The other day, I went for a walk with a friend. We climbed to the top of a hill where we could see the blue sky surrounding the downtown core and the mountains in the distance. I felt gratitude for the cool fresh air in my lungs and the beautiful expanse. You would think I would do this on my own all the time because it makes me feel good, but I don’t.

I have a confession to make. I really enjoy activities that are sedentary. I like to write, play solitaire, watch Netflix and sports. I am not one of those people who wake up early to jog or swim laps. I am more of a wake up late and remain in a cognitive fog until the afternoon kind of guy. I regularly go for walks with friends but rarely on my own. As a result, I can end up staying home wasting time on less meaningful activities which results in me feeling guilty and lethargic.

One of my challenges is I, like many people who have bipolar disorder, have ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder). People with ADHD have a problem with something called, “Task Initiation.” We struggle when a task requires the completion of multiple steps. A person without ADHD could decide to go for a walk and just leave. If you have ADHD, your thoughts will be like this: “What to wear? Where to go? Runners? Weather? Clothes? Should I leave now? Music? No Music? What time is it? Do I have time? Weather? Do I have time? Clothes? Runners? Jacket? Imagine having all these thoughts without any meaningful division or sequence. It is overwhelming and discouraging.

The other issue is my bipolar disorder makes me feel tired. My medication is sedating, and my version of the illness lowers my energy level. My body is constantly telling me it just wants to rest, and I battle with the urge to remain on the couch all day every day.

To combat these issues, I have decided to try a new strategy to help me go on walks on my own. I have prepared a comprehensive list of every minute step required to leave to go for a walk on my own and I have scheduled it on my calendar. I have downloaded a playlist on my phone that will make my walk on my own more enjoyable. I hope all of this will inspire me to create a positive loop where exercise improves my ADHD symptoms making Task Initiation less of a challenge.

I would describe myself as an extroverted introvert. I need my alone time and I need my not alone time. Most of the laughter and energetic spark in my life comes from interactions with people. Due to the isolation in my life because of Covid-19, I have not been able to do my volunteer job, play badminton, and go to coffee shops which has been hard on me.

Several weeks ago, I told my psychiatrist I felt terrible and I thought I might be having a depressive episode. After doing her assessment, she said that it was not a depressive episode, but stress caused by the isolation. The best solution we could come up with was teaching myself to crochet to promote a more positive state of mind and distract myself.

The first thing I tried to make was a hat. I spent more time untangling the yarn and unravelling all the stiches because of mistakes I made than making the hat. I felt like breaking my little wooden crochet hook in half and throwing it off my balcony. Then, I made mittens. I think the designers of the pattern live close to the equator because it had so many big holes that they offered little protection from the cold we experience in Canada.

Then, I received a request from a friend for a crocheted infinity scarf. I looked it up on YouTube and it looked like a scarf that is in a ring. I followed the instructions on the video, and when I was done my ring, it had a twist in it. I thought that was the reason it was called an infinity scarf. I found out infinity scarves do not have twists, so I undid the whole thing and remade it. When I saw my psychiatrist, she told me an infinite scarf with a twist is a mobius scarf. I wish I had known that before I took it apart.

I have continued to crochet despite the stress it causes me at times. Recently, I was making a scarf and I realized that it has a value beyond mindfulness and the satisfaction of creating something new. When I make something for someone, the care I put into making it is an extension of my feelings for them. This experience makes me feel connected to the people I love and reminds me that we are all still together even though our opportunities to occupy the same physical space have become limited.

This blog was published by the International Bipolar Foundation a couple of years ago. The meetings that I describe in this blog have gone online now because of Covid-19 but they have been just as powerful as they were when we met in person.

By: Allan G. Cooper

“Psychiatrists can tell you about the ocean by reading about it and seeing it in their practice but we know what it’s like to be in the water”.

This is how my co-worker Ray explains peer support. We work for an agency called OBAD, the Organization for Bipolar Affective Disorder, in Calgary, Canada. We facilitate drop in peer support groups for people with the illness.

When I went to my first meeting, I was experiencing another crippling depressive episode. My connection to life seemed to be fading away and I was on the verge of losing my job. I only had enough energy to barely feed myself and lie in bed obsessing about suicide.

I called the distress centre line in Calgary and they put me through to the Mental Health Mobile Response Team. They came to my home to meet me and they suggested I go to an OBAD meeting.

I could barely find the energy to walk and forming a sentence in a social setting seemed impossible. I hated support groups. I felt like they just confirmed the fact that I was different from everyone else. But, I had become hopeless and I was desperate to find anything to make the pain stop.

At my first meeting, I sat with my head down avoiding eye contact with everyone. Partially because I can be shy around new people but mostly because I was just exhausted.

When the meeting started I was surprised that the facilitators also had bipolar. As we went around the room, people talked about whatever they felt like including suicide, psychosis or sometimes they just talked about their day.

When it was my turn, I was nervous at first but one of the facilitators gently coaxed me into sharing with the group. Reluctantly, I began to talk about my life and that is when I first experienced the magic of peer support.

I told them about my suicidal thoughts and my shame for having them along with the perception that I was a coward because I couldn’t do it. I told them that I was afraid of losing my job, my friends and financial stability. Everyone nodded in understanding as I spoke.

When people said words of encouragement to me they started with, “when I was going through …”. Everyone, including the facilitators, talked from the perspective of their own personal experiences. It was like opening a can of instant hope.

Sometimes, when people who don’t have bipolar ask me about our meetings they find it confusing.

“So, do you guys have topics?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have coffee and snacks?”

“Nope”.

“Do you have a list of rules on the board and write down goals?”

“Nope”.

“I don’t get it. What’s the point?”

The fact that they don’t get it is precisely the point. When you attend an OBAD meeting you can relax and take off the costume of pretending to be perfectly fine. You can be in a severe depressive episode and not be able to say a word and the group will genuinely congratulate you for making it to the meeting.

If you are hypomanic and babble on and on, the group may help you by dropping hints or sharing stories of the damage that hypomania can do to your life. Or, we just listen and when you come down from the high there is no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed because we all understand.

After I started to attend meetings regularly my life started to turn in a positive direction. I did not lose my job and I was able to achieve a lengthy period of stability after that first meeting.

The shame I had of having the illness dissipated and the tips I learned from the facilitators and other members of the group proved to be invaluable.

Seven years ago, I became one of the facilitators of the group. I have had the privilege of seeing the progress of people’s recovery first hand. The day someone is able to smile after an extended period of suffering is special to me. They are usually not aware of the change because the transition is so gradual but it is a distinct moment for me.

If you have bipolar disorder even though it may feel like it at times you are not alone. You share a special connection to some of the most extraordinary people in the world. We are in this together and with the help of our peers we can stay well and find joy in our lives despite the suffering.