Embracing the Bipolar Advantage

From Label to Leverage: Harnessing mental health strengths for athletic success

Words are powerful.
They inform, influence, entertain, and inspire.

And that’s exactly why I want to talk about one word in particular: disorder. More specifically, why I’m working to phase out that word when talking about bipolar.

Most of us who live with bipolar lead a quiet, private existence around our condition.

We may share details with a few trusted family members or close friends, but it’s not something we bring up at a neighborhood BBQ or during a work lunch. We become skilled at concealing it.

Why? Because Bipolar Disorder—a condition marked by cycles of depression and mania (or hypomania), with symptoms ranging from deep fatigue and hopelessness to elevated mood, impulsivity, and sleepless energy—still carries a heavy load of cultural misunderstanding, stigma, and shame. And so do many other mental health conditions. If you live with one—or love someone who does—you know exactly what I mean.

Let me give you a window into my own personal shame.

The Shame I Carried

During my pediatrics residency at Johns Hopkins, when I was initially diagnosed with bipolar, I was on overdrive—working 80-hour weeks, sneaking out in the dead of night to cycle “midnight century rides” before heading straight into 24-hour clinical shifts.

On the surface, I was thriving. Underneath, I was unraveling.

My hyperconfidence veered into delusion.
I walked into traffic without a glance.
My unchecked mania alienated colleagues.
I grew paranoid. Distrustful.

The cracks were widening, and I was heading for a breaking point that would soon land me in the hospital. Many of my colleagues suspected I was on drugs. And, in some ways, I was on drugs: a cocktail of endogenous hormones fueling increasingly risky and destructive behaviors.

When I eventually returned to work after recovering from my hospitalization, I was tremendously embarrassed and ashamed.

Ashamed to be “the guy who broke.”
Ashamed to be a doctor who had lost control of his mind.

How would I manage this new, disordered self-identity? How could I keep going?

I did keep going.

I recovered from this breakdown (and some others that followed), and went on to build a successful career as a pediatrician, eventually pivoting into medical leadership roles within health technology startups while continuing part-time patient care. Along the way, however, I hid my past pretty carefully.

Even many years later, and after having cared for thousands of children and families, I still carry around the shame of my initial breakdown, like a heavy weight.

Where the Stigma Starts

The shame those of us with bipolar carry stems from a fear that if people know about your illness they will think of you as “crazy” and—from that moment forward—they will analyze all of your behaviors through a certain lens.

Some of their judgement results from media portrayal of the illness. Some stems from the reality that people with bipolar can demonstrate unusual and even disturbing behaviors, and those scenarios get entrenched in our memories, further fueling the stigma.

Stigmatization also increases because of the way we talk about the condition. The words we use. There are only a handful of diseases which use the word “disorder” in the official lexicon of the disease, and most of them are psychiatric illnesses.

Look at these terms:

• Bipolar Disorder

• Generalized Anxiety Disorder

• Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder

• Attention Deficit / Hyperactivity Disorder

• Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

I think the psychiatrists may have fumbled this one. When you look at other medical diseases, the term “disorder”is used to define the category of illness—e.g., Metabolic Disorders, Neurological Disorders, Genetic Disorders—rather than the individual, personal label. That’s why you don’t hear anyone saying “she has Diabetes Disorder” or “he has Hypertension Disorder.”

But when it comes to psychiatry, your diagnosis becomes an identity.

Importantly, the way someone talks and thinks about their illness over time has a profound impact on how they see themselves.

The Bipolar Advantage

What if we flipped the script?

What if we adopted a strengths-first mindset—not denying the challenges, but refusing to let them define us?

That’s how I’ve come to see my own condition—not as a disorder, but as an advantage.

Yes, bipolar can be a rollercoaster of emotions and tumultuous at times. But when managed with insight, intention, and support, it can also offer unique strengths—especially in sport.

I call this the bipolar advantage.

How Bipolar Can Elevate Athletic Performance

As a bipolar athlete, I’ve learned how to work with my wiring—to harness the power of my condition to train, compete, and grow.

Here’s how that advantage can show up:

1. Increased Energy and Stamina

In hypomanic states, energy surges. This can fuel longer, more intense workouts—especially helpful when returning from injury or burnout.

2. Enhanced Creativity and Strategic Thinking

Elevated moods often bring creative insight. Athletes can use this for tactical thinking, inventive problem-solving, and outside-the-box strategies.

3. Boldness and Fearlessness

Reduced risk aversion can lead to assertiveness in high-stakes moments. A willingness to “go for it” when others might hesitate. (Caution: This strength requires conscious regulation—boldness without grounding can become recklessness)

4. Hyperfocus

The ability to lock in on a goal or a training block with single-minded drive can be a major asset in long-form endurance sports.

5. Emotional Depth

Yes, bipolar comes with emotional intensity—but that depth can be a superpower. It fuels passion. Grit. Connection to purpose.

6. Resilience Born from Darkness

Living through depression, again and again, builds a kind of toughness that can’t be taught.
This is where the real grit lives for me and others who share this struggle.
To lace up your shoes and show up anyway—that’s courage.

Let’s Change the Conversation

This small word shift—from “disorder” to “advantage”—isn’t about denying reality.
It’s about reclaiming authorship of our story.

Here at The Balanced Athlete, we’re building a community that sees strength in struggle, not shame.

We’re rewriting the narrative around mental health in sport—not just for athletes, but for everyone who supports them. And along the way, we’ll be exploring the full spectrum of mental health challenges which can tip us out of balance.

If you’ve ever felt like your mind works differently... like your story doesn’t quite fit the mold... welcome. You belong here. Over time, I hope you’ll begin to notice the strengths hidden within your struggle.

In these early posts, I’m working to clearly define The Balanced Athlete’s mission. Last week’s We Are The Balanced Athlete laid the foundation for where we’re headed and why it matters. Today’s post focused on reframing challenges to reduce shame and highlight strength. Next week, I’ll explore a core belief of this project: that the learnings, experiences and energy from your mental health journey can elevate both your performance and fulfillment in sport. Stay tuned!

Amidst the imbalance, let’s strive for balance,

Jud