I used to pursue many simple activities that brought me pleasure and made my life interesting and engaging, at least to me. Bipolar disorder has robbed me of these interests. I resent that. In fact, I am angry about it. It makes me seem like a victim and I am not a victim. I may have a incurable disorder but I still have a life. I do not want the days to slip by, leaving a barren landscape, nothing to look back upon when I am old and dying, which is how the last 11+ years have felt. So this post is about identifying those pursuits that are important to me and that might be feasible to reclaim at this point in my life. Then I will try to figure out how I can reclaim them, at least from time to time.
This post is also about taking control–I am fed up with saying “I used to . . . “. Time for a change of verb to–”do”: yesterday I did; today I am doing; tomorrow I will do.
So what are these cherished activities that I hope to pursue again? They are reading, walking, having music in my home, attending the arts, and travelling.
When I was engaged in these activities before my diagnosis, they bestowed many blessings upon me. They soothed and refreshed my spirit. They awakened my imagination, took me to other worlds, and helped me to understand my own world better. I was introduced to unfamiliar perspectives, values, ways of doing things, all of which challenged my complacency and forced me to struggle with my preconceptions. None of these activities left me unchanged. That is what I have been aching for: My days are much of a sameness; I want to be shaken up, and by something other than ECT.
Although I was unable to read for several years after my diagnosis and at various times in more recent years, I have gradually regained the capacity to read. In fact, perhaps now I am reading too much, reading instead of doing something else, specifically something more active.
The four other activities, however, have been virtually absent from my life during the last 11+ years, for plausible reasons: Walking–I often feel unable to leave my home, so I have become not only sedentary, but find myself in an unfamiliar body, one that is overweight, arthritic, asthmatic. Having music in my home–For some unknown reason, I just stopped playing my CDs, although I used to play them all the time, I loved being immersed in different kinds of music, whatever else I was doing. Attending the arts–I no longer attend the theatre, the ballet, the opera or the symphony because: (a) I now find it arduous to drive at night; (b) I end up taking my medications much later than usual and this upsets my sleeping pattern; (c) It is difficult to find someone to go with. Travelling–I doubt I will ever have the required energy and confidence to travel again, plus I fear having a severe depressive or a hypomanic episode while I am away on my own in a place without familiar resources. And there is the pragmatic reason that I cannot afford it.
This analysis has given me a couple of ideas of how I might begin to overcome these obstacles. I think the place to start is with walking. I feel ready to start walking again. I live in a beautiful part of the country with groomed walking trails galore, two literally on my doorstep. So starting a walking program should be easy. But I see two main barriers. The first is to accept that I will not be able to walk as I used to, at least not right away, because of the changes in my body that I have described above. The second is simply to find the impetus to get started. At the moment I am determined to begin a walking program. Alas, I have been determined about things before and not followed through on them. Perhaps I can try something like a walking date, once a week–I hate letting anyone down, so I would try my best to meet my walking partner. Having a coffee date to get me out of my condo at least once a week has worked very well, so there is hope that a walking date will be as successful.
I have already taken one step to re-introducing a former activity. I simply moved my sound system and my CDs to a more accessible place. Suddenly my home is once again filled with music. What a treat.
With respect to the other two activities, I think that all that is needed is a flipping of perspective. Who says I have to go to a symphony/theatre/opera/ballet performance at night, and with someone? I can go to a matinee, and I can go by myself if necessary. It would be such a treat. I have to accept that I will never visit Africa or Asia, but I can explore the beautiful city in which I live–another treat. And having lived with, and continuing to live with, treatment-resistant bipolar disorder, I think I deserve to treat myself as often as I can and in as many ways as I can.
I know that the plan I am proposing for myself is not a panacea and that it will not be easy to implement. I know there will be periods, perhaps long periods, when I will not be able to engage in these activities. But reminding myself of those things that once lit up my life–those things I used to do–and imagining how to do them again, even if in a changed form, has given me a little surge of excitement. I am no victim. I am reclaiming my life.
Confronting Bipolar Disorder 