Onika L. Dainty

When Feeling Great Isn’t Always Good

I used to love the early stages of hypomania—the creativity, the confidence, the endless energy. It felt like I had finally stepped into the best version of myself. Hypomania can be intoxicating, even euphoric, but it never lasts. It always slips into something darker, sometimes ending in hospitalization.

For those of us living with bipolar disorder, hypomania feels like a gift but is often a warning sign. While others may feel energized because of real-life events—a new job, a big achievement—hypomania can appear without reason. That unpredictability makes it difficult to recognize until it’s already reshaping your world.

This blog explores what hypomania really is, how to recognize its signs, and why understanding it is essential for mental health stability and self-compassion.

A Closer Look: What Is Hypomania?

Hypomania is a milder form of mania. It involves an elevated, expansive, or irritable mood lasting at least four days, often with increased activity or energy. Unlike full mania, hypomania doesn’t cause severe impairment, psychosis, or always require hospitalization.

Common Symptoms

• Elevated mood or irritability
  

• Reduced need for sleep
  

• Racing thoughts and pressured speech
  

• Increased energy and goal-driven activity
  

• Impulsivity and poor judgment
  

• Inflated self-esteem or grandiose thinking
  

Hypomania in Bipolar I vs. Bipolar II

• Bipolar I: Hypomania may precede more severe manic episodes, often with psychosis and significant impairment.
  

• Bipolar II: Hypomania involves similar symptoms but without psychosis or hospitalization. It can still disrupt judgment, relationships, and wellness.
  

Though less severe than mania, hypomania often blurs the line between “productive energy” and dangerous instability.

The Allure and the Risks of Hypomanic States

Hypomania often begins with heightened creativity, motivation, and excitement. You may wake with energy after little sleep, throw yourself into projects, or feel “superhuman.” But the shadow side quickly follows: risky choices, impulsive spending, reckless relationships, or pushing your body and mind beyond safe limits.

The crash afterward can be devastating—filled with shame, guilt, and exhaustion. I’ve learned through lived experience that these behaviours aren’t personal flaws but symptoms of a complex illness. Self-compassion is essential. I am not my illness, and neither are you.

Learning to Recognize Hypomania in Real Time

Recognizing hypomania early is difficult—especially when it feels good. But awareness is key to prevention.

Strategies That Helped Me:

• Identify Triggers: Lack of sleep is a major one for me, especially during travel. Good sleep hygiene helps protect against mood shifts.
  

• Listen to Feedback: Trusted friends or mentors can often spot changes—like pressured speech or irritability—before I do. Taking their observations seriously is an act of self-care.
  

• Self-Monitoring Tools: Journaling and mood-tracking apps create a record of shifts over time. Radical honesty with yourself is essential here.
  

When I feel the euphoric pull of hypomania, I ask myself: Where will this lead? What happens after the high?
For me, the answer has often been manic psychosis, hospitalization, and months of recovery. That truth keeps me grounded.

Managing Hypomania Without Shame

Managing hypomania means staying consistent with whatever system supports your mental health:

• Medication adherence (if part of your plan)
  

• Crisis prevention planning for when episodes escalate
  

• Self-compassion over self-criticism, reframing hypomania as a signal rather than a failure
  

The goal isn’t to suppress joy, but to recognize when joy turns into dysregulation and to respond with care.

Final Thoughts: Knowing Your High Is Knowing Your Illness

Hypomania is both a gift and a warning. It signals that my brain is edging toward instability and that it’s time to return to the tools that help me heal—sleep, medication, therapy, and self-awareness.

I’ve had episodes last days, weeks, even months. I never know when they’ll arrive, but I always know when they’re here. Over time, I’ve learned that chasing the high isn’t worth sacrificing my long-term wellness.

My goal is not to avoid joy or excitement but to distinguish between authentic happiness and emotional instability. That wisdom only comes with self-awareness, compassion, and practice.

To my readers: Have you ever mistaken a mental health symptom for personal growth? What helps you tell the difference between rising and unraveling?

