My Bipolar Travel Journal

Traveling with bipolar disorder is simultaneously exciting and terrifying. To make it less daunting, make a wellness plan before you travel to ensure you stay on track.

Last year I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder following twelve years of being incorrectly treated for depression.  They believed that it had been triggered by my first pregnancy in 2003 as I had never suffered depression prior to this.  I have adjusted well to my diagnosis and am continuing to be a passionate advocate for mental health awareness. 

My trip was, as you would expect, a roller-coaster of emotional highs and lows.

Last month I returned to England for four weeks for a holiday, my first trip home in 11 years.  I didn’t seem to struggle with jet lag following our trip over there and adjusted well to the time difference.  During our trip I caught up with a number of friends that I have stayed in contact with, mostly through Facebook.  In every case it was as though we had seen each other the previous week and I think it shows the true measure of a friendship to be able to pick up just as we left off.  When discussing my recent diagnosis with many of these friends, they told me that they had not been surprised by my diagnosis as often throughout the years I had displayed signs of hypomania (they didn’t use this term), becoming highly focused on whatever new idea I had come up with. This was a huge shock to me, after all, I had only just accepted the fact that I was now living with a serious mental health challenge that could affect the rest of my life and already had been affecting my closest relationships.  Yet again I’d been thrown a curve ball that I hadn’t been expecting and certainly wasn’t prepared for. 

My trip was, as you would expect, a roller-coaster of emotional highs and lows.  The highs of seeing the people closest to my heart, of re-connecting with old friends and watching my children meet and play with their cousins for the first time.  The lows of knowing that it may be some time before I get to visit again, knowing that something could happen to one of my loved ones and I would be on the other side of the world and seeing my children upset by the knowledge that we would be leaving their family too soon. 

I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling and didn’t know what to do. 

In the last week of our trip, I cracked.  I was emotionally spent.  I began to feel completely overwhelmed, lost, broken and empty.  I couldn’t stop crying, shaking and felt as though I were losing touch with reality.  I felt completely brokenhearted that I had to leave the country where I had grown up, leave my parents, my siblings and my friends.  I believed wholeheartedly in that moment that I needed to stay there, giving up everything I had spent 13 years working for in Australia, possibly even my husband and children if necessary.  My husband had already returned to Australia for work and I was alone in our apartment with my children.  I didn’t know what to do and I was really scared, so scared and out of control that I seriously considered driving myself to the hospital.  These were feelings that I hadn’t experienced before, having only been hypomanic previously and had only ever felt positive, focused and unbeatable.  I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling and didn’t know what to do. 

Thankfully I have an incredible bipolar friend who lives in the UK, who I had met in an online group.  I can honestly say that she saved me in those moments.  She reassured me that what I was feeling was not real and that it was mania talking.  She told me that the emotions I was experiencing had been evoked by my rose-tinted holiday glasses.  Of course life in England would seem perfect when all I had to focus on was visiting friends and family, going to the theatre, museums and art galleries and gallivanting around the country where and when I pleased.  “Real life”, she said, “isn’t like that is it?”.  I felt so utterly alone and as if I were breaking apart – my thoughts were whirling around my head, not making any sense and I was finding it hard to focus on what she was saying.  We continued to talk for quite some time, with her questioning my thoughts, talking calmly and rationally to me, but in a very gentle and supportive way.  The more we talked, the more calm I felt, continually telling myself that what I was thinking and feeling was not real and it was the bipolar making me think irrationally.  I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had someone to speak to who understood what I was going through and was prepared to not just listen, but carefully challenge my thinking. 

I miss England and all that it contains dreadfully, but I know that I’m where I’m meant to be, doing what I’m meant to be doing…

I got through the rest of the holiday with only a few wobbles and returned home to blue Autumn skies and my normal routine.  Much as it was incredibly hard to leave my family and friends, getting back to my day to day life has been important in returning to balance and stability.  I miss England and all that it contains dreadfully, but I know that I’m where I’m meant to be, doing what I’m meant to be doing – an active and passionate advocate for mental health awareness.