Accept? I was diagnosed Bipolar 1 in October of 2022 (age 23) and I thought it was a crock of shit. Until a few of the only friends I had LEFT sat and created a single list of everything I’ve said or done to them or other people. Most of it completely inhumane and cruel, and some of it downright illegal 😬 Even then I still didn’t believe it. My Mother also told me about several things I had said and done before I was a teenager that lead to potential signs. And reminded me how that we her diagnosis 6 years prior. I was still in basic denial even after months of therapy and medications. I didn’t come to fully believe it until about this week actually. Because I realized that for all of April and May I was manic. My mother and friends had told me about some of the manic episodes I had in the past and they typically lasted 3-4 weeks. And after sitting and thinking about everything I did and how I felt two months, I realized it was true. Because the day of my brother’s graduation (May 26th) I had found out that my father had been physically violent towards my stepmother again, that very morning. And had done it once or twice since the year started. And my 10 year old sister told me about it in my car, crying and in pain. Afraid to be home, afraid to be near our Dad, afraid OF our Dad. I was watching myself in that back seat. When I was 10 years old. Saying the very same things. Except back then when I was a kid, it was a daily reoccurrence. And watching her completely fall apart made the glass mask on my face shatter into a million pieces and I’ve spent the last three weeks in a serious depressive phase because of it. All the energy, the power, the hard core exercise I did 4-5 days a week, the feeling of pure joy and happiness, like I was unstoppable and could achieve anything was gone. It took 20 minutes for my father to not only rip me out of a manic episode, but to destroy all the progress I had been making in therapy trying to heal from the memories that he gave me.

So while I have finally believe in my diagnosis I don’t think I’ll ever truly accept it. Because to me it doesn’t feel like a disorder, it just feels like me. I know that’s probably a bad mindset to have but when my psychiatrist said that it appears my disorder began in my early teens then I have no choice but to believe that’s who I truly am. If I didn’t get the chance to develop without said disorder then who would I have been? It doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen. I am who I am because of it.