How to Avoid Bipolar Burnout

I’ve learned through experience that it’s important to watch for signs of burnout and take the time to relax and refuel before we’re “running on empty.”

Extreme Exercise to Cope with Bipolar

I used to be a runner. Not a two-miles-schlepping-around-the-neighborhood jogger, but an obsessed, it-doesn’t-matter-how-burning/freezing/early/late/rough/windy/far-it-is runner. Never very fast, I still achieved a level of fitness and stamina whereby I could run for hours on end. I’ve run on high rocky mountain trails at midday, on soft ocean beaches at sunrise, and through the snow-covered desert at dusk. Running long distances while engrossed by nature helped me cope with bipolar disorder for years.

So it was hard to know when to back off. Until at last, during the 26.2-mile Phoenix Rock ’n’ Roll Marathon years ago, my knee, back, and hip finally screamed, “Don’t know about you, Beth, but we are done.” I finished the race, but limping, hurting, and at six and a half hours. Not the way I’d hoped, and planned. It took me weeks to recover from the fatigue alone, and in the years since, my body has not permitted me to run again.

Internal Energy & Bipolar

I am a go-get-’em kind of person, not just in running, but in most things in my life—clearly almost to a fault. Having bipolar adds to my drive in that I feel the need to always be productive, to kind of prove to myself (and to everybody else) that I am mentally strong. It is really difficult for me to understand or accept when it’s time to just slow down. I tend to put on a hair shirt of guilt when I find that I am feeling overwhelmed or fatigued. The result is that I can end up a real wreck of a self-beleaguered and just plain-ol’-worn-out person on the edge of one heck of a mood shift.

Stress & Triggers

I’ve had a lot going on recently, from renewed art-making to getting in the groove of my husband’s new job; from a new editing gig to physical therapy from an unfortunate and traumatic incident this spring. I’ve been writing. I am supporting my aging dogs and dealing emotionally with my changing relationship with my aging parents. There’s some legal stuff going on in my life that is pretty stressful. I’m catching up on doctor visits now that I have insurance.

With all this and more to deal with, my brain got over-full. I noticed I was having trouble remembering even the smallest things—more than just where I had set my keys or glasses. It seemed like I couldn’t take in any more information whatsoever. Of crucial importance, I felt like I was on the brink of depression: colors around me dulled, sounds muffled, my reactions slowed, and feelings blunted.

Recognizing Early-Warning Signs of a Mood Episode

Just like with running, my body—in this case, my brain—was putting me on notice: “Beth, don’t know about you, but I’m getting pretty close to being done here. Got. To. Stop.”

Having just a bit more hard-won wisdom these days, and certainly not wanting to end up like I did with running, I knew I had to take action. Guilt or no guilt, stick a fork in me, I agreed to be done.

Here’s where the go-get-’em personality can feel like it’s doing something good for a change, and the “project” to be attacked is simple: Rest my brain. Do the minimum.

Taking Proactive Measures to Prevent Burnout

I put away the computer, the books, the art, the issues—everything but the daily necessities of life. I designated myself the boss and made a conscious choice to only do what keeps my head calm, resting, basic. I explained it to my support team.

And then I slowly started reintroducing things as they appealed to me. This gave my brain time to get rid of the clutter, fatigue, and overwhelming feelings that otherwise could lead to more severe bipolar symptoms. Conscious efforts at resting gave me a sense of control, choice, coping, and stability.

Unlike what I did to my body with running, before. Back then, I didn’t learn to rest until it was likely too late. Fortunately, now I can still walk, hike, swim, camp, and embrace the outdoors in active—but not overly active—ways.

Lately, I go out for tranquil walks with dogs, and I look around and bask in nature’s beauty. I nap. I read rather bad fiction. I look at art for fun. I laugh.

And as my brain rests and recovers, I am no longer running on empty.

Printed as “On Second Thought: Running on Empty,” Fall 2014