Walking the Walk: A 15 Month journey towards Mental Wellness
This is a special year for mental health. More than ever, each of us may be faced with the impacts of isolation, economic struggle, and fear. It may be the most difficult year for mental health across the globe we’ll ever see in our lifetime.
So as part of the conversation, I thought I’d share a piece of my story.
Backstory
After a diagnosis in 2009, I had worked hard to manage my mental health. Living with bipolar is a rollercoaster, and I have been dead-set on learning to ride the waves with grace. I’ll save the back story from 2009 through 2017 for another time, but by this time let’s say I was stable in my career with a toolkit of things keeping my health in check. The right medication mix, monitoring, bi-weekly check ins with my doctor and a strong set of insights on how to manage my health. I was becoming an expert — or so I thought.
In my life, I’ve always felt supported. The love of family and friends was never something I had to fight for, and I would consider that the bedrock of my well-being. But somewhere during the first 5 years of my career I started placing finances above health. I was justifying struggles because they were good for my wallet, and finding vices to numb the pain I endured along the way.
My struggle for mental wellness was distracted by my career focus, and when work was getting me down I turned to my pizza addiction. By 2019 I was nearly 250 lbs, 60lbs heavier than when I competed in a boxing match only 5 years earlier. I couldn’t bend over to tie my shoes without leaning sideways to avoid my belly, and I had to hold my breath to pull it off. I couldn’t climb a hill without getting dizzy and panting like I’d run a marathon. None of my XL clothes fit anymore. I was ashamed of this manifestation of unhealth behaviour, and my energy was at rock bottom.
This physical discomfort was a symptom of my struggle, but soon it became part of the cause. I could escape the city for a canoe trip in Algonquin, where I could normally recharge. But I couldn’t escape the sore feet that came from lugging around 60lbs of extra weight. It was a constant reminder that something was wrong, and no amount of beer, gin or fresh air could shake it. I joined gyms, but never showed up consistently. Momentum in my fitness would be countered by emotional eating on a rough day. It was a teeter totter of failed discipline, and I was at a loss for how to resolve it in my current situation.
Walk the walk
While living through this struggle, I booked a ticket to an upcoming “Mental Health Symposium”. One of the speakers was Margaret Trudeau, and I was excited to hear her story first hand. The bipolar wife of on Canadian Prime Minister, and Mother of another. Margaret was wonderful to hear, bold and vulnerable as I’d expected. We spoke and hugged after her presentation, her message to me was to “Watch out for the highs”. A lesson I had learned well in the past.
There was another speaker that struck me. Sheldon Kennedy was an ex-NHL player who spoke openly and honestly about his mental health journey — from sexual abuse by a past coach, to the addiction that followed to help numb his pain. Here was a classic Canadian man, a picture of masculinity and toughness, being vulnerable on stage about his struggles. He shattered the stereotype, one that may have unconsciously been impacting my own behaviour. This was a man I needed to learn from.
After his speech, I approached him to ask how I could help others with what I have learned through my journey. His direct response? “Walk the Walk”. He took one look at me and knew I had not been taking care of myself. He explained that you can’t be a role model to anyone by just speaking to what you should do, you need to do it. That’s the real work, the hardest part, and the most impactful for people. Be your best self, and the rest will follow.
He shook my world. Here I thought I was an expert, in a position to advise. All it took was some direct advice to acknowledge how right he was. While I had been “stable” for over 6 years, some things needed to change for me in a big way before I would be thriving.
I resolved to make a change, a drastic one.
Setting Sail
After some reflecting on my trial and errors, I resolved that I wasn’t strong enough to make the required changes in behaviour in the environment I was in. There were too many bad habits tied to my life in the city, and I was not succeeding at unwinding them. Past experience had shown me that an environmental change was a useful catalyst to build new habits around — I had a very successful re-build year in Victoria in 2013, so I had a playbook.
I was fortunate to have some savings and the income to stash away savings over the coming year. With my costs as low as possible, I saved enough to fund an 8–12 month trip in a low-cost destination. The time had come. It was scarier than I thought it would be — and I mourned leaving the life I’d built in Toronto. In many ways, a life I loved despite the struggles.
I sought out a destination that would allow my dream day — tropical, allowing both scuba diving and a martial art training in an outdoor gym in the same day. After debates between Indonesia, Brazil and Thailand, an island in Thailand known for it’s monthly full moon parties checked all the boxes. Despite it’s reputation for partying, there was an excellent gym called Diamond Muay Thai, world class scuba diving in the Gulf of Thailand, and a laid back island life with all the ease of a well-travelled destination. Here, I could focus on myself.
