I wanted to write this because it’s not a topic that’s brought up often by travelers or bloggers. Mental health, and especially the less ‘Instagrammable’ sides of it, often gets left out of the narrative. This is for anyone who might feel isolated or misunderstood while traveling, especially if you’re navigating the road with a mental health condition like bipolar disorder. When people picture long-term travel, they think of adventure, meeting new people, and constant happiness. What they don’t picture is quietly managing mood stabilisers in a guesthouse in rural Peru while trying to figure out if the high-altitude dizziness is physical… or mental.
This isn’t medical advice, just my personal experience managing bipolar disorder while on the move.
Getting Diagnosed
I lived years of my life without knowing I had bipolar II. For those unfamiliar: bipolar II involves mood swings between hypomania (a milder form of mania) and depression. It’s not as extreme as bipolar I, but it’s still serious, and often misunderstood or misdiagnosed.
I didn’t struggle much with getting diagnosed, but realising that this was something I’d be dealing with for the rest of my life? That was harder.
I was diagnosed in 2023, right before attempting an ultramarathon in Chile (which I didn’t finish, but that’s another story). I started medication right after coming back, and I’ve been on it since. While I’m currently able to manage things fairly well, traveling still comes with a lot of planning, unpredictability, and yes: mood swings, especially in high-stress or constantly changing environments.
Preparation: The Backpack Pharmacy
One of the first things I had to accept was that I need to have my meds with me at all times. This meant thinking ahead. I now travel with a mini-pharmacy, enough to last several months, with backup options in case I run out.
Bipolar is a widely acknowledged condition, so I'm usually able to refill my medication in other countries by visiting a local doctor. Still, I always carry an extra prescription and a signed letter from my doctor or psychiatrist, just in case customs or pharmacists have questions.
The Travel Triggers
Even with medication, I still struggle with changes. Stability has always been something I needed, and it’s hard to find when you’re switching beds, cities, or countries every few days. I traveled long-term before being diagnosed and unmedicated, and I remember how hard it was. Constantly changing routines, disrupted sleep (a big trigger for me), overstimulation, stress, and loneliness, it all added up. There were times when I couldn’t get out of my hostel bunk bed for days.
Since starting medication, I still have low days, but they feel less overwhelming. I try to plan rest days in advance, where I give myself permission to do absolutely nothing. My partner, who doesn’t have a mental health condition, enjoys those days too.
Planning ahead, rather than winging it like many backpackers do, has made a huge difference for me. Knowing where I’m sleeping, how I’m getting there, and what the next few days look like brings a sense of calm. Sure, things still go wrong, but having a base plan reduces a lot of unnecessary stress. I’m also incredibly lucky to have a partner who understands what’s going on and is patient with me. If I feel myself slipping, he gives me space and holds his own boundaries, which is just as important.
Coping Tools That Actually Help
- Routines, even while traveling. Having a few predictable parts of your day helps a lot.
- Journaling, which helps me track my moods and recognise patterns.
- Movement/exercise, even just a walk or stretching in a dorm room.
- Boundaries, especially with travel companions.
- A safety net: my partner, family I can call, and a therapist I can message when needed.
- Learning when to push through and when to slow down. I’m starting to better recognise when something is a symptom and when it’s okay to gently challenge myself.
Letting Go of the ‘Perfect Traveler’ Pressure
This overlaps a bit with travel fatigue, which I’ve written about before. You’re not always going to be up for that sunrise hike or 12-hour bus ride, and that’s okay.
There’s this guilt that creeps in when you “waste” a day in bed instead of exploring. But I’ve been working on reframing that mindset. Travel doesn’t have to mean checking everything off a bucket list. Sometimes, the most meaningful part of the journey is learning how to care for yourself in new environments.
Traveling has made me more resilient and adaptable, especially with bipolar in mind. I’ve learned practical skills along the way that actually help me manage my mental health better, more so than if I’d stayed home.
Final Thoughts
If you’re living with a mental health condition and want to travel long-term, know that it is possible. It might look different. You might need to plan more, rest more, or say no more often. But different doesn’t mean worse.
In fact, for me, traveling has helped me understand my bipolar disorder better than staying in one place ever did.
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