Last year I took my first solo trip to Guyana in South America post-diagnosis and after twelve months of recovery. Historically, air travel has not been kind to my mental health. I often believed I was well before departure, only to spiral into hypomania that tipped into mania upon arrival, leading to hospitalization for manic-psychosis once I returned home.

It wasn’t until that trip I realized my Bipolar disorder had a predictable travel cycle—one that could be managed with preparation. After speaking with my psychiatrist, I was advised to create a Mental Health Travel Crisis Plan. I had packed every physical item twice for reassurance but hadn’t considered what my mind truly needed.

A week before departure, I began researching and building my plan. Travel can be exhilarating, but it is also emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting. For those living with Bipolar disorder, it can be unpredictable—even dangerous—triggering Mania or depression. I came to understand that knowledge and preparation are essential travel companions.

In this blog, I’ll share how to recognize travel triggers, outline my lived experience with a travel cycle, and guide you in creating a practical, empowering mental health crisis plan.

Why Travel Can Be a Trigger—Even When It’s Excitement You’re Feeling

Travel challenges anyone’s mental health because of the disruption to daily routine, structure, and sleep patterns. For those with Bipolar disorder, the stakes are higher: the excitement of new experiences can destabilize moods and amplify symptoms. Careful planning helps minimize risks while still embracing the joy of exploration.

Common Travel Triggers for Bipolar Disorder

• Sleep Disruption
  Travel anxiety, jet lag, and changing time zones can disrupt circadian rhythms, often worsening bipolar symptoms. Lack of restful sleep is one of the most common triggers of Mania or depression. A travel sleep schedule, naps, and rest rituals can help re-establish balance.
  
  

• Environmental Change
  Leaving the comfort of home means leaving behind familiar routines that support stability. New environments—whether exciting or overwhelming—can destabilize mood. Building in grounding practices like mindfulness, breathing exercises, or journaling helps ease adjustment.
  
  

• Overstimulation
  Bright city lights, bustling airports, or even serene beaches can overwhelm the senses. Overstimulation often leads to loneliness, irritability, or racing thoughts. Pausing to reset—through journaling, walking, or retreating to quiet spaces—can help restore equilibrium.
  
  

Travel often pressures us to “just enjoy” the experience. But it’s vital to honour your mental health needs first. There will always be future opportunities for travel.

Building Your Travel Crisis Plan and Checklist for Bipolar Disorder

A Mental Health Travel Crisis Plan ensures peace of mind and provides clear steps if symptoms escalate. Paired with a Travel Checklist for Bipolar Disorder, it helps you anticipate challenges before they become crises.

What to Include in Your Mental Health Travel Crisis Plan

• Emergency Contact List: Psychiatrist, therapist, close family or friends, and substitute decision-maker.
  
  

• Preferred Safe Spaces: Local hospitals, clinics, or wellness centres at your destination.
  
  

• Medication List: Updated prescriptions, allergies, extra doses, and storage methods. (Consider blister packs for convenience and reassurance.)
  
  

• Coping Tools: Grounding exercises, playlists, affirmations, journaling prompts, or fitness facilities at your accommodation.
  
  

Travel Checklist for Bipolar Disorder

Track symptoms to stay self-aware and intervene early:

• Depressive symptoms: low mood, excessive sleep, anxiety.
  
  

• Hypomanic symptoms: insomnia, impulsivity, racing thoughts.
  
  

• Mania/psychosis symptoms: hallucinations, aggression, delusions.
  
  

This checklist is not meant to alarm, but to help you recognize your bipolar cycle in new environments and respond proactively.

How to Talk Mental Health and Travel: Preparing Others Without Over-explaining

Traveling with Bipolar disorder often means educating companions or hosts. On my trip to Guyana, I explained to relatives the mood shifts, highs, and lows I’d experience. Many dismissed symptoms as “jet lag,” but I knew they were part of my cycle.

Being transparent about your mental health needs—like requesting quiet accommodations or early check-in—empowers you and fosters understanding. Stigma still surrounds mental illness, but avoiding conversations to make others comfortable can leave you unsupported.