In Sept. 2019, I left my house and my career behind. I set sail to “walk the walk”.
Confusing a journey with a vacation
The start of this trip was a trip to Newfoundland with my father, where we had time to explore Canada and spend some really quality time. Just the two of us, touring the “Ireland” of Canada. It was healing for both of us, and a priceless bonding experience.
From here, I jumped to Europe for a close friends wedding in Lisbon, Portugal. This is how I looked at an outdoor adventure we had in the Azores:
In Lisbon, I was fully in “Vacation mode”, although the fact that I should be getting healthy was paying rent in my head for the entire time. I should have been taking care of myself, and I did the opposite . We partied so hard in Lisbon that my health took a turn for the worse — I was having trouble sleeping. This is a classic danger sign for me, and it can slide downhill quickly if my brain doesn’t get rest. There’s a direct correlation between my decisions to party with friends, and this result. Alcohol, drugs, lack of sleep. I was not walking the walk. It wasn’t even a crawl.
I was now hypomanic. This is a stage that preludes mania, and a dangerous place for someone that lives with bipolar disorder. It feels good, it’s matched with spikes in neural activity and that feel-good chemical dopamine. I would describe it as the high you might get from a narcotic like cocaine, but sustained over a period of days, weeks and even months. I wrote beautiful poems, had endless ideas, and was putting my health at serious risk.
Thankfully, my wonderful partner Carley was with me on this stage of the journey. She helped me sleep, watched over me, and saved me from myself. I attended the wedding with a limp, after falling from a roof top onto an alcove days prior. I had sobered up, cognizant of how far overboard I had just gone. My friends from university may be able to party like this without such dire consequences, but I cannot.
Following the wedding, the bridal party was celebrating Oktoberfest in Munich. This was the mecha of day drinking, and I elected to be sober for every minute of it. I knew that hypomania was a slippery slope, and I wasn’t about to visit a German psych ward with a full blown manic episode. Sobriety and rest was what my brain needed, and I delivered it. While my friends steins were filled with lagers, mine was filled with sparkling apple juice. Our pregnant friend was glad to have a partner in crime. This was closer to walking the walk. Only with a slight limp from falling off a roof the week before.
Finding my stride
We travelled south from Munich to small town Austria, where Carley’s extended family ran a boutique hotel. They were hosts extraordinaire, a godsend you might say. It was a healing week for me, a chance to forgive myself, spend time outside, and reset. This mistake would not derail my mission. Carley was back to work in Canada after a day of visiting, but I stayed on an extra week. This family cared for me, hosting me at no cost for a beautiful room and meals. I was supported for the basics while I explored the alps, gently accepting that while I had taken a misstep, I had also recovered. And that was something to be grateful for. Guitar, journalling, hikes and cold water were all parts of the recovery cocktail.
From Austria, I visited friends in Budapest and Turkey before heading to the Thai island to get to work. Frankly, I was nervous. It was two months in, late October of 2019, and I had a ton of work to do to rewire myself.
My first week in Thailand was pure grit. I had no mobility, no cardio, and no skills. It actually took me 2 days in Muay Thai camp before I had the courage to join a class, although I could hear them training not 30 ft from my hut. I had trouble finding shorts to train in that fit around my waist. This camp was filled with Muay Thai fighters from around the world, and here I was twice their weight and sweating profusely. My female Thai friend would joke, asking if I needed to borrow her bra (Fat shaming is fair game in Thai culture…)
Daily Muay Thai & yoga for 5 days had me feeling proud. Despite the progress, more roadblocks were inevitable. On day 6, my “trick knee” was fed up. The cartilage got caught in my knee joint while I was stretching after class, and it was matched with muscle spasms. I was on the mat for 90 minutes trying to calm my muscles while a new Canadian friend helped me troubleshoot how I could get up and walk out before the next class started.
It was a major problem, the worst my knee had ever reacted. I had tried to jump in the deep end, and my body was revolting. I was out of training for 2 weeks, and learned the true meaning of the Thai phrase “Slowly slowly”. Icing my knee, peeing in a bottle in my room. Friends delivered food to my hut. I was deflated, but not defeated. The resolve was real — here’s an excerpt from my journal:
“Day by day, I’ll feel stronger. Stand taller. Improved mobility, habits of hydration and healthy meals. I’ll stand tall as a strong and fit young man.” — While lying injured in my hut, Nov 6, 2019.
