The real (REAL) reason why I started a YouTube channel
It’s only been a month since I started my YouTube channel, and I’m already exhausted. Not just from making videos (well, okay, a little bit), but mostly because so much of my energy has gone into answering this one question:
Why am I doing this?
I’m an introvert. I’m camera shy. I get overwhelmed easily. I can’t say “smash that like button and subscribe to my channel” without sounding like a complete phony. Of course, I cringe — but I’ve also started to experience something called self-compassion, and it’s freaking awesome.
What changed is that I reached a point where my desires grew stronger than my fears. My desire to create. My desire to tell stories. My desire to make my depression “worth it.”
One of the hardest parts of living with mental illness is facing what people call the “wasted years.”
I was a happy person — until I turned seventeen. Things started to feel heavier after that. I called it growing up. But it crept in quietly, insidiously, as it often does — and cruelly convinced me that I was alone.
I wasn’t really present during those years — not until I turned twenty-five. Shortly after my birthday, I had a manic episode triggered by an antidepressant. That’s when I got the diagnosis: Bipolar I. (Surprise!)
Finding out that my depression was part of bipolar disorder was a shock — but also a huge relief. I was finally able to get proper treatment and no longer felt debilitated by my condition.
That’s not to say it’s been easy. I felt a lot of anger over missing what I believed were my best years. I felt shame over being at the mercy of my extreme emotional states. And, of course, there was the dazed chaos of being thrust into another reality.
Coming down from psychosis was like the aftermath of an earthquake. An eerie silence echoed. I was left to piece together the puzzle of my brain — to deal with the destruction.
It’s hard not to speak in abstract terms — the crisis really felt otherworldly.
But unlike what depression tried to convince me, I knew I wasn’t alone.
My mood stabilizers keep me grounded, yes — but somewhere deep in my soul, I saw through the storm and the fog.
I felt a divine premonition: this was meant to be.
I wouldn’t wish those kinds of lows on anyone. But I’m grateful — for the resilience I gained, and the newfound appreciation I have for stability. I never imagined calm could feel intoxicating — until I’d spent years on a rollercoaster I never chose to ride.
As I rebuild a stronger foundation, I’ve been reflecting on my core values — with authenticity as a driving force. I’ve learned that hiding who I am to make others comfortable is just another form of self-betrayal — and life is too short for that.
I used to stay quiet because I never felt like I had a story to tell. And when I was first diagnosed with a mental illness, I mentally wrote myself off — convinced that I wasn’t capable of doing much of anything.
But with time and healing, I came to realize that I do have something to offer — and that my lived experience with bipolar disorder has only deepened my sense of purpose: to share my story and inspire others.
My YouTube channel may be small, and my writing hasn’t reached a wide audience yet, but I have a big — optimistic, not manic — vision for where this passion project, thewatercolourdiaries, is headed.
Through art journaling, writing, and conversation, I hope to inspire others to embrace their true selves, find healing through creativity, and realize that even the darkest moments can lead to unexpected growth and light.