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Last April, I found myself in the office of a new therapist for the third time due to a homophobic comment made by my previous therapist. Mental illness had become my norm. I started having difficulties at seven years old. I feared leaving my house, going to school, interacting with people and had an overwhelming feeling that I was going to get in trouble for doing something wrong. Throughout the remainder of my childhood and college years, I was able to manage my symptoms with the help of family, friends, teachers, coaches and school psychologists.

Even though I had grown used to a life with mental illness, I knew things were different this past April. For a week at a time, I talked fast, slept less, took risks uncharacteristically and had difficulty focusing on one task at a time. Then, my mood would shift. The following two to three weeks would be filled with isolation, extended periods of sleep, crying and hopelessness. And then my mood would shift back again. Something was really wrong. I knew that I needed to find a new therapist immediately.

After describing my symptoms at the time, the therapist started to ask me in-depth follow-up questions. At the end of the questions, they stated my symptoms indicated I had bipolar disorder. My body got tense and my heart started pounding. I was scared of the possible effects a bipolar disorder diagnosis would have on my relationships with loved ones and my future. And fearful of how I would deal with the stigma. It took about a week of processing for me to accept my diagnosis and to feel relieved. Anxiety, depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder—my previous diagnoses—were never correct. Bipolar disorder accurately addressed the entirety of my symptoms.

After almost two decades, I started to work towards a life of recovery with the correct diagnosis. For the greater part of the last year, I have made the intentional decision to focus on my physical and mental health. I see a therapist, acupuncturist, nutritionist and psychiatrist regularly. I do my best to sleep 8-9 hours a night, eat foods that meet my nutritional needs, exercise 4-5 times a week and maintain healthy relationships with my friends and family members. There are times when I find myself overwhelmed with managing bipolar disorder. I get frustrated that I am doing everything “correctly” and my symptoms continue to persist. I rely on friends, family members and myself to remind me that I am strong enough to deal with the rollercoaster of emotions associated with bipolar disorder.

I am 27 years old. I am in my final year of graduate school—earning my master’s degree in education. I work part-time at an elementary school as an instructional aide. I am a daughter, sister and soon-to-be aunt. I identify as a lesbian. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in April of 2018. And I am remaining hopeful as I continue on my road to recovery.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

Despite my childhood years where I was diagnosed with ADHD, my struggle with mental illness began many years ago in high school during my sophomore year. Initially, I struggled with panic attacks, anxiety, and depression. As time went by, my symptoms became more severe and included mood swings, distorted perceptions, and paranoia. I was diagnosed with Bipolar I while attending college and responded favorably to treatment and medications, although it wasn’t always easy. I was hospitalized twice while in college and had periods where I decompensated which made working and school challenging to say the least!

The last decade of my life was overshadowed by certain challenging events (divorce, a family member’s addiction, and a difficult relationship), that initially derailed me, yet eventually set the stage for healing. These troubled times provided the opportunity to learn and to employ various coping skills to more effectively manage my illness. I learned the importance of setting boundaries and self care to minimize the impact my illness has on my life.

It has taken quite a bit of trial and error and many painful mistakes to ultimately learn that I needed to put myself in the center of my life and practice self-care and self-love. I still struggle from time to time with the symptoms of bipolar illness, but I am able to decrease the intensity of symptoms by leading a life where I not only put myself and my health first, I also have better boundaries that protect me from engaging with people that are harmful to me.

I have been fortunate to “push through” many difficult times in my life and was able to accomplish a MS degree from the University of Tennessee, Knoxville in Therapeutic Recreation. I am registered as a Certified Therapeutic Recreation Specialist (CTRS) in the state of Washington. I have been taking a break this past year from working and hope to start my own business in time  as I feel it will be healthier for me in the end. I’m learning that in order for me to be successful while maintaining my health, I might need to do things differently than others and that is ok. I’m in the process of carefully constructing a small business model that allows for the flexibility and variety needed for me to excel while protecting my well being and energy.

Some of the activities I do to keep myself accountable to the process of healing are: mindfulness, walking in nature, blogging, singing on the SMULE app, attending weekly therapy & DBT skills group, and spending time with friends. Eliminating negative influences in my life has allowed more space to engage in activities that are healthier which minimizes symptoms.

