Bipolar Mum Journey

When people think about bipolar disorder, they often picture the high energy, the racing thoughts, the drive that can push someone forward with a force that seems almost unstoppable. Hypomania can feel electrifying, inspiring, even euphoric but as many who experience it know, what comes next can be something much darker. After the heights of hypomania, there’s often a pull into a deep, shadowy space that can feel as intense as it is unwelcome. This emotional downturn is not just a dip in energy; it’s an immersion into a kind of “dark energy” that’s both isolating and overwhelming.

This phase often feels like stepping into a void where every doubt, every hurt, and every frustration resurfaces with newfound intensity. It’s as if, after being on a fast-moving wave, you’re suddenly pulled into an undertow that refuses to let go. For those who struggle with the residual darkness that follows hypomania, it’s not just about low mood; it’s about a profound emotional weight that seems to magnify everything painful, everything unresolved. old memories, fears, and unhealed traumas reemerge, sometimes taking on a life of their own. These feelings don’t feel rational or organised; they feel like shadows at war within you, demanding to be felt, demanding to be heard.

One of the stranger effects of this “dark energy” is how quickly it can turn political. There’s a sense that the personal is inseparable from the larger world, issues that may have previously felt distant or abstract suddenly feel deeply personal. The anger and frustration felt internally seems to merge with the anger and frustration seen in the world. Everything becomes raw, and it’s easy to feel the need to rail against the systems, the injustices, the dysfunction that seems everywhere. It’s as if the darkness amplifies sensitivity to injustice, making it hard to separate one’s own wounds from the world’s.

In this state, we become deeply connected to our own stories of struggle, even trauma, and it’s easy to slip into the feeling that we are surrounded by battles that need fighting, narratives that need telling. Political issues can become almost unbearably personal. Perhaps it’s because, when raw emotions are exposed, so are the things that make us human, the need for connection, for justice, for a world that makes sense. It becomes hard to draw the line between our individual experiences of pain and the broader suffering that others endure. This overlap can create a sense of solidarity, yes, but it can also create an emotional whirlpool, one that leaves little room for rational distance.

The aftermath of hypomania isn’t just a crash in mood; it’s often a transformation in perception. The energy that felt bright and hopeful only days before can turn jagged and accusatory. Our minds may turn inward, replaying regrets, amplifying insecurities, or they might turn outward, demanding justice and answers for a world that so often seems broken. It’s a complex, sometimes frightening place to be, and for those who find themselves there, the darkness can feel just as intense as the light they rode during the hypomanic phase.

Managing this experience requires immense patience and compassion for oneself. It means recognising that these political feelings, these surges of dark energy, are part of a process. The thoughts and emotions may be intense, but they don’t have to be the last word on our experiences. In the midst of it, small grounding practices, whether through creative expression, spending time in nature, or connecting with supportive people, can help keep a tether to the present.

For those who understand this cycle firsthand, know that you’re not alone in feeling the weight of this dark energy. And, even if the darkness feels consuming, remember that, like the hypomanic wave before it, this too shall pass.