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.

Imagine walking down the road and as you stroll past one block you have a career, a spouse, money, and friends and then by the end of the second block you have none of these things. In their place, you receive the ire of people who are angry, afraid, or frustrated with you. This example is similar to what some people with bipolar disorder may experience within a couple of months.

A severe depressive episode can leave you unable to perform your duties at work causing loss of employment, resulting in financial problems that lead to trouble in your marriage ultimately ending your relationship.  A manic episode might cause you to overspend, have an affair, or your colleagues and friends may become fearful of you because of your psychosis. This can all lead to a loss of relationships with friends, colleagues, family members and spouses and all your life savings.

After my last manic episode, I had this level of loss. It had been the third time it had happened to me. I felt done with life. It seemed like no matter how hard I tried bipolar disorder would never allow me to be happy. I had lost my job, moved to a small town where I did not know anyone, spent all my money and alienated myself from my friends. The depressive episode that followed was so debilitating I rarely got out of bed and my appetite was so poor that I only ate one sausage roll and a glass of orange juice on the good days. Some days, I did not eat at all.

To rebuild my life I received a lot of support from my family. They ensured I had my basic needs met and called me regularly to offer support and encouragement. In addition, I started going to a peer support group that I used to attend regularly at an organization called OBAD. I felt embarrassed that I was manic and extremely obnoxious at the last meeting I went to but when I saw my peers again it was a relief. People were happy to see me and my peers perception of Allan had not been tainted by the symptoms of bipolar disorder.

With the support of the group I was able to gain the emotional resiliency and confidence to move back to Calgary. It was nice to be back in my hometown. I reconnected with friends and being in the city offered me more opportunities to build a healthy routine.

My psychiatrist recommended I look for a volunteer job. When I was a child my grandmother used to bring me to a centre for seniors to have lunch and play badminton called the Kerby Centre. I decided to volunteer there in the Information Department and Volunteer Department. The positions provide structure to my week, a sense of fulfillment and interacting with the appreciative staff creates a positive energy that contributes to my wellness.

I became a facilitator for the meeting at OBAD in 2012. It is amazing to be involved in the recovery of so many extraordinary people and I still learn things from the meetings that I can apply to my own life. It has been my experience that people with bipolar disorder are compassionate, creative and they have an insightful perspective on life. I am grateful for the honor and privilege of working with my peers.

Rebuilding your life after the devastation of an acute episode can seem impossible. Peer support can help because you meet people who have done it which can give you hope. It is an awful and lengthy process that requires self compassion, determination and supports from the ones we love. In the end, it leaves us grateful for a life of stability that includes moments of joy.

Recently, I was hiking with some friends and as we walk through a portion of the trail where pure white snow draped the trees that lined the path, I was in awe of being engulfed in the beauty that surrounded me. It made me reflect on my life and I felt a sense of gratitude that I was able to experience the pleasure of being in nature. There was a time in my life when I believed that a day like that could not happen.

My last manic episode was in 2010. Once it was over, I had spent all my money, lost my job, and several friends. The depressive episode that followed was so debilitating that I spent most of my days in bed with terrible physical pain and horrible negative thoughts bombarded my brain. I was exhausted and I was hardly eating anything. It was the third time that this had happened to me and I could not imagine ever having any kind of existence that was not clouded in misery.

What I have learned since then is that even though you cannot think of a solution to your problems it does not mean that a solution does not exist. I received a great deal of support from my family which kept me going but there were also things that happened that I could not have predicted that helped me get my life back together again.

One day, I was talking to a healthcare professional and he disclosed to me that he had bipolar disorder. I had become so stuck that learning that this person also had bipolar disorder and he had a positive life made me feel better. It gave me a little added strength to carry on.

Around the same time, I ran into a facilitator of a peer support group I used to attend regularly at an organization called OBAD. She encouraged me to come back to the group. Attending the group empowered me to rebuild my life slowly and methodically. In 2012, I became one of the facilitators of the group.

Life is unpredictable. If we continue to do our best and we are open to accepting the support of others there is always hope that things can get better. Now that I have been through these trying times when I experience a beautiful moment it is a little sweeter because I know what it feels like to believe that such a day is an impossibility.