I definitely feel I am a “work in progress”, but am hopeful now and am even excited about my future. I have always felt a little outside of the norm and in the past that made me feel insecure. I now embrace my differences and accept my limitations related to my illness rather than deny or fight them. The full acceptance of my illness has been a true gift in recovery as it has freed up a lot of energy that was used in fighting all the time and has allowed me to invest that energy into what is possible and what makes sense for me. What was once a dismal and bleak future is now full of joy and endless possibilities. Thanks for letting me share my experience with you. It’s healing to acknowledge that in the past I often felt my world was dark and now I see it in layers of color and possibilities. Being accountable and having better boundaries has been empowering and continues to bestow blessings in my life daily.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

Born into a dysfunctional family as the youngest of four girls, I experienced a childhood that shaped my future.

One of the earliest signs that I was having difficulties mentally was when I was 10 years old and my dad dropped me off at a house to spend the night with other people. I remember being hyper and obsessively recording all the songs from Casey Kasem’s Top 100 of the year, writing down each one.

When I was 12, I swung on a tire swing for five and a half hours straight—no bathroom breaks—at home with Mom and my step dad.

At my worst, I was promiscuous in my 20s. I would also order items from catalogs that I didn’t remember ordering and write hot checks I didn’t remember writing. This was before I was diagnosed at 27 with bipolar disorder. Later, I found out through Mom in 2010 that I had been diagnosed at 14 but the doctors weren’t allowed to write that in a child’s chart.

What helped me move from where I was then to where I am now was medication, therapy, sobriety, and work. Although I’ve had over 75 jobs and have worked since I was 12, only in the past seven years have I been able to hold the same job. I always knew I wanted to be a writer ever since the third grade, when I got an A+ on a story I wrote. I loved it and wrote every chance I got.

When I was eight, I was devastated to learn that my parents were divorcing. My older sister became my hero. She also became the surrogate mother in our newly formed mini-family. She fluffed my pajamas in the dryer before bed, sewed my scout badges on my uniform, comforted me when kids made fun of me, and read me stories. I concocted a fantasy world to counteract my childhood.

I’ve learned I can withstand a lot of pain.  I have judged people only to find out they’re dealing with a lot more than me. I can have a horrible, suicidal day, then have a great day and, with my gift of writing, I can give my daughter many words of comfort.

I stay on the right path by staying sober, taking my meds regularly, exercising, working with rescue animals, writing, pursuing my dream of being a writer again, working, making amends, keeping comedy in my life (since humor has gotten me through so much), helping others, and staying close to my sister.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

I am a physician and, as well, a psychiatric patient. I am living with bipolar disorder.

For many years, I traveled the bumpy road of refusing to accept my diagnosis and I avoided psychiatric care for far too long. Internalized shame and the stigma of being a psychiatrist with a mental health condition caused me to nail my bipolar closet door firmly shut. We expect physicians to be uber-competent and stoic so I was concerned about collegial disapproval and the loss of my medical license should my diagnosis become known. Despite these worries, I decided a few years back to step forward and publicly acknowledge that I have a mood disorder. Since then, I have shared my diagnosis with friends, family, and colleagues and have presented my truth at national and international conferences.

I never expected it but I have received more hugs and support from those who now know my story than I ever thought would come my way. I have come to realize that although I had been afraid of professional and personal repercussions, it turned out that those fears, in my case, were unwarranted. My biggest hurdle turned out to be the guy staring back at me in a mirror colored with shame and self-condemnation. I have come to see that there are few things more powerful and freeing than authenticity. We change our culture, currently imbued with stigma and judgment, one conversation at a time. I have learned that we need to respect and applaud those struggling with mental health challenges. We can hope that they will find their voice in a time and a way that is safe and best for them. It is wonderful that many share their stories quietly and in confidence with their doctor or loved ones in their lives. Others, like me, may find it helpful and liberating to speak their truth to a larger audience. But, it is unfair to place the burden of shifting the current status quo of silence and blame onto the shoulders of those who have been unwell. Friends, family and colleagues have an obligation to play their part in making the journey toward wellness an easier and safer one.

