World Bipolar Day is celebrated each year on March 30, the birthday of painter Vincent Van Gogh who is thought to have lived with a bipolar condition. To mark the occasion our books will be available to download free from March 29 through April 2. Details will be posted here on our blog on March 28. Check back, follow our social media, or subscribe to our blog so you don’t miss out.
The theme for World Bipolar Day 2026 is Bipolar Strong. I want to take the opportunity to explore what those words means to me as a friend and ally. I have no first-hand experience of living with a mental health condition. Everything I know about mental illness in general and bipolar disorder in particular is second-hand. It’s based on books I’ve read and courses I’ve taken, including Mental Health First Aid (MHFA) and Applied Suicide Intervention Skills Training (ASIST). Most of all it’s based on what I’ve learned from friends who know only too well what it means to live with illness. I would never presume to answer for them.
But I can answer for myself. My knowledge may be second-hand but it’s neither ignorant nor naive. I’ve been Fran’s best friend and primary support since 2011. Despite living on opposite sides of the Atlantic we’ve been in touch almost every day of those fifteen years. We talk for an hour or more every day. I’ve been at her side through episodes of debilitating depression, suicidal ideation, and the kite-high wildness of mania. We wrote a book from my perspective as a caring friend.
Our book’s title is simple and direct. High Tide, Low Tide: The Caring Friend’s Guide to Bipolar Disorder. It acknowledges the episodic nature of Fran’s symptoms and the tidal imagery she invokes to describe it. We explored many titles and subtitles before arriving at the final version. My Bipolar Best Friend and Me. How to Grow and Maintain a Rich Mutually Supportive Relationship When Your Loved One Is Bipolar. My Best Friend Is Bipolar. Used in this way bipolar may seem a convenient shorthand but it’s lazy. Fran lives with several health conditions, one of which has been diagnosed as bipolar disorder. She herself is not bipolar.
This raises an important point about language. Someone with lived experience can use any words they like to describe themself and their situation. Fran sometimes calls herself a bipolarist. Some proudly declare “I am bipolar” or “I am a bipolar.” Others reclaim otherwise pejorative labels such as mad, mental, or crazy. They have that right. As someone on the outside looking in, I do not. I’ll continue to write “someone who lives with bipolar disorder.” It may frustrate those who prefer more direct language but it’s intended respectfully. I’m aware I may be over-thinking this. As an outsider my agonising over labels is somewhat beside the point.
What’s not beside the point is what the word bipolar signifies. I may be an outsider but my best friend and several others I know and care about live with this condition. They share a diagnosis but bipolar disorder affects each of them differently. I know how depression and mania present for Fran but the symptoms and signs that herald these phases are different for other friends. The treatments and strategies that keep them as healthy and stable as possible also differ, as does the help and support I can offer them. I know these people as friends first. Bipolar disorder is an important and permanent aspect of their lives and reality. But it is not who they are.
What about people I scarcely know at all? What does the label of bipolar disorder tell me about them? A short while ago I became friends with someone recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I know very little about their life beyond what we’ve talked about in our few online conversations and what they share publicly. We’re at that fascinating stage where each exchange adds a little more to what we know of each other. What we look like. Where we reside. The usual getting to know you stuff. More importantly we’re learning what motivates, interests, and delights us. Similarities and differences. Knowing my friend’s diagnosis sets some of these facts in context but tells me little about who they are or how much the condition impacts them. I’m interested to learn more but I’ve no right to the information and it’s not my friend’s responsibility to educate me.
What I do feel safe inferring is that my friend has come through difficult times to arrive at a place which includes that diagnosis. Not least because mental illness in general and bipolar disorder in particular often go undiagnosed — or misdiagnosed — for years before an accurate diagnosis opens the possibility of relevant treatment, care, and support. It took ten years for Fran to be diagnosed with bipolar disorder after her initial diagnosis of major depression. As she recalls, “For ten years, I was up and down, as my meds would work and then not work.” I hope it didn’t take that long in the case of my new friend but whatever kept them going through the distress, fear, and confusion is what the strong in Bipolar Strong means to me.
I don’t know what the term means to my new friend [note to self: ask them] but Fran finds it confusing. She suggested it might reference “Boston Strong” which was coined by students at Emerson College after the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing. It symbolises the city’s strength and unity against terrorism. The book Boston Strong: A City’s Triumph Over Tragedy by Casey Sherman and Dave Wedge was used in the making of the 2016 movie Patriots Day. Another book, Stronger is a memoir by Jeff Bauman who lost his legs in the bombing. His story was dramatised in the 2017 film of the same name.
Describing someone as strong might seem a safe compliment. When conferred from the outside, however, it can convey a lack of understanding. I remember praising Fran’s strength in the early days of our friendship. I told her I didn’t know how she did what she does. She replied that she had no choice. I took the lesson to heart. Glib compliments are unhelpful and divisive, as is putting people on pedestals. Fran and I have a strict no pedestals policy. I’m grateful to Joanna, Melissa, and Amy who answered my question “What does ‘Bipolar Strong’ mean to you?”
Let me be heard without judgement. You don’t need to understand everything about bipolar disorder but we want to be heard about what we need and why. Don’t ignore me. I’m not a freak. Please do not dismiss my life because a disorder affects me. Make space for us who suffer. We matter.
— Joanna
I know it’s simple, but my answer is surviving.
— Melissa
Living life fully with acceptance of myself, including having a mental health condition.
— Amy
My friend Jen lives with bipolar disorder. She expressed her reservations about whether the term Bipolar Strong applies to her.
I’m questioning whether I am strong with this illness. My coping skills are crap.
I assured her that it does.
I think that’s a really important point. There must be many people who don’t consider themselves “strong.” And yet they get up each day, as you do. They show up. As you do. They are still here. As you are. And that is strength in my opinion.
Over to You
In this post I’ve explored a little of what the term Bipolar Strong means to me as a friend and ally with no lived experience of my own. Fran and I would love to know what the term means to you. Please share your thoughts in the comments below or via our contact page.
Photo by Heather Ford at Unsplash.
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