In Until One Sunday We Didn't words and images are connected on black and white pages illustrating my personal experiences of growing up with a father who becomes a different person from one day to the next.
You see my father is bipolar. And this book is as much about him as it is about me dealing with his condition.
When I thought about working on a book, I quickly gravitated towards my father (and his bipolar disorder) as the subject. Something I never used to speak so openly about with anyone.
Especially when I was younger, having a father who was 'different' made me feel ashamed. I was always trying to hide the fact that there was something out of the ordinary happening in our home. When my friends came over, I directed them up to my room as soon as possible, where we would play on my Nintendo64. From time to time I would go downstairs by myself to fetch lemonade and snacks in order to avoid having my friends run into Bob who was probably already drunk.
Making this book was a form of therapy for me, drawing out my feelings. Using simple black and white illustrations, I found out that almost every memory I have of him is stained with his condition, yet not any less valuable.
