That is how my teachers and classmates found me. The ambulance and police were called once they realized what had put me in that condition. My vitals were checked, and I was given oxygen, although I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. My parents were called to take me home for the day to rest after my traumatic ordeal. It was promised to my family that the police would investigate and “get to the bottom of this.”
For the next two days, I stayed home from school. When I got home, my mother put me straight to bed, and that was when the anxiety and fear entered my sleep. I tried to rest but got very few hours, waking from nightmares of red walls and ropes tangling around me, squeezing the air out of me. My anxiety manifested as screams in the middle of the night. Screams that took my breath away. My stomach refused to hold down any meal, no matter how small. My head throbbed with agony, like a hammer beating against my brain, repeating the same rhythm over and over: “three more days until you die.”
My parents, being strict about school attendance, refused to let me stay home for the entire five days. So, on day four, I returned to school. I couldn’t concentrate. I sat at my desk in a state of hypervigilance. Sounds were too loud, lights were too bright, and my thoughts continued to spin out of control.
By day five, what I believed would be the final day of my life, I was a ball of anxious energy, no longer my cheerful, outgoing self. On that day, however, it was discovered by police and staff, after comparing handwriting samples from each student, that the culprit was Christopher. My parents were called in and told that he had behavioural problems at other schools and would be expelled as punishment for what he had done.
The punishment for me would be the beginning of a mental health condition I did not yet understand. I had no name for it, but I would experience it daily, living from anxiety attack to anxiety attack.
This blog is a reflection on my lived experience with anxiety. I will discuss living with both Bipolar disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, also known as GAD, the challenges I have faced while trying to balance co-occurring disorders, and how changing my mindset helped me create a space where anxiety could exist.
This is the worry that lingers.
Some worry does not end. Instead, it loops, deepens, and stays.
When Anxiety Persists: A Bipolar Woman’s Reflection
After that incident, I started calling anxiety “the voices.” Throughout my adolescence, I would worry about anything and everything. I created scenarios in my head of negative events that were not actually happening and might never happen, but to my fragile mind, each scenario held some truth.
From the day I found that letter in my backpack, I lived in fear that something just as terrible would happen to me again. The sad part was that even my 11-year-old self knew it would be a hard road between me and regaining my peace of mind.
What I know now, that I did not know then, was that I would experience a series of life-changing events until one day I found myself in a child psychologist’s office being diagnosed with depression and a mild anxiety disorder. Mild anxiety would later develop into Generalized Anxiety Disorder as I got older and continued to struggle with processing painful experiences in a healthy way.
There is a difference between everyday concern and persistent anxiety. Persistent anxiety does not simply affect your thoughts. It also affects your perception of the world, your self-perception, your self-esteem, and your self-worth. Anxiety can even shape your behaviour.
It is not just persistent. Sometimes the worry that comes with anxiety is all-consuming.
Anxiety during a Bipolar manic episode is something I can only describe as loud and chaotic. Because one of the symptoms of mania is disorganized thinking, anxiety in mania can take on a disorganized, even paranoid form. In my experience, when Bipolar disorder occurs alongside anxiety, it can feel as if the extreme worry itself triggers hypomania, the precursor to mania.
When your body is in a constant state of fight, flight, or freeze because anxious thoughts persist day after day, your mind starts to break down. If you live with another mental health condition like Bipolar disorder, that internal pressure can increase the risk of a serious mood episode.
What Generalized Anxiety Disorder Feels Like: A Lived Experience Perspective
I moved to Toronto, Ontario at 33 years old to start working in the event management industry. I was fresh out of school when I was hired by a boutique events company where the staff consisted of myself, my boss, and another woman.
At first, things went well. I was securing big accounts, much to the excitement of my boss. Then one day, there was a notable shift between myself and my co-worker. She seemed to begin a passive-aggressive campaign to undermine my work and shake my confidence. She told me that if I did not find a way to bring in more clients, my boss would be forced to fire me.
That was the moment my anxious mind took control of my rational brain.
When you have Generalized Anxiety Disorder, unless you are experiencing visible physical symptoms or an anxiety attack, people cannot see the internal war you are fighting with your own thoughts. The moment I perceived that I could be terminated, I believed I was already terminated. The worry became persistent, excessive, and all-consuming.
I couldn’t eat or sleep because I was constantly thinking about being fired. Questions raced through my head one after another:
“When am I going to get fired?”
“What is my boss going to say to me?”