By coming out of my shadows previously filled with secrecy, I have stepped into the light of a healthier day. Replacing the corrosive inner narrative that had been swirling in my head with an affirming one of self-respect and affirmation has freed me in a way I couldn’t imagine. I still have my moments when I have to take a deep breath and a leap of faith to say to others that I am living with bipolar disorder, but it has become much easier over time. While medications have been life-saving for me, I no longer underestimate the power of walking through previously closed doors of shame and self-loathing. My journey has been years in the making but I have arrived at a place of true peace and self-acceptance. Because of this, I am a success story: a caregiver and, at last, a care receiver living well with bipolar disorder.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

My name is Carrie, and I’ve lived in Las Vegas my whole life. Since I was 5 years old, my life has felt like a constant roller coaster of chaos, although at an early age I gained some coping skills that helped me survive childhood trauma. I adapted to living in a constant state of “fight or flight,” and it affected everything from my parents’ nasty 10-year-long divorce process to my adapting to my mother’s and father’s opposite expectations about mental illness and substance abuse. I felt the immense pressure of trying to be an adult for my siblings while shielding them from the trauma that had affected me. At the time, I didn’t realize how much these childhood experiences would affect me as an adult, and I never recovered from them in a healthy way such as through therapy.

I was 14 years old when my mental health disorders developed. My behavior and thinking changed drastically around that time and, hoping to ease my intense pain, I made a series of decisions that were self-destructive. I developed a tendency to isolate myself; I was drinking every weekend. I couldn’t concentrate on anything: not school, not friendships, not even self-preservation. I battled daily my feelings of extreme stress, sadness, loneliness, and anxiety.

By 20, I was spiraling out of control because of self-destructive decisions and progressively scarier thoughts—symptoms of undiagnosed mental health disorders. Feeling completely out of control inside my own mind led me to the deepest depression I have ever had. I was scared and exhausted all at the same time. This wasn’t how I was going to live the rest of my life, so I sought more precise answers from a mental health facility.

It’s hard to ask for help, right?  But I am so glad I did: I had finally seen light at the end of the tunnel after 14 years. I talked with a doctor and was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder episodes, PTSD, and a severe form of Generalized Anxiety Disorder. But, after some time had passed, the treatment for these disorders wasn’t a great fit for me anymore. Again, I felt like I was stuck inside a body that I didn’t belong in, and I was terrified of my own brain. I had a no lack of control over my impulses, and my brain functioned at a rate of at least 100 mph. I always went to bed wondering what type of mood I’d wake up in. I wanted to give up, but that wasn’t an option.

Three months ago, I finally found the answer: I was told I’d been misdiagnosed, and that I actually have Bipolar 2. So, my journey continues—but in the meantime, I have become a wife and a mom, gone back to college, and am holding down a great full-time job.

I still have episodes and hard days, but the persistence to find answers and get help is what saved my life. I am in control of my symptoms now—not the other way around. I believe that all hard experiences can be turned into learning lessons. This one, in particular, has helped me stop comparing myself to others and to develop strong self-esteem. I have started to develop resilience to the adversities that come my way. I have hobbies again, I laugh with people, and I’m discovering who I am for the first time in what seems like forever! I was able to grow the most when I realized that happiness doesn’t start with a job or money: it starts with me. A resilient, positive mindset is a key to success, especially with mental health.

Bipolar, anxiety, depression, and PTSD are a huge part of me, but they don’t define me. They don’t define you. You will learn to manage your disorders once you receive proper treatment and have developed the skills, one by one, to love yourself. We all deserve that.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

The best way I can describe my experience with bipolar is that it is like the movie A Beautiful Mind—minus the paranoid schizophrenia. The loss of insight and connection to reality were complete, and I found myself acting in ways that were unrecognizable to myself and those around me. I also began to experience extreme moods, some of which appeared beautiful, but which ultimately hid a vast darkness.

The symptoms began innocently enough: although I wasn’t getting much sleep, I began to feel as if I didn’t need it anymore. My mind was “on” all the time and I was extremely productive in all manner of ways. Life held an incredible amount of meaning: colors seemed brighter, songs sweeter, and feelings of ease permeated my marrow. But soon, time began to move too quickly, as if I were on a crazy carousel. Ordinary encounters with predatory individuals I normally wouldn’t have spoken to held strong cosmic significance. My emotional responses were at odds with those of loved ones around me. I began to experience symptoms of hypersexuality.

Left undiagnosed and untreated, bipolar will consume you alive. It destroyed my marriage, and I was left with the aftermath, alone. A year later, I discovered lithium. Taking it was like waking from a dream, only to find my identity, dreams, and everyone I had loved (and held dear) gone. I tried to restore relationships that had been broken, but I learned that sometimes they can’t be. These are the brutal truths of bipolar: the dark point you must come back from.