Slowly, I nursed it back. I biked and stretched religiously every day, joining for part of class, and always stopping at the first sign of pain/instability. People around the gym helped, with massages from my friend Christina, physio exercises from Eric, and custom pad holding to accommodate my injuries from the trainers. From mid November through mid January, my daily routine helped me cut nearly 35 lbs. My joints were under less stress. I could touch my toes easily, no longer a slave of my own weight. My brother was inspired to join me for a month of training, as we battled together for mental wellness.
By the end, I was doing yoga, mobility, snorkelling and Muay Thai on a daily basis. To improve my nutrition, I leveraged intermittent fasting which helped to avoid late night eating and encourage fasted workouts. By January, I was a new man. My body felt 10 years younger. Leaving the island, after my last mobility workout in an abandoned resort-turned-gym, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. And pride. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I zoomed under the palm trees on the road home, an end was coming to one of the healthiest stints of my life.
Exploring Asia, 40lbs Lighter
I left the Island to explore more of Thailand, attend a conference for digital nomads and a week of trekking in Laos, now that I had solid momentum on my wellness journey. My last week in Thailand was, in classic fashion, spent at a meditation retreat. Thai monks guided me through a week of silent meditation. I realized then just how at peace I now was. It was pure bliss, a silent introspection focused on being in the moment. We washed the dishes after meals on a mountaintop balcony. From here, I watched a papaya ripen, noticing it every day until it ripened and fell.
Perhaps that Papaya was the perfect metaphor for my state of mindfullness. When was the last time I’d observed a wild fruit ripen? Not a single time.
This was new territory. I had hit my stride, and the limp was gone.
I was finally light enough to do the trekking and adventures I was drawn to, so I toured northern Thailand & Laos to explore the mountains and rivers. I trekked through villages, kayaked through rivers, and lived the adventurous lifestyle I was built for. My knees, feet and hips were pain free, and my energy was sky high.
I felt free.
Cape Town, South Africa
Soon the time came to leave Asia. My partner Carley was starting her Masters of Public Health in Cape Town, and I was joining her for a few months to explore Southern Africa. Little did I know that 6 weeks later, the country would have a military enforced lockdown in response to a pandemic that was spreading through the western world like wildfire.
By this point, I had overcome a major hurdle in my wellness. Practicing Yoga was no longer painful. In fact, I was starting to enjoy it. My joints, fascia and muscles had come along way since October, and I was excited to show my Partner of 7 years that I no longer despised one of the things she held dear.
Anticipating the lockdown, we sought refuge in the countryside at a lodge called “Wild Spirit”, in the mountains by the sea 500km east of Cape Town. While most travellers scrambled to get back home, we settled in. Canada was raging with the virus at the time, and we had just left our jobs & apartment behind. Our adventure in South Africa was just beginning.
We stayed in a tent for the next 4 months at Wild Spirt, sharing a 45 acre farm with people from 11 other countries. We built a community, spending 100% of our days outside, protected from the baboons by a pack of badass dogs. During this time I learned to run again, for the first time in 5 years my joints could handle my weight. We did yoga, biked and eventually got out to the beach for sprints & long runs by the sea.
By the end of June, Carley had completed the first semester of her Masters. In parallel, we had scoped out an old ’88 VW van to convert into a home on wheels. We got to work converting it, supported by two exceptionally practical and helpful locals. Earle, who ran the backpackers had a shop, and Mark a one of a kind Zimbabwean man that handled maintenance at the lodge. After a month of grind we were ready to cruise up the coast of South Africa — our first stop the famous Surf break at Jeffreys Bay. Most of the tourism infrastructure was shut down, but van life allowed us to explore without restrictions.
We cruised through game reserves and parks, admiring the beauty and grace of Giraffes, Rhinos and Hippos. Our faulty heat gauge led to a cooked engine, and I spent 3 weeks finding a replacement and having it installed. It was right around this time that the alcohol ban in South Africa came to an end. With the stress of being broken down in a random town, sourcing an engine from Japan, and negotiating with racist mechanics I was glad to have a vice. I spent one too many days at the pub during this phase, and I’m cognizant of how boredom or stress triggers my turn for a drink to take the edge off. This was a big insight — oddly the first time I really took note, largely because of the months long ban on booze. I resolved to start aiming more for a reset (surfing) vs an escape (drinking).
Once the van was back on the road, Carley’s summer break had ended. We spent 7/8 weeks of her break building/fixing the van, but she took it in stride. Now back in school, she studied, and I surfed. Surfing was emerging as my newest tool, a sport that offered a mix of high adrenaline and serenity. Mobility over strength, patience over aggression. It demanded so many things I lacked, and I was loving the challenge. We camped along the coast, waking up to the waves and making coffee before each of us put in our work. Mine with the ocean, Carley studying infectious disease.
