Onika L. Dainty

Women like me, navigating both the chaos of Mania and the scars of gender-based violence (GBV), live at an intersection where trauma and mental illness collide. This space is isolating, painful, and often misunderstood. But it is also a space where healing, resilience, and transformation are possible. By sharing my journey, I hope to offer insight, solidarity, and a reminder that even in the most complex struggles, recovery is within reach.

Understanding Bipolar Disorder and Mania Through Lived Experience

What It Means to Live With Bipolar Disorder

Bipolar disorder isn’t just about feeling “up” and “down”—it’s an all-consuming condition that distorts how you think, feel, and behave. In manic episodes, my mind would race faster than I could process, leading to reckless decisions and putting me in situations I’d never choose if I were stable. The highs felt intoxicating, but they came with devastating consequences.

Mania and Vulnerability

During one manic episode, I found myself in an unfamiliar, unsafe environment where I was assaulted again. In the haze of Mania, I couldn’t process what had happened. Even now, in moments of clarity, that trauma feels locked away, detached from my emotions. It’s not that it doesn’t hurt—it’s that it’s stored in a part of me that feels unreachable. This is the reality of experiencing trauma during Mania: it fragments, leaving you to carry the weight of something you can’t fully unpack.

The Impact of Gender-Based Violence (GBV) on Bipolar Women

Trauma as a Catalyst

Bipolar disorder doesn’t come out of nowhere. In my case, the chemical imbalance was always there, but the unaddressed trauma from my childhood and adolescence acted as a catalyst. The anxiety, depression, and emotional dysregulation stemming from gender-based violence (GBV) lit the fuse that triggered my Bipolar disorder.

For women with Bipolar disorder, trauma doesn’t just coexist with the condition—it amplifies it. During depressive episodes, the shame and fear of past violence can feel suffocating. During Mania, boundaries blur, leaving you vulnerable to further harm. It’s a cycle that feels impossible to escape without help.

The Numbers Tell a Story

Women with mental health conditions like Bipolar disorder are at an alarmingly higher risk of experiencing gender-based violence (GBV)—seven times more likely, to be exact. These numbers reflect the grim reality that mental illness makes us targets, and trauma leaves us grappling with symptoms that demand attention but are too often ignored.

Co-Occurring Disorders: The Double Burden

The Compounding Effects of Trauma and Bipolar Disorder

For years, I tried to numb the pain through substances. Cannabis became my crutch—a way to quiet the memories, fears, and guilt. But instead of healing, I developed a dependency that worsened my Bipolar symptoms. Substance use and unaddressed trauma often go hand in hand, creating a cycle of self-destruction that feels inescapable.

The Body Remembers

Even when my mind tried to forget, my body held onto the trauma. I’d experience panic attacks, flashbacks, and a deep sense of unease in intimate situations. Trauma isn’t just a mental health issue; it’s a full-body experience that requires holistic healing.

Finding Support and Reclaiming Power

Leaning on Others

I used to think I had to face my trauma alone. But over time, I learned the value of building a support network, even if they didn’t fully understand my experiences. Opening up to friends, family, and mental health professionals became a lifeline.

Professional Resources That Changed My Life

Therapy was a turning point. Programs like the Ontario Shores Trauma-Treatment and Recovery Program and the Women’s College Hospital Trauma Therapy Program gave me the tools to confront my trauma head-on. Cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT) and trauma-informed care helped me unpack my past and build healthier coping mechanisms.

Coping Strategies for Navigating Mania and Trauma

Healing Is Messy, But Worth It

Recovery isn’t linear, and it isn’t perfect. There were days I felt like giving up, but I kept going. These strategies have helped me:

• Journaling: Writing allowed me to process my thoughts and emotions, especially during manic episodes.

• Mindfulness Practices: Grounding exercises helped me stay present, even when flashbacks threatened to overwhelm me.

• Forgiveness: I had to forgive myself—not for what happened, but for the ways I coped, the mistakes I made, and the shame I carried. Forgiveness doesn’t excuse the trauma, but it lightens the burden.

Advocacy and Awareness: Changing the Narrative

Speaking Out for Change

For too long, women like me have been silenced by stigma and shame. But our stories matter. By advocating for mental health awareness and pushing for better resources, we can create a world where survivors feel seen and supported.

Building a Safer Future

Advocacy isn’t just about individual healing—it’s about systemic change. We need trauma-informed mental health care, accessible support systems, and safe spaces where survivors can share their experiences without fear of judgment. By opening up about our trauma to individuals and organizations that can effect change we are not only exhibiting resilience in our journey to healing but giving other survivors of trauma a voice and reassurance that there support, empathy and understanding in spaces where previously we didn’t feel confidence in. 

Final Thoughts

Living at the intersection of Mania and trauma has been the hardest fight of my life, but it’s also been my greatest teacher. I’ve learned resilience, self-compassion, and the power of community. Healing doesn’t erase the pain, but it transforms it, allowing you to move forward with strength and purpose.