I came out of the darkness a different person, one with a renewed sense of purpose and hope. I was alone, and yet not alone. People who didn’t know me walked with me through the darkness. Their kindness and compassion moved me. And although I had fallen, I learned how to pick myself back up.
Time reveals greater truths. It’s like flying a plane: when you’re close to the ground, all you can see are the immediate details. And yet the farther away you get, the broader your perspective is on what you see and understand. My own journey with bipolar has been like this. When I looked out at first, all that I saw was destruction. And yet as more time passed, I saw the greater truths of beauty and resilience. Of grace and forgiveness. Of love, what it is, what it means—and its power to restore and heal.

It is with this spirit that I now write to share all that I have learned: that darkness will happen in life, that bipolar can be an awful monster to defeat (and one that must be continually fought back each day). But, through this process, something significant can be found—something life-giving, solid, and real. There is hope. Let’s walk through this life, and all the pain it can bring, together.

Dr. Eleora Han is a licensed clinical psychologist. Visit her at eleorahan.com/blog where she shares her perspectives as a clinician, patient, and individual with bipolar.
This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

I had a great childhood, playing sports and spending time with family. We lived near the beach in the South Coast of Massachusetts and I had access to all ocean activities growing up. I made a lot of friends and was very outgoing.

I graduated high school and had been very involved socially. It wasn’t until later in college that I started to show signs of anxiety and depression. I soon began to isolate.

After college, I got married and we had two children, but the stress of full-time work and the pressure of providing for my family became too much. I struggled to have important conversations without being confrontational and angry. I began using alcohol to numb myself and found it difficult to participate in life. In 2008, I got divorced, was hospitalized twice, and spent nine months in a psychiatric halfway house. I went bankrupt during that time, and then lived in the basements of family members for three long years while I was being treated for major depressive disorder. Due to the damage done to my relationships during the years of an undiagnosed and untreated mental health condition, I remain devastated that I have not seen nor spoken to my two beloved children for over 10 years.

In 2011, I went back into the halfway house and then went homeless in 2012, walking the streets of Boston and spending my nights on the cold basement floor of a homeless shelter. Also in 2012, I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder and PTSD. I was placed on the right medication and life has been a complete turnaround since then. I have my own apartment and car, and I’m grateful to have the means to meet my most important needs.

The pain of missing my children is excruciating. Not having any contact with them is a result of the divorce and an undiagnosed mental health condition.  I deal with the pain with positive distractions, meditating, working with a life coach and keeping in touch with family and friends. I have learned that psychotherapy, medication management, and having a strong support network are keys to my present-day dealings with bipolar disorder.

I have certainly had my struggles, but I feel I have overcome them through determination and perseverance. I now want to give back to others, show them that life is short and that we must be grateful for all that we do have. We need to take our mental health condition in hands and do what we can to take each day one at a time, step-by-step. My goal is to mentor people with bipolar disorder to help them avoid some of the same pain, struggle, and suffering that I have experienced. I want to live a life of joy and use my own personal experience to help others!

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

Even as a young child, I lacked impulse control and fear of consequences. If I wasn’t engaged and feeling like I was learning something new, I’d get bored very easily; I would start and quit things once I “mastered” them. I did this with the piano, the violin, acting, singing, writing, and as an adult college student. I dropped out of, then returned to, college more times than I care to admit. Jobs became an issue as well: I’m 45, and have had well over 30 jobs since I was 16.

As a teen, I was sexually promiscuous and engaged in other dangerous behaviors. I met my partner at the age of 14 and we are still together, despite the many separations I have caused. I have had many financial setbacks and done inexplicable things (waking people up at 2:00 a.m., making cookies and shoveling snow in the middle of the night, even disappearing for several days without telling anyone where I was).

After my diagnosis at 22, I started taking medications (due to a court order), then abruptly stopped the minute I completed my sentence. I remember being so sick that someone close to me said, “See, you are addicted. Bipolar isn’t real, it’s in your head. You’re fine, and the drugs make you weak.  You are a strong Latina woman.”

Twenty years later, I entered a manic state that almost led to a divorce. We were separated when my worst depression started. I somehow managed to get up and care for the kids, get them to school, and even go to work. I was in bed every night right after dinner, and often skipped showers to allow extra time for sleep. I lost my job and, as with past behavior, told no one. A year later I attempted suicide.

I talked myself out of a 72-hour hold when those close to me said it was an “accidental overdose” and that I’d be fine. For five more months I fought off the worsening depression, isolating myself and planning my next attempt. I became tired and admitted myself into an inpatient program. When I wrote about my experiences, I felt they were a family embarrassment that should not be shared outside the family.

