The Awakening: Accepting My Bipolar Diagnosis and Taking Control
Denial, Relapse, and the Incident That Changed Everything.
The first year of living with my diagnosis was a challenge. I cycled through anger, frustration, and depression, hiding the torment inside. I convinced myself I was getting better. I started skipping my medication, lying to my psychiatrist, and believing I didn’t need treatment anymore.
Then, the one-year anniversary of my first episode arrived. Overwhelmed with emotions, I started sending messages of gratitude to friends and family. The messages spiralled out of control. One friend—who had been with me during my first episode—noticed something was off. She urged me to seek help, warning my mother and me of the danger ahead.
I agreed to see my psychiatrist, but I didn’t think it was an emergency. I told myself I had it under control.
The next morning, I felt different. Something was off. On my way to work, paranoia crept in. I became convinced a helicopter was following me. I drove erratically, weaving through traffic, convinced I was being tracked. By the time I arrived at the office, I was in full-blown psychosis.
I saw people watching me. The security cameras reinforced my fears. My mind raced. I was mapping out a strategy to fight against the people I thought were plotting against me.
And then, in the lobby of my office building, everything came to a head.
I stripped naked. I threw a punch at the first person I saw.
From Crisis to Support:
Finding My Safe Space
I was lucky. In another setting, I could have been arrested and charged with assault. Instead, my workplace reacted with compassion. The building manager, my company’s national security officer, and several coworkers—who I trusted—came to my side.
They calmed me down. They didn’t treat me like a criminal.
Two of my closest work friends rode with me in the ambulance to the emergency room. I was still in psychosis, but being surrounded by people who cared about me made all the difference.
At the hospital, my friends made sure my mother was informed and supported. My best friend stayed with me late into the night as I transitioned from the emergency room to a secure inpatient psychiatric ward.
The first few days were tough. But slowly, the treatment helped stabilize me. After two weeks, I was ready to go home—this time, truly ready to process what had happened.
The Aha Moment:
Acceptance and Doing the Work
This was my awakening. I finally understood that I had to take control of my life, my diagnosis, and my healing.
No more denial. No more ignoring my treatment plan. No more listening to outside voices telling me what was best for me.
I was placed on short-term disability leave. Over the next three months, I committed to my healing:
I took my medication consistently.
I eliminated alcohol.
I had deep, meaningful conversations with my support network.
I opened up like never before.
By the time I returned to work, I was truly ready. My employer placed me on a one-year probation, ensuring I followed my medical treatment plan. Looking back, I understand this was a fair expectation—I had been lucky to avoid legal consequences.
My first day back was different. My employer brought in a psychologist to help me process my return. My team, many of whom had witnessed my episode, also met with the psychologist to address their own concerns and find ways to support me.
This was how healing started—not just for me, but for the people around me.
Moving Forward:
Thriving With Bipolar Disorder
Over the next four years, I learned how to truly live with my condition—not just survive it, but thrive.
I embraced my role as a mental health advocate.
I found purpose in sharing my story.
I reclaimed control of my life.
Then, in 2020, during the COVID-19 era, I was terminated from my job. I will never fully know if my past episodes played a role in my dismissal. But instead of feeling devastated, I felt relief. It was time for something new.
With my severance, I took what I saw as a “paid sabbatical” to figure out my next steps. That’s when I built my own accounting advisory business. I also founded Bipolar Empath, creating a platform to advocate for mental health and share my story with those who need to hear it.
Crystal Ball Reflection:
What I’ve Learned
Looking back, I see how every moment led me to this place. Here are the key lessons I’ve taken away:
Seek support. Lean on your safe space—friends, family, and trained professionals.
Work with medical professionals. While no treatment is perfect, psychiatrists have seen enough cases to help stabilize you.
Make educated decisions for yourself. People will have opinions, but only you can determine what works for you.
Forgive yourself. Healing starts with self-compassion.
Be kind to yourself. Let go of blame. Give yourself permission to feel. Seek the support you need. Honour your limitations. Let go of expectations.
Acknowledge small wins. Some days, getting out of bed is the victory. Celebrate every step forward.
Final Thoughts
I was one of the lucky ones. I had support. I was in a safe space. I was given the chance to recover.
But not everyone gets that chance.
We need to do better. Society needs to do better. We need to treat those in crisis with compassion—not criminalization.
And for those who are struggling—know that you are not alone. Healing is possible. Acceptance is possible. Thriving is possible.
I am proof of that.
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SHAK TODAY
Shak is pursuing his Master of Arts in Counseling Psychology (MACP) and will start his practicum in January. He's involved with the Canadian Mental Health Association and he's working on turning his blog, Bipolar Empath, into a book while managing his accounting business.
Stay tuned for more updates on Shak’s journey and the impact he continues to make in the mental health community!