By explaining your needs with honesty, you shift the narrative: people with mental illness are capable of managing both their health and their travel itinerary.

Final Thoughts: Travel Doesn’t Have to Be Perfect to Be Worthwhile

Travel with bipolar disorder has taught me:

• Restful sleep is essential to mental and emotional stability.
  
  

• Mania often disguises itself as excitement and energy—until it crashes.
  
  

• A crisis plan allows flexibility, grace, and recovery when symptoms emerge.
  
  

Some trips require immediate rest; others allow exploration before fatigue sets in. Either way, I’ve learned to see healing as part of the journey, not a setback.

Travel doesn’t need to be perfect to be worthwhile. Crisis planning isn’t expecting the worst—it’s loving yourself enough to be ready.

The first night I spent in a shelter came after a 72-hour hold in a psychiatric unit. I was still mid-mania—hearing voices, paranoid, and overstimulated. The flickering fluorescent lights, the shuffle of strangers outside my door, and the clanging pipes in the walls felt threatening. At 11:00 p.m., the lights went out. But sleep didn’t come easily. I curled into a ball on the top bunk, silent tears running down my face. I realized: I no longer had a home. This shelter bed was it.

That was episode eight out of thirteen manic-psychotic episodes I’ve experienced so far. Mania is an emotionally explosive ordeal that can last weeks or months, leaving behind confusion, guilt, and exhaustion for both the person and their loved ones. Recovery typically takes 6–8 weeks—and requires peace and stability. Neither of those is easy to find in the chaos of a homeless shelter.

This blog explores what it means to reclaim mental clarity, dignity, and self-worth while navigating bipolar disorder recovery in short-term transitional housing. It’s my lived experience—and it may reflect the reality of many others still trying to find their way back from the in-between.

Navigating the Noise: Recovering from Mania in a Homeless Shelter

The one thing I remember most about shelter life was the noise—constant and unrelenting. Even at night, the old building echoed with sounds: pipes banging, doors slamming, conversations at all hours. Privacy was nonexistent. Healing felt impossible.

Every morning at 5:00 a.m., I would quietly climb down from my bunk, my body still aching from restraints and trauma. I’d stretch on a small patch of floor—my first attempt at creating routine. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Recovering from mania in a homeless shelter was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I was surrounded by women hardened by survival—many also dealing with mental illness, addiction, and housing insecurity. Trust was rare, softness even rarer. These were women who had spent years on the streets and only came to shelters when the cold became unbearable.

I’m someone who wants to help others. But in that moment, I had to focus on protecting myself—emotionally, physically, mentally. There’s a certain shame and hopelessness that comes with being mentally ill and unhoused. Still, I had people in my corner—my tribe—cheering me on from a distance. That helped me survive the noise.

Small Rituals, Big Impact: Coping Strategies for Bipolar Disorder in Transitional Housing

After a few weeks, the fog began to lift. My mornings started with deep breathing, stretching, and journaling at the kitchen table before the noise of the day took over. These grounding rituals helped me feel safe in a place that often wasn’t.

Shelter life had its own rhythm. I’d make coffee while a staff member cooked breakfast. Lunch followed at noon. After dinner, each resident was assigned a cleaning task—kitchen, bathroom, or living room duties.

I began to make small choices to support my healing: eating better, wearing clothes that made me feel like myself, getting my hair and nails done with help from Grama Judie, and going to church on Sundays to remember that God still had a plan for me.

During the day, I worked from the business office searching for housing, making calls to mental health programs, and putting myself on waitlists for case management. With two weeks left at the shelter, I secured both a transitional housing unit and a dedicated mental health worker.

Coping with bipolar disorder in transitional housing required structure, routine, and flexibility. It meant showing up daily, choosing peace over chaos, and creating new habits in a temporary space. It also meant believing that things could, and would, get better.

Support Looks Different Here: Mental Health in Shelter Communities

In shelters, support looks different—and sharing too much can put you at risk. Vulnerability is necessary for healing, but it can also open doors to exploitation. Material envy, emotional manipulation, or trauma bonding are real dangers in this environment.

