14/05/2026
I have been contemplating this post since returning to my Airbnb in Kulin last night after attending as a panellist at the Grace, Grit and Growth women’s event organised by Kulin CRC. I am sharing, as I would like to be someone who tries to lead by example. Not by pretending to have everything figured out, nor by presenting myself as resilient every moment of every day, but by showing that honesty, self-awareness and vulnerability can exist alongside leadership, professionalism and community contribution.
This face is the face of someone who wants to share but worries. Someone who needs to speak but still reserves some words for certain occasions (which says a lot as anyone who knows me, knows I always have something to say). It is the face of someone who experienced some rather large feelings in a very short eight hours.
I lead a life of both confliction and certainty; which, in many ways, means I am certainly conflicted most of the time. On top of that, I reflect on everything, both good and bad. I would like to say reflection always leads to growth, but that would be a lie.
Last night, whilst on the panel, I was asked a question about grit in women in the Wheatbelt: “Was there a point in your life where you really had to dig deep and keep going, even when things were hard or you didn’t know what to do next?”
That was actually a fairly easy one for me to answer. Two and a half years ago, I struggled through two major breakdowns within an eight-month period. I was experiencing behaviours and emotions on a level I did not know I was capable of. This eventually led to a diagnosis of Bipolar II and meeting the criteria for ADHD.
Now, I do not share this for sympathy or praise. I share it because it is a conversation that I believe needs to start, one that will benefit not only myself, but other people navigating diagnosis, difficult experiences, or supporting someone who is.
For those who may not know, Bipolar II is a mental health condition where a person experiences ongoing shifts in mood, energy and motivation. These changes are more significant than the usual ups and downs people experience day to day. For me personally, during a hypomanic episode I experience feelings of elevated joy, feeling like I have enough physical energy to run to Tasmania and bouts of impulsivity. During depressive episodes I experience numbness, low mood, an inability to focus and frustration towards myself. These episodes can last from half an hour to 24 hours. I can move from one to another within minutes or days.
After sharing this last night, I asked the audience not to view what I had said as bravery. I realise that may sound controversial or may have even ruffled some feathers but hear me out.
Mental health is not new. It has existed for generations. A conversation the other day reminded me of something important, how many of us had grandparents who were encouraged to have a nip or three of brandy before bed? Who had “Mum’s little helper” tablets prescribed to them? Smoking was even marketed as calming because the deep breathing in and out created a temporary sense of calm. These coping mechanisms existed because conversations surrounding mental health 50 years ago did not.
That is why I share what I share, and why I struggle to call it bravery. I see it as responsibility. Sometimes I share even when I do not want to. And when I have those moments, I remind myself what my own journey has felt like, and I acknowledge that I do not want younger generations to feel the way I once did.
I do not want people to see fear in someone’s eyes the moment they finally open up. I do not want that fear to become the reason they never share again.
I have never expected sympathy, nor do I expect people to fully understand my struggles, because no one truly can except the person living them. But I do hope we reach a point where people can simply listen. They may agree or disagree, but still actively create spaces where people feel safe to speak, if someone is willing to listen.
I think one of the biggest reminders from last night is this, most people would never know what is happening internally while I continue to work, show up, run a business, contribute to my community and move through daily life. And I know I am not alone in that.
Which reiterates something incredibly important: we truly have no idea what another person is carrying at any given time. Please remember that.
And if you are someone navigating your own struggles, supporting someone you love, or simply wanting to understand more about mental health and lived experience, I am always open to a conversation. Just remember, I am speaking from lived experience only.
