For over 30 years, I’ve been navigating life with bipolar disorder. It’s been a long road of ups, downs, and everything in between, but I always believed that learning was the key to a more fulfilling life. Learning how to manage my emotions, learning to spot the warning signs of a manic episode, learning how to rebuild relationships after a period of deep depression—this was my toolkit for survival.
Recently, though, I read a single statement that shook me to my core: “Progress requires unlearning.” It was an unexpected paradigm shift from the most surprising place.
I’ve dedicated myself to learning how to live with bipolar disorder—finding coping mechanisms, therapy techniques, medications, and lifestyle changes. I’ve poured my energy into adding more tools to my mental health toolbox, believing that progress was all about adding new skills to my arsenal. But this statement made me realise that while learning is essential, there’s an equally important side of the equation—unlearning.
The truth is, I’ve been carrying around a lot of mental baggage that’s no longer serving me. Old habits, unhelpful thought processes, and deeply ingrained beliefs have kept me stuck. Some of these are things I didn’t even realise were holding me back until I stopped and looked at them with fresh eyes.
For example, one of the hardest lessons I have to unlearn is the belief that my worth is tied to my productivity. Living with bipolar often means fluctuating between high-energy, hyper-productive periods and low-energy slumps where it feels like getting out of bed is an achievement. For the longest time, I measured my value based on how much I could do in a day, becoming a human doing as opposed to a human being. When manic, I am on top of the world, invincible. But when depressed, I see myself as lazy, useless, and incapable. That narrative has become so ingrained in me that even when I am stable, I constantly push myself to do more, as though resting meant I was failing.
Unlearning this will be painful. Every day, it will require a conscious effort to remind myself that I’m allowed to rest. I need to rest. My value as a person isn’t tied to my ability to check things off a to-do list. Identifying a need to unlearn this mindset has been liberating. Still, it’s also unsettling because I’m challenging something I’ve believed for decades.
Another habit I identified as needing to unlearn is the tendency to catastrophise. Bipolar often brings with it racing thoughts and a heightened sense of anxiety, which can turn minor setbacks into full-blown crises in my mind. A late reply to a text becomes the end of a friendship. A mistake at work turns into the fear of losing my job. I have always thought this was just a part of who I was—an overthinker. However, rewiring the way I respond to challenges is now on my list. Unlearning the habit of jumping to worst-case scenarios, focusing instead on pausing, breathing, and reminding myself to look at the situation with more balanced eyes. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary for my peace of mind.
In many ways, I find unlearning to be more challenging than learning. It takes effort and courage to chisel away at the foundations of how I’ve understood myself and the world for most of my life. It’s confronting, and sometimes, I want to retreat back into the safety of old habits, even if they don’t serve me. But with each layer I unlearn, I feel a little lighter and free.
What’s become clear to me is that progress is a messy, complicated journey. That is without adding Bipolar into the mix. Living with Bipolar is not just about adding new skills, medication or knowledge but also about letting go of the things that no longer serve us. The things that hold us back, whether they’re old beliefs, harmful behaviours, or ingrained habits.
So, my fellow bipolarians, from today, I’m choosing to focus not just on what I can learn but on what I can unlearn. And if you’re reading this and you’ve been feeling stuck, maybe it’s time to look at what you need to unlearn, too.
Because sometimes, the only way forward is to let go.