Month Eight of Remote Year: Australasia
Well, really it was Antarctica, Australia and New Zealand
This month, January, was a big one. It took me to 3 continents, challenged me, and gave me the most amount of nature I’ve been able to experience all at one time.
For the first week of the month I was in Antarctica, for the second I was in Australia, and for the last two I’ve been in New Zealand. Each one of these countries could be considered the trip of a lifetime for so many people, and yet somehow I’ve been able to experience all of them back to back. I’ve fully fallen into the whole “I can’t believe I’m doing this” mindset because every day is just another set of events that amaze me. Believe me, I think this is just as crazy as you all do.
I’ve thought quite a lot about this post, and more specifically, one thing in particular that I’ve gone back and forth on deciding to share. It’ll put a lot more things about what I’ve already shared in context and, potentially, perspective.
I have bipolar disorder.
I was formally diagnosed with it about 8 years ago through a series of fairly severe and dramatic events. I say “formally diagnosed” because I knew that I had it for years before that, but it took a ton of time for a medical professional to finally give me something to work with. Basically, it had to get that bad first. The vast majority of people in my life, both abroad and back home, don’t know this part of me. To be honest, a lot of that is by design. It was never anything personal, trust me, but it was about my willingness to expose this side to you all along with that story.
I’ve become very accustomed to living my life in extremes, because that’s how things swing for me internally. Some days are great, some days are the worst, but now more often than not they tend to swing right into the middle where it’s not so bad. These swings left and right between mania and depression have dictated many of my decisions over the last several years: who I date, who I befriend, where I live, where I travel to, how often I travel, how many hours I work, how much effort gets applied to my projects, and so on and so forth. The effects are endless. It’s certainly not as simple as just mood swings.
Case in point, the last eight months. And especially these non-stop last couple of months. Having this lifestyle paired with this mental illness has been one of my biggest challenges, and also one of my biggest payoffs.
Back in NYC, my route to stability was through routine. By the way I got ready for work in the morning, the commute I took to the office, what I ate, the way I approached my projects, how I organized my desk, etc. I haven’t been on medication for bipolar in 6.5 years. So having a routine that was reliable and applicable and would eventually become muscle memory was the #1 thing I leaned on when everything else inside was chaotic. And worse, sometimes unexplainable. It’s a terrible feeling to not be able to explain why your mood all of a sudden changes — it’s not logical by societal norms.
So jumping into Remote Year, upheaving all traces of that routine and embarking on a journey that I wouldn’t be able to predict was not only terrifying, it was a ridiculous personal challenge. It’s a big deal for any average person, but for someone with bipolar or any other mental issue, it has the potential to be fairly problematic too.
Learn how to breathe slowly (and deeply).
Antarctica jumpstarted my ability to just sit somewhere and absorb. To take in the scenery, to reflect, to think, to focus, to find the calm. It’s most of what I did for two weeks. From there, I moved to Sydney, Australia for 9 days and was mindful of continuing to do the same. Long walks to Bronte and Bondi Beach from the city centre gave me the sun and scenery I craved, but also allowed me to fine-tune my pace. Hikes in the Blue Mountains, days spent walking through the city and hours spent working in local outdoor cafes provided the energy and focus I needed to channel the internal chaos that I often felt inside.
Now during my two week stint in New Zealand, road tripping all over the Southern Island to some breathtaking locations, I don’t have to work nearly as hard to absorb. Our road trip is really only about that: incredible landscapes that surround the roads, mountains to hike through, lakes to wake up to, waterfalls to bathe in and beaches to run around on. It’s made me realize that time in nature is the balance I’ve been lacking in life and that cities are (almost) all the same. Generally speaking.
Learn what works for you and what doesn’t, then don’t fight your gut.
I had spent a good chunk of December seriously contemplating if I was going to stay with my group till the end. I looked at it from multiple angles, weighed the pros and cons, and factored in my emotions. Ultimately I decided to finish out the year with everyone because at the end of the day, as much as I love making my own calls and bouncing around however and whenever I please, I knew that I needed the relationships. I needed the people.
I’m not someone who does well with superficial friends, but instead leans on and works on more meaningful relationships that go deep. As many excellent people that I’ve met on my adventures these last couple of months, I missed the people that I connected with and have known for a while. Being back around them has given me the shoulders I need to lean on, the honest and compassionate advice that I search for, and the mental safety net I have to have to gauge my perception of reality. These people are absolute gems.
Learn how to handle the swings.
Not every day in the last 8 months has been impeccable, despite what my Instagram might say. I’ve had days where it was legitimately impossible to get out of bed (sometimes multiple days in a row), and then other days where those dark things everyone tries to shove down come roaring back up at 10pm when you’re out at a bar with friends. These parts of my life existed for years before Remote Year, and clearly still exist now. They’ll still be there long after this year is over too. But I’m just learning to adjust my coping mechanisms as needed and build a toolbox of tricks to pull from. I knew travel would never allow me to outrun bipolar, but it would afford me the chance to come to terms with having it.
Before the last few months, I’d never been truly okay with feeling happy. For me, it was always one side of the pendulum that I knew I’d swing back from. Many other people accept “happiness” for what it is, but to me it was always an omen of negative times to come. Now, though, I’ve fully embraced it. This is going to sound odd to most, but it currently overwhelms me when I realize I’m not only content now, but that I have been for days or weeks at a time. In the last couple of months it’s brought me to tears because it’s a hurdle I never really imagined overcoming.
Learn to appreciate the (big and) small wins.
It’s a philosophy I’ve utilized over the last couple of years—and one that I’ve recently begun to apply in our card games of Oh Hell when I want to screw with my arch-nemesis—and it’s to go for the battles not the war. Celebrating wins, no matter how big or small, and taking the time to revel in that joy, is incredibly important to finding balance. We, maybe specifically Americans, have a tendency to always push the bar and reach for higher and higher. Often forsaking the value and effort of just reaching that initial goal. I’m trying to flip that around and enjoy the small things as they come along: a sunny afternoon in between days of pouring rain, a hot shower after 5 days of driving, a personal conversation with a best friend, or an hour spent under the stars on my back and witnessing the Milky Way and my first shooting star. Which allows me to really celebrate the big things: hitting all 7 continents, reaching my dream country of Australia, somehow financing 8+ months living and working abroad on my own, or knowing that I’ll actually be able to manage my bipolar just fine.
At the end of May I’ll be back in NYC for a while. I’m not sure for how long, or what I’ll be doing, or where I might end up. But despite everything that I don’t have the answers to yet, I do know one thing: I won’t be coming back the same person. Which really was the point of this whole year. And I truly hope that it ends up not feeling like a day has passed when I finally meet up with and hug all those that I have (and currently do) miss so much.
Publishing this post was a really difficult thing to do, but one that I felt became necessary for my journey. It’s because of the bravery and boldness of Alanna John in sharing her personal family stories across social media that first planted the seed in August. Then it was Brendan Reynolds electing to be honest and vulnerable, but confident, in sharing his personal battle with dyslexia back in October. After both of them, it was also Anne Aretz discussing her chronic illness with eloquence, intelligence and determination. Then finally, it was a stranger’s encouraging comment on one of my Instagram photos that pushed this little thought over the edge.
Thank you, even though you didn’t know what you were doing. You’ve helped empower me throughout my year abroad.