Over the coming months Carley completed the next semester of her masters while I repaired our engine, navigated, and tried my luck at 30 surf breaks along the coast. We toured 10,000KM’s — I cooked, she cleaned. We broke down, repaired, and met fascinating people along the way. South Africa may only be one country, but it is home to dozens of cultures and eight different biomes. This place was home to a diversity we had never experienced before, while still healing from an ugly apartheid past.
Along the way, we found ourselves near the border of Mozambique to do some scuba diving. I had lined up 5 days of diving, 3 days of wild camping & trekking in Kruger national park, and a 5 day trek on the otter trail.
As luck had it, that knee problem from Thailand was back with a vengeance. Except this time, it didn’t unlock. I couldn’t straighten my leg, and with it another page in my journey.
While things were going so smoothly, I was managing my health just fine. Outside all day, very active, low responsibility. But here I was, injured again. Prevented from doing the things that were bringing me so much joy. Once in a lifetime experiences. Cancelled, all of them. I was furious, and my first cane didn’t last a day before a snapped it over the top of the van. I’m not sure why after so much struggle in my life, I couldn’t handle this with grace. I was embarrassed at my behaviour in front of Carley, and nursed my frustration with beer. For a few weeks, I was enjoying 5+ drinks a day, seeking the escape I told myself to avoid. This is well above what I would describe as “walking the walk”. Once again, I was limping both literally and figuratively.
I came to terms with the situation after a few days, and focused on the bright side. Van life was starting to wear us down, so we called on our friend Kerry when we arrived in Johannesburg that had a spare granny flat she had offered us. We relaxed and recovered, did some exploring of Jo’burg.
We even had the chance to visit Trevor Noahs childhood neighbourhood, where we stopped in at his home and met his Grandmother and Aunts. His Grandma (“Gogo”) was a fan of my cane, and she wanted to swap! I felt like a new man walking around with my new cane, as I’m sure she did hers. She looked badass with it.
Following our tour of Johannesburg, Carley had to head home. I opted to stay on and surf for another month, as my knee was now operating at 70%, although I couldn’t straighten it. I joined a gym, stayed with friends, and spent a month in the water each morning, and at the gym each evening. It was healthy, but I was living with friends that were doing a little too much smoking and drinking. I was really grateful to have friends hosting me, but their habits were rubbing off on me in the evenings, despite my daytime discipline.
In the end, the pandemic life in South Africa cost me some gains. I put back on 20 lbs, sitting now at roughly 225. I was smoking on and off, and drinking too many beers. The biggest reason? Everyone around me was behaving that way. Once again I forget that the rules I need to live well are very different than others. My consequences may also be more severe.
Life is a game of two steps forward, one step back.
On my return home to Toronto, I was greeted by Carley with a Tim Hortons coffee. As burnt and familiar as ever, I was glad to be back in the great white north.
The Camp.
Returning to a pandemic Canada isn’t the typical homecoming. But slowly, at winter fires and distanced garage visits we got our time with family. My world view has changed, my body stronger and more flexible than ever. My nieces and nephews had grown a foot each since I left 15 months earlier. It was a shock to realize how long I’d been away.
The measure for my growth has often been our camp. A small hunting cabin in northern Ontario that my Grandparents built out slowly over decades. Today, it’s closer to being a cottage with electricity and a sundeck. But the rustic, no-cell-coverage charm is still there.
As an adult, the camp has evolved. I saw it different at each stage of life — when I returned after starting university, after my first time living abroad, after my diagnosis. But at age 32, I didn’t expect it to shift again. Alas, it did.
It was winter. We had to snowshoe in, as the road wasn’t plowed. We brought in water and wood for the week. The bathroom was 50 feet from the house, an outhouse in the bush. For summer this is fine, but for winter in -15? This was no luxury.
But after spending 4 months in a hut, 4 months in a tent, and 4 months in a van? This was perfect. In fact, it truly felt like luxury.
It was safe, there was no cell phones or tv’s. We had wood for heat, plenty of water in a jug. There was electricity and a full kitchen, no more cooking over a propane bottle like we had been in the van. We had our own bathroom! Sure, it was outside in -15, but it you always knew where to find it. It felt like a trip back in time, to what life would have been like as a settler from Europe. Making your way through the winter, focusing on the fundamentals.