Today I understand my boundaries and I maintain them. The people closest to me now accept my diagnosis, and I respect the boundaries of what they are comfortable discussing. I work in a mental health clinic as a peer specialist, and my clients keep me grounded. I have the best job in the world, a job I can retire from. At last I found a place where I can have a mental health condition and be accepted.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

I believe I was born with a predisposition for mental health conditions and that substance use disorder triggered its onset. During my adolescence, there were several trips to the ER for substance overdoses. Soon I began to hear voices outside my bedroom door taunting me. I was so frightened that I would leave my room during the night and stay away for weeks at a time. I bathed in a nearby spring pool and slept in the back of my station wagon in a parking garage. I pawned all of my belongings to have money for food and gas. This went on for months until I voluntarily checked myself into a psychiatric hospital, which I did three times in a six-month period. I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, a combination of a thought disorder and a mood disorder.

The emergence of my mental health condition was the first time in my life that my parents worked together as a team to help me with my problems. Their support led to treatment not long after the onset of my symptoms. The leader of the drop-in center was definitely an important member of my support system, and the center was a place for people with mental health conditions to go to find even an iota of meaning and purpose in their lives. It was a spark of hope for many of us, but when I arrived things were so bad that it was an accomplishment to simply play a game of Scrabble with a group of people.

For nearly 12 years since then I have been working in the field of wellness recovery. I have a Bachelor’s degree in psychology, received my Wellness Recovery Action Planning (WRAP) certification two years ago, and am currently a certified Recovery Peer Specialist. When I feel overwhelmed by the mistakes I have made in my life, my feelings are quieted by the realization that I may have made a difference in someone else’s life today. There is a degree of irony in the work I do: many of the peers that I interact with through my employment are the same people I interacted with at the drop-in center years ago.

I have learned that I am a human being just like everyone else: I have real feelings and emotions, and I am a sensitive person. I know that I have the right to make mistakes, and I have the right to feel afraid and say, “I don’t know.” I know that if I keep working, utilize my support system, and always take my medication and avoid drugs and alcohol, I will stay on the recovery path.

Many people have to be in the darkness before they can truly know the significance of stepping into the light. Mental illness miracles emerge from delusions experienced in the darkness. I hold onto the hope that the unpleasant feelings and emotions can improve over time, and that darkness will become not just light but life.

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.

My mother, widowed at an early age, was a teacher and I was her youngest daughter. She had to face life with three children in an underdeveloped country. She felt the best thing she could do for me was to enroll me in a sports academy.

I began to practice gymnastics and sometimes had collapses, but overall this experience ended well. Despite being far from my family, I had a happy childhood: I loved sports and enjoyed the way I gained capabilities. I was an outstanding athlete and earned silver and bronze medals in many competitions. I was an athlete until 1979, when I began my university studies.

At 21 I received a degree in Pedagogy (English Language), and began to work as a teacher in various levels of education as I sought to become a methodologist. I learned a lot because I never stopped studying. I was assigned to work as an interpreter and translator in a factory where I stayed for two years, but the working conditions took a toll on my mental health. I began to experience depression, anxiety and, most importantly, a lack of self-esteem. My mother was concerned about me, and at the same time I had two children of my own, a son and a daughter.

I consulted psychiatrists but received misdiagnoses. I suffered ups and downs while my children were growing, and needed hospitalization. The last hospitalization was in 2014, when I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder and received the right medication. Since then I have had to break the stigma about my condition. I never stopped working (since 1996), which helped me to realize that I could go forward, and I could apply the willpower that I acquired from my career in sports to help me succeed.

I have learned that I am capable of reaching my professional aspirations. Today I am 55. I have worked as a translator in a radio station for 14 years, and have work at a university teaching English to students in the fields of psychology and pedagogy.

My daily routine helps me stay on the right path. I had the chance to encounter DBSA, and I feel blessed for that. I usually read everything in each issue of BP magazine, I take medications, I get proper sleep, and I practice meditation, yoga, and Qi Gong. I am also a member of an Ishaya community, whose main objective is to go beyond mental limitations and to explore consciousness.  I also like to take walks with a neighbor to relax and be outdoors.

I am enjoying happiness and peace, and I wish to help spread them. Thanks to the universe!

This story is a part of the Life Unlimited series.
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