Today, something I have been covering up under the guise of PMS came to rear it’s ugly head. Four years later. I thought shook it off back then. I’m in DC! I am cultivating a career! Everything is great! But little did I know “It” was sitting in the parking lot doing push ups, yelling, “CHALLENGE!” So today I am tired. Tired of caring more about stigma than my own well being. Tired of putting what people would say in front my my ability to properly care for my children. Tired of caring more about my ability to be considered “marriage material” instead of my ability to have a healthy relationship. I have Bipolar Disorder II. I have known this for years. Since 2008. I remember when I sat in the psych doctors office and she and we went over a questionnaire and talked about some of my feelings. That is when I heard those two words. Bipolar Disorder. Hell no. Not me. I read “72 Hour Hold.” I don’t do those things. She was clearly mistaken. I would try the Abilify and I hated it. Oh, my mood was stable but I hated the side effects. My legs were restless, it made it hard to sit down the majority of my day. So I just quit. I quit taking the Abilify, I quit seeing the doctor, I just quit. I was not going to just accept I was bi-polar. I was chronically depressed, with some anxiety issues, but I was not bi-polar. People around me agreed. “Oh it’s not that bad! They just want to put people on a bunch of drugs….you just need to pray baby.” Four years later I want to tell those people, you were wrong. So, I am sure you are all wondering how did I finally come to terms with my diagnosis? After four years of lying to every single doctor who has tried to help, it caught up to me. This morning I came crashing down from a episode of what I now know was hypomania that left me and emotional wreck in my office