“How much time do I have left?”
“Should I start looking for another job?”
“Should I quit before he has a chance to fire me?”
“Should I just work harder to get the big accounts?”
“If I get the big accounts, will he still fire me?”
“Fired, fired, fired. You are going to get fired.”
With every thought came another and another. The thoughts, or voices, invaded my mind at work, and my performance declined. I started taking two and three days off so I could try to catch up on the sleep I was lacking, but also so I could isolate myself, untangle the anxious thoughts in my mind, and come up with a plan to keep my job.
I could not see how illogical I was being. Based on one person’s thoughtless comment, I was spiralling out of control.
I began to see danger around every corner, as if the world was not meant for me, as if I was not enough. There was nowhere I felt safe or secure, not at home and not at work. I eventually did get fired from that job, but I cannot blame my co-worker. She planted the seed, and I watered it with anxiety until the thoughts overwhelmed me.
Anxiety can feel like your mind is always preparing for something that has not happened. When something does happen, like me getting fired, anxiety can become deliberate, telling you your thoughts were right and that you have every reason to constantly worry.
Bipolar Disorder and Anxiety: When They Overlap
Trigger Warning: The below section discusses suicidal thoughts in a non-graphic way.
When you have a co-occurring condition like Bipolar 1 disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder, the emotional complexity can present as constant mental confusion and chaos. When you are in crisis, it is hard to tell where your thoughts end and anxiety begins.
During my depressive cycles, anxiety and the intrusive thoughts that come with it have sometimes deepened my distress and contributed to dangerous thoughts about my own life. For me, those moments often begin through the lens of anxious thinking, negative self-perception, diminished self-worth, and lowered self-esteem.
When depression shifts into hypomania, mania, or psychosis, my anxiety moves into that same realm of dysregulation and can take on a voice of illogical fear, paranoia, and emotional instability.
Anxiety has always felt different depending on my internal state. During remission or baseline periods, I have a firmer grip on my thoughts, and I can recognize more clearly when anxiety is trying to overtake me. I use tools like breathing exercises, meditation, and positive self-talk to calm the waves of anxiety that pass through me, attempting to pull me under into a dark place where my life has no value beyond what my anxiety dictates.
During episodes, however, it has always been difficult to distinguish mood shifts from anxiety symptoms. It becomes a constant question: which came first, the shifts or the symptoms?
When I reflect on my past experiences with Bipolar 1 disorder and GAD, I come to the conclusion that although Bipolar 1 disorder is my primary condition, Generalized Anxiety Disorder often acts as a trigger and causes my moods to shift.
For example, although I experience anxiety throughout the day, at night the voices often become louder and more persistent, disrupting my sleep. When I have insomnia for days at a time, when my thoughts will not quiet and prescribed medication does not have the desired effect, lack of sleep can lead to elevated mood and eventually mania.
Anxiety does not always stand alone. It often moves through mood states differently.
Living With Both: Emotional Weight and Exhaustion
There is an emotional fatigue that happens when living with overlapping mental health conditions, especially when each has its own dialogue inside your head. You become constantly alert, fearing relapse and living with uncertainty.
My past experiences with both conditions often creep into my present-day anxieties, especially when my mood shifts from elevated to low, or from low to elevated. The emotional weight and exhaustion of living with both Bipolar disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder can be overwhelming at times.
Then I remind myself that my mood disorder and GAD are both part of the lived experience that has shaped who I am today, both good and bad. Managing more than one internal experience can make even calm moments complex, but the calm moments, though rare, do exist.
At present, I practice self-awareness. When possible, I do not allow the voices inside my head to lead me. Instead, I show myself compassionate grace and remember that with inner strength and time, the voices can move from a loud roar to a dull silence.
I still hear and feel my anxiety when it creeps in, but with the self-care tools I have acquired, the emotional weight and exhaustion of living with anxiety has become less and less. It is not about ignoring my inner dialogue. It is about making space for it inside my head, a space where I can choose to listen to the anxious roar or turn it down to a dull silence I have learned to live beside.
Final Thoughts
Finding a Name for the Worry, Reclaiming Peace
Many years ago, the writer inside me decided to take control of the narratives in my head, the voices in my mind that I called anxiety. I realized one day, as I listened to the worry, that it often came in the form of a storyline. There would be one worrisome thought, and then that thought would build upon itself, creating a full story of anxiety.