If you’re reading this and feeling trapped by your trauma or mental health struggles, please know you’re not alone. There is hope, and there is help. Reach out, speak up, and take that first step toward reclaiming your life.

You are stronger than your pain. Together, we can break the silence and build a future where healing is possible for all of us. Remember there is light at the end of this very dark tunnel and there is definitely sunshine after the rain.

This isn’t just my story. It’s the story of countless women and girls whose mental health are impacted by gender-based violence (GBV). It’s a story about survival, recovery, and the complex intersection of trauma and mental illness. I’m sharing this because it’s time to break the silence and reclaim our narratives—not just for myself but for others who feel unseen, unheard, or unworthy of healing.

Understanding Gender-Based Violence: A Survivor’s Lens

What Gender-based Violence (GBV) Looks Like for Me

For me, GBV wasn’t an abstract concept; it was a crushing reality. It was the way my high school boyfriend used charm to mask his manipulation, how he pressured me into uncomfortable situations, and the moment he crossed an unforgivable line by orchestrating my assault.

This is the nature of GBV—it often happens at the hands of someone you know, someone you trust. It can be physical, emotional, or sexual, and it leaves behind wounds that don’t always show on the surface.

The Silent Epidemic

The statistics are staggering: In Canada, over 34,000 sexual assaults were reported in 2021 alone. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg—most incidents, like mine, go unreported. Survivors stay silent for many reasons: fear, shame, or the belief that no one will believe them. For women with mental health conditions, the risk is even greater. We are seven times more likely to be assaulted than others, making our vulnerabilities feel like targets.

Living With Bipolar Disorder After Gender-based Violence (GBV)

The Ripple Effects of Trauma

The trauma did not just hurt me in the moment; it changed the course of my life and my mental health. At first, I was diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder. It wasn’t until my 20s, after years of unexplained emotional highs and lows, that I was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. Looking back, I realize how much the assault triggered and amplified my symptoms.

During manic episodes, I made reckless decisions—seeking validation, ignoring my instincts, and putting myself in risky situations. During depressive episodes, I felt consumed by shame and fear, reliving the assault over and over in my mind. I became trapped in a cycle of emotional instability that seemed impossible to break.

Intimacy as a Battlefield

Intimacy became one of my biggest challenges. I couldn’t separate physical closeness from the violence I’d endured. My trauma response was visceral: flashbacks, shaking, hyperventilating. Even when I managed to push through, I’d leave the experience feeling dirty, ashamed, and unworthy. I coped the only way I knew how—with cannabis, used to dull the fear and guilt. But numbing myself wasn’t healing. It was just survival.

Breaking the Cycle: My Path to Recovery

The Moment I Sought Help

I hit a breaking point in my 30s. After years of running from my trauma, I finally admitted that I needed help. I reached out to my local rape crisis centre and began weekly counselling sessions. Talking about the assault was excruciating, but it was also liberating. For the first time, I felt seen and heard.

Through cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), I confronted my fears head-on. Exposure therapy helped me reframe my interactions with men and take back some of the power I felt I had lost. Healing wasn’t linear, but it was possible.

What Recovery Looks Like for Me

Recovery did not mean erasing what happened—it meant learning how to live with it. It meant forgiving myself for the ways I coped, embracing my resilience, and finding tools to navigate my triggers. It also meant leaning on resources like the Oshawa-Durham Rape Crisis Centre and Women’s College Hospital’s trauma therapy programs.

The Bigger Picture: Empowering Survivors

We Deserve Better

As survivors, we are often told to “move on” or “let it go,” but healing doesn’t work that way. It takes time, effort, and support. And it requires a society willing to confront the roots of Gender-based violence (GBV) and the stigma surrounding mental illness.

Advocacy has become a part of my recovery. By sharing my story, I hope to challenge the systems that failed me and to create safer spaces for other survivors. Whether it’s through supporting local crisis centres, pushing for policy changes, or simply listening to survivors without judgment, we all have a role to play.

Final Thoughts

 A Message to Fellow Survivors

To anyone reading this who feels trapped by their trauma, I see you. I am you. And I want you to know that healing is possible. It’s not easy, and it won’t erase the pain, but it can help you find peace.

You didn’t ask for this. What happened to you is not your fault. But your healing? That’s yours to claim. You are worthy of recovery, of love, and of a life free from the shadows of your past.

Recovery and healing from trauma is not going to be easy. You will have days you regret starting the journey and you want to walk away from revisiting some of the most painful memories of your life. But I ask you to keep trying, keep working toward the goal of healing and keep fighting for yourself and your future happiness. Do not let your past dictate your future and do not let your perpetrator steal your joy. 

Let’s break the silence together. Let’s fight for a world where survivors are heard, believed, and empowered to heal. You are not alone. There is light at the end of this very dark tunnel and there is definitely sunshine after the rain.