The Crash: A Reality Check
Note: This post contains descriptions of a mental health event and psychosis that I experienced during one of my episodes. Please read with caution.
The irony of my crash was that, on the surface, I seemed to have it all together. I was at the peak of my corporate career, surrounded by meaningful friendships, and in a fulfilling romantic relationship. What could possibly be wrong?
In what was meant to be one of my final years as a Director—on the verge of being nominated for partnership at my accounting firm—I was selected to attend a prestigious global partnership development program for senior managers. To put this into perspective, 150 individuals from around the world were chosen, with just nine representatives from Canada, in a company boasting over 200,000 employees.
I was thrilled. This opportunity felt like a sign that my admission into the partnership was just around the corner. But, as the saying goes, the universe has a way of shaking things up when we least expect it.
One of the first questions posed at the conference was, “What is your biggest fear coming into this program?” For reasons I couldn’t quite grasp, my only logical answer was that I wasn’t living according to my core values. At the time, I struggled to articulate what those values were, but my gut screamed that I was not being true to myself. As fate would have it, when we placed our responses into a hat and drew them out randomly, I ended up reading my own response. I couldn’t help but think that the universe was nudging me to take a closer look.
The program, which unfolded over seven months, was rife with psychological components that prompted deep self-reflection. Little did I know that I was unwittingly working through my discontent and wrestling with my values in a way I wasn’t fully prepared for. In hindsight, I should have been consulting a psychologist while undergoing this transformative journey, as I was battling a wave of emotions I couldn’t fully comprehend.
The program wrapped up in France in November 2016, and as we reflected on our learnings, I realized that my growth was far more personal than professional. While others were sad to leave behind the connections we had formed, I was excited yet acutely aware that difficult conversations awaited me at home. I had to confront the ways I had let down the people I loved.
Then, it happened: the psychological break, the ensuing crash.
During one of the final exercises, we spent eight hours preparing reflections on our experiences. I was proud to hear my peers’ stories but quickly became overwhelmed with emotion. As the day progressed, I felt fidgety and suffocated. Although my presentation was not last, it was close, and I had prepared a beautiful reflection video showcasing my growth. However, when my turn came, I found myself delivering an impromptu speech instead—a disjointed mash of thoughts that likely left my peers concerned.
I never had direct conversations about that day, but I could see the worry etched on their faces as I spiraled. At that moment, I was unaware of my own distress.
As the program concluded, paranoia set in. I felt certain that my peers were whispering about me behind my back, and I was enraged at the thought. I decided to stay an extra night in France to unwind before flying back to Toronto, but what followed was a complete break from reality.
The days that followed felt surreal—like I was trapped in a first-person video game, akin to The Legend of Zelda, desperately trying to unravel a mystery.
A few concerned peers who had also lingered behind insisted on staying with me. They even contacted my company’s global team, declaring an emergency. At their urging, I was convinced to seek medical help. It’s no wonder they thought I might be on drugs; the reality was far more complex.
I concocted a narrative that two of my peers were there to help me while one sought to harm me. In retrospect, this paranoia was a manifestation of psychosis—an unsettling disconnect from reality.
Ultimately, my company and my mother decided that I needed to be flown back to Toronto and admitted to the emergency room for evaluation. Navigating this situation as a person of Muslim descent attempting to board an international flight was a challenge, to say the least.
The nurse who assisted me during this process was nothing short of remarkable. He expertly guided me from the hotel to the airport, ensuring I boarded the flight sedated enough to prevent any outbursts. I genuinely believe he was sent by a higher power to get me back to my mother in Toronto, who must have been filled with worry.
Upon arrival at the hospital, my mother awaited me. I was still engulfed in psychosis, convinced that there were dangerous people at my company who wanted to sabotage my career. The strength of those feelings made it challenging to distinguish reality from the chaos of my mind. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face—a mixture of confusion and fear that stemmed from her concern for me.
When the doctor entered, his approach was anything but compassionate. “You appear to have bipolar disorder, and don’t think that you know more than me on this topic,” he stated. I was taken aback—what did it mean to be bipolar? At that moment, I had little understanding of mental health issues.
Given my experience at the first hospital, my mother and I decided to seek care at a second facility further away. I was still in a state of psychosis, but the emergency room doctor and I mutually agreed that I should be admitted to an inpatient care unit for a thorough assessment and stabilization of my symptoms. Over the next two weeks, a series of blood tests and medications helped stabilize my mood and alleviate the psychosis.
I feel fortunate that I was able to see a psychiatrist so quickly; in Canada, waiting times for mental health services can extend up to 18 months. My emergency situation expedited my access to care, which was a blessing.
Crystal Ball Reflection
Looking back, it’s clear that some life decisions I made led me far from my core values. While I regret the pain I caused those I love, I believe I needed to stumble to grow into a better version of myself.
As for the leadership program, I don’t blame the company for what happened. However, I urge employers to reflect on the psychological components of their developmental programs. Warnings about the emotional intensity of certain exercises could help participants gauge their preparedness. While we were assigned a career coach, the work felt deeply personal and not directly tied to my corporate role.
I’ve come to understand the importance of speaking about our issues. Bottling up emotions only exacerbates our struggles. Whether it’s a trained professional or a trusted friend, sharing your burdens can lighten the load. You don’t have to fight your demons alone; find someone you can confide in.
Lastly, recognizing the signs of an impending crisis can be challenging for family, friends, and coworkers. I had no prior diagnosis, and a perfect storm led to my situation being uncovered. The friends who remained with me acted with extraordinary care and concern, and I’m grateful for their support. As we continue to talk openly about mental health, I encourage everyone to consider basic mental health first aid training. It’s a valuable tool that can help us understand and respond to mental health challenges more effectively.
In future posts, I’ll delve deeper into living with bipolar disorder and the events that shaped my recovery journey. While everyone experiences the condition differently, this reflection captures how my journey began.
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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!