Calling my worry one of the storylines in my head helped me untangle whether it was fiction or non-fiction, real or imagined. Although this has never been the solution to my anxiety, it was definitely a turning point in how I experienced it.
This new awareness created a space of understanding rather than a resolution to my condition. It allowed me to reflect on my ongoing relationship with anxiety.
Understanding anxiety does not end it, but it can change how you carry it.
To my readers: Have you ever experienced worry that felt constant or hard to quiet, and what helped you begin to recognize it for what it was?
Thursday, December 19, 2024
A Bipolar Woman's Self Reflection On Fear - Part 3: The Edge of Insanity
Everything feels so bright and blinding and all the pretty colours distracting you from everything else that’s going on around you. The kaleidoscope stops you from seeing what’s actually happening to you, because of you. You are trapped inside yourself and the voice of reason that’s supposed to warn you that things are not as they seem is drowned out by all the pretty colours. But if you just reach out in front of you, you will realize what you are seeing isn’t real, what you are feeling isn’t real, what you are experiencing isn’t real, you are trapped by your own thoughts.
Nobody ever tells you that when you lose your mind you are fearless, weightless, floating with no idea where you are going to land and because you feel no fear you, feel no worry and when you fall, crashing down from that high nobody ever tells you what happens when you land, no one tells you about the wreckage below when you finally stop floating aimlessly and weightlessly in a world only you can see. When your feet touch the ground and clarity hits you, your fear returns and the harsh reality of all that has transpired must be faced.
Nobody ever tells you the hardest part about losing your mind isn’t the losing, it’s the comeback afterwards. Many people are not fortunate enough to attain a second chance. Their minds are too far gone to comprehend a world without the lens of a kaleidoscope. I am fortunate however to have lived in a world of second chance, more chances than I care to remember that I squandered. I have lost my mind many times over the years, each episode more damaging than the last but I have always managed to come back from the edge of insanity though I am still not sure why or how I’m still standing.
Final Thought
Bipolar 1 disorder can be a terrifying, dangerous and destructive illness. It’s not in experiencing Mania that I have experienced fear, rather as I said in my entry from earlier on in my journey it's the kaleidoscopic chaos that occurs when you are in a delusional state. In my wellness I have learned that I like to maintain a certain level of control over every aspect of my life. I have created structure, routine and habits to mitigate manic behaviours. The problem is no matter what systems I put in place, manic chaos lurks in the wings waiting to destroy all the hard work I have done to maintain my sanity. Therein lies the fear of Mania. When I’m experiencing an episode I am completely unaware of the destruction I’m causing to myself, my finances, my home, my career, my family and my friendships. What I have always labelled the comeback after the comedown is a period in my life where I have to face the damage I’ve done that often I don’t remember. I can say I’m sorry, I can express regret but in reality I don’t remember what I’m sorry for and what I regret. What I can say is that I continue to do what needs to be done to manage my mental health, I choose not to let fear of Mania dictate my future, I have faith and hope and an unwavering belief in myself and those that love and understand my illness that when another episode occurs we will be equipped to handle it together, no collateral damage necessary.
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.
Coming Soon
Monday, November 4, 2024
Navigating Fear: Women’s Experiences with Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder
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| Navigating Fear: Women's Experiences with Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder |
Fear is a natural part of the human experience. It is woven into our lives, often emerging as a protective mechanism in response to perceived threats. This response—often described as fight, flight, or freeze—can be particularly complex for women living with mental health challenges like Bipolar disorder. In my journey, I’ve learned to embrace the mantra, “Feel the fear and do it anyway.”
For many women, fear and anxiety are the most common by-products of trauma. The pressures we face in society—to excel in our careers, maintain flawless relationships, and uphold family dynamics—create a breeding ground for fear of failure and fear of judgment. When compounded with Bipolar disorder, these feelings become amplified. We often find ourselves grappling with the idea that we are somehow "less than" because our minds operate differently, leading to an intense stigma rooted in fear.
Understanding Fear in the Context of Bipolar Disorder
Unaddressed trauma creates a permanent space for fear in our minds, dictating our actions, behaviors, and decision-making processes. When I first began to understand my Bipolar disorder, my biggest fear was rejection. Would people accept me if they knew I had a serious mental illness? Would my family still love me after the chaos of a manic episode? Would my friends still want me around when things got heavy? The constant questions loomed large in my mind, fueled by a society that often portrays those of us with mental health conditions as dangerous, volatile, or unpredictable.