And that was it. Less. I had lived away from cell service, television and running water for so long I started to appreciate these things as luxuries. A new appreciation for life back home, and perhaps a few lessons to build into our long term plans.
I was still walking with a little limp, but my mind was at ease.
Lessons Learned
Today, I write this note inside from the winter cold, icing my knee beside the fireplace 2 days after meniscus surgery on my “trick knee”. The blessing of universal health care allowed me to secure a speedy surgery, fixing the shredded cartilage that was causing troubles through my travels. With my physio in progress, Gogo’s cane is experiencing it’s first Canadian winter, and I’m well on my way to healing.
Day by day, I’m re-learning to walk. And it serves as a healthy reminder — that “walking the walk” is a lifelong journey. So today, with a smile on, I’m learning to walk once again.
Both figuratively and literally.
Along the way, here are a few lessons I’ve learned:
- You are the lesson — We all seek wisdom from others, it’s natural. What not enough people do, is seek wisdom from themselves. Every day you live is a treasure chest of lessons. Why did I react that way? What was behind that impulsive decision? Are my habits leading me astray right now? Take time to reflect regularly, daily if you can. These insights into your behaviour compound over time, and they are your greatest asset in your journey for mental wellness. We’re all far from perfect — so learn from it, and get closer every day.
- Put on your own mask first — You remember the safety message on an airplane, advising mothers to put their own oxygen mask on before helping their children? Do that. The journey to mental wellness is not one we take alone. It takes a tribe. Sometimes you stop to help someone up, other times you’re the one in need. It’s important that along this path, you check in with yourself. Is there a family members behaviour that’s causing you anxiety? Is a close friends drinking a bad influence on you? Have you been someone’s emotional dumping ground? Be sure you’re taking care of yourself as the priority, so you can be in the right place to help others.
- You are not your thoughts — A mistake we all make is identifying with our minds as “who we are”. This becomes particularly difficult when you, for example, “lose your mind” as I have once or twice. The modular theory of the mind helps explain how it’s our unconscious mind that is doing most of the thinking, and our conscious mind is really the public relations expert, handling communication with the outside. We don’t have direct control over our unconscious, and what steals our attention (you can test this by meditating, and observing the random thoughts that appear). The best tool to manage against this is mindfullness, recognizing and observing the flow of thoughts and emotions while focusing on the present, for example your breathing, a candle, or the sound of the waves.
- Watch your programming — Understanding that our unconscious minds are influencing (if not making) all of our decisions, we need to be careful with what we expose ourselves to. This is a challenge in a digital world, with every screen fighting for our attention. Take care to choose the media, television and social worlds you are exposed to carefully. They directly impact they way you think and lead your life, even if you are not aware of it. A good strategy to battle this? Find time without your cellphone or computer in your daily, weekly routine. If you can, unplug for an entire weekend. It will amaze you how liberating it can feel — and if it’s stressful for you, you have work to do.
- Money is not the answer — In fact, more of anything is not the answer. Money is a resource, and it creates options. You are the one that has to use the options to improve your wellness. The reality is, most of the keys to wellness are not expensive. Mediation? Free. Exercise? Free. Fresh air and sunshine? Free. You can obtain wealth by sacrificing your health, but you may find yourself spending that wealth to get your health back. We are nothing without our health, and there is nothing worth trading it for. Be mindful of your driving factors, and course correct if your compass is leading you to being more like the grinch, and less like yourself.
- Read more than one Page of the Book — In my life experience, there have been few more game changing experiences than those from exploring our planet. Not for the insta pics, and not for the food — although those are perks. Along the way, travel frees the mind. It’s a big world out there, and it’s hard to put this book of life in perspective if you only read one page. Getting out of our comfort zone can be extremely eye opening and therapeutic. Seeing how other people live around the world puts your own situation in perspective. There are lessons everywhere, don’t listen to the story that keeps you in one place if you’re suffering. On return, you might even see home with new eyes. That’s your new lens on the world, and a sign of growth.
- Choose a reset, not an escape — Tough times will come. Whether that is a tough moment, a tough day, or a tough year (*Cough, covid*). Don’t respond by seeking an escape, like a stiff drink. Seek a reset, like a cold shower, a run, or connecting with a close friend. Changing your state is the goal, but don’t debilitate your state by choosing to escape and gorging on carbs or beers. The small choices you make here will train your brain, so be mindful of these habits as they are no cake-walk to unwind.
With that, thanks for reading. Make 2021 the year that you walk your walk, and just drop me a line if you need to borrow my cane.
