It was an adjustment moving to Canada as a whole. Everything was a lot more laid back and slower-paced. Living in Glasgow, Perth & London, this was certainly not the case.
I quickly settled and fell in love with my new home but sadly within my first year on the island, I experienced some severe trauma. I won’t go into it now as I’m not quite ready for that, but let’s just say it was a time!
I made what I thought was a conscious decision to stop living in pain and anguish and move forward, but unbeknownst to me, the elevated mood I soon found myself in was a bit of a danger zone.
I was back to who I was in Australia. Most days I was fearless and running at everything with a loose tongue.
I had so much fun and got so many things off the bucket list but there was always this lingering feeling that something was not 100% right. Especially on those days where I would kick-off, flip out or the opposite when I would wrap myself in my blankets, turn off the lights and cry for hours.
It was a strange time for sure, but I had been there before.
I often chalked it up to being ‘just the way I was’. At this point, I had little to no education on bipolar. I had no idea what hypomania was.
The next couple of years were fab besides the ups and downs I had now grown used to. I got to show my mum around my beautiful new home and we did so many cool things together, like camping, a trip to Seattle, afternoon tea, whale watching and even kayaking. Mum was such a great sport and with my new elevated mood, I had planned every day to the minute and packed in so much adventure for us. That was one of the best summers of my life. Mum and I’s relationship grew so much stronger.
The fun continued with a trip to vegas and then a road trip through the west coast of the states. We cycled the Golden Gate Bridge, rollerbladed down Venice Beach, drove the Big Sur, got ice cream at Santa Monica Pier, watched Dave Chapelle and Flight of the Conchords live, I even got to see my favourite band play in San Fransico!
WOW. The things I could accomplish when I was, in hindsight, ‘hypomanic’.
But as always, there was a downswing. I was so riddled with anxiety that my moods would sometimes whip around all over the place. I would suffer severe panic attacks but have no idea what they were and would be too terrified to talk about it. I would be so depressed that I once again considered hurting myself, but I knew I had to push through it. I knew I was here for a reason.