Setting boundaries is key. Be mindful of what you share and with whom. Choose connections rooted in mutual respect and emotional safety. These relationships may not be lifelong, but they can serve as powerful reminders that you're not alone in your fight for recovery.

Not every person in a shelter is safe to trust. But some will surprise you with their kindness, their grit, and their capacity to understand. Build wisely.

Final Thought: Recovery Isn’t Linear—Especially in a Shelter

Recovery doesn’t follow a straight path. It’s messy, unpredictable, and often nothing like you imagined. Mine was public, painful, humbling—and ultimately, transformative.

My time in the shelter system wasn’t what I wanted. But it gave me something I needed: a new perspective, self-awareness, and undeniable proof that I could survive instability and build stability anyway.

To the women I met there—the ones who challenged me, supported me, and reminded me of who I am—thank you. You’re a part of my story now.

In this piece, I share hard-earned lessons from both managing and mismanaging my finances, and offer strategies that have helped me stay afloat—even during the worst episodes. Success, for me, means accountability, self-reflection, and building a money relationship rooted in honesty and awareness of my patterns.

Surviving on Long-Term Disability

Despite my education and work history in communications, event planning, and healthcare, my illness has led to recurring hospitalizations and job loss. Over the past 15 years, I’ve relied on long-term disability to survive. The paperwork and emotional labour of proving my illness to access support is overwhelming, and this latest application process has left me feeling scrutinized and vulnerable.

I’m grateful for the safety net—but I’m also scared. Scared of becoming stuck. I still want to build something meaningful and live a life my younger self would be proud of. Living with an invisible disability means constantly reckoning with what I can do, and letting go of what I wish I could.

Reclaiming Purpose Outside the 9 to 5

Filing for financial security forced me to confront some truths: I can’t function in a traditional 9–5. I do well at first, but stress leads to anxiety, then insomnia, hypomania, and ultimately, hospitalization. It’s a cycle I’ve repeated for over a decade.

But I also know this—I don’t want to live dependent on someone else’s signature on a monthly cheque. I want freedom. I want to earn in ways that honour my limits and ignite my passion. Lately, I’ve found hope in honorarium-based work: peer support, advocacy, storytelling. It’s not about big money—it’s about meaning, and reclaiming my path on my terms.

Real Financial Strategies That Work

I’ve had to rethink everything about money. I used to say, “You have to spend money so you don’t spend money,” which justified all sorts of reckless habits. But when I realized no one was coming to rescue me, I knew I had to change. Here are strategies that have helped:

• Budget with Mood in Mind: Plan for highs and lows. A budget rooted in your real habits—not just your best ones—can help manage hyper-spending and avoid rock bottom.
  
  

• Automate Bill Payments: Set up auto-pay for essentials like rent, insurance, and subscriptions. It’s a lifeline during episodes.
  
  

• Two Budgets Are Better Than One: Create a high-functioning and low-functioning budget. Pre-pay essentials like meds and food when you’re well.
  
  

Rebuilding Identity Through Money Management

Financial independence isn’t just about numbers—it’s about rebuilding who you are. I used to rely on my parents when I didn’t have to. But being unhoused, living in a shelter, forced me to grow. I stopped fearing risk and started taking control.

Now, I earn by sharing my story. I’m not chasing titles. I’m building a life I can actually live. I don’t define success by how much I earn—but by how my experiences help others.

Final Thoughts

Managing money with Bipolar Disorder is a journey. Whether you’re on disability, returning to work, or saving $20 a week for the first time in years—you’re still moving forward. Here are some mantras I say to myself. Maybe they’ll help you too:

• “You’re not lazy—you’re strong.”
  
  

• “It’s okay to receive support and still want more.”
  
  

• “Your financial past doesn’t define your future.”
  
  

Money isn’t your purpose—but it can support your purpose. Build routines. Make mindful choices. Forgive your slip-ups. Learn your patterns. And most importantly, ask yourself:

What small step can I take today to feel more empowered about money?