In the beginning, my fear felt suffocating. I worried about losing my job due to burnout and exhaustion. I feared hospitalization and the potential side effects of medication, especially the dread of tardive dyskinesia. Each thought spiraled into an overwhelming anxiety that often left me paralyzed, struggling to engage with the world around me.
Breaking Down the Stigma and Finding Self-Acceptance
To combat these fears, I quickly learned the importance of self-love and self-acceptance. Surrounding myself with supportive, patient, and understanding individuals became crucial. I needed to find my tribe—people who could appreciate me for who I am, even during the challenging moments of my journey. As I began to embrace this support system, I found a community that reinforced my strength rather than my fears.
One of the most liberating realizations I had was that my fears, while valid, did not define me. I started practicing mindfulness and meditation to ground myself during overwhelming moments. These practices helped me clear my mind and refocus my thoughts. I learned to breathe through the anxiety and remind myself, “This too shall pass.” This sentiment became a comforting mantra, allowing me to navigate the peaks and valleys of my mental health journey.
Spirituality and Affirmations as Anchors
In my quest for stability, I turned to spirituality, which played a vital role in helping me manage my fear. One of my favorite quotes, “The only way out is through,” attributed to Robert Frost, reminds me that there is no going back with Bipolar disorder—only forward, regardless of the fears that may arise. I also posted daily affirmations on my bedroom wall: “For God did not give me a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind.” This affirmation serves as a reminder that I am capable and deserving of a fulfilling life.
While I try to manage my anxiety naturally, there are times when the weight of my fears becomes too much to bear. When my coping mechanisms fail, I turn to my PRN medication, using it only as needed. I’ve learned to see medication as a tool, not a crutch—a means to help me reclaim control over my life when fear threatens to overwhelm me.
The Power of Talk Therapy
I am a firm believer in talk therapy. Speaking with a counselor or therapist can provide a sounding board to help dispel fears and anxieties. Voicing my concerns out loud often diminishes their power, allowing me to confront the fears that once felt insurmountable. In these sessions, I learned to explore the roots of my anxiety, gaining insights that have been instrumental in my journey toward healing.
As a public speaker, I also face my fears head-on by sharing my story. Speaking my truth can be both terrifying and empowering. Each time I take the stage, I confront the fear of judgment and rejection, reminding myself that my voice matters. Through advocacy, I strive to educate others about mental health, helping to dismantle the stigma that often isolates us.
Facing Fears in Advocacy and Daily Life
Advocating for myself and my mental health is another way I face my fears. Whether I’m discussing medication management with my psychiatrist or navigating a hospital setting, I refuse to let fear dictate my journey. I remind myself that my ultimate goal is a fulfilling life and a successful future. I deserve to be heard, seen, and treated with dignity, regardless of my mental health status.
However, fear can still be pervasive. I often grapple with the fear of not returning to baseline after an episode. The anxiety of wondering whether I’ll ever have children—naturally or through adoption—sometimes weighs heavily on my heart. I fear that my genetics might be passed on, leaving a legacy of mental illness for future generations. The fear of never finding a healthy, supportive romantic relationship lingers, as does the anxiety of ending up isolated and alone.
Transforming Fear into Empowerment
Despite these fears, I am committed to transforming them into empowerment. Each fear I face teaches me something valuable about myself and the world. I’ve learned that while fear can be paralyzing, it can also be a powerful motivator for change. By confronting my anxieties, I am gradually reclaiming my narrative and embracing my identity as a woman living with Bipolar disorder.
It’s essential to recognize that fear is a shared experience. Many women, especially those navigating mental health challenges, carry similar burdens. By sharing our stories and supporting one another, we can dismantle the stigma that surrounds mental illness and empower ourselves to live authentically.
For a deeper understanding of how to manage Bipolar disorder and navigate the accompanying fears, check out my comprehensive guide, How to Start Managing Bipolar Disorder: A Comprehensive Guide.
Final Thoughts
Embrace the Journey
Navigating fear as a woman living with Anxiety and Bipolar disorder is a complex journey. It requires self-love, acceptance, and a commitment to facing our fears head-on. By cultivating supportive relationships, practicing mindfulness, and advocating for ourselves, we can create a fulfilling life despite the challenges we face.
Remember, fear does not have to dictate our actions. As we embrace the mantra “Feel the fear and do it anyway,” we open ourselves up to new possibilities, resilience, and hope. Our stories matter, and by sharing them, we empower not only ourselves but also those around us who may be navigating similar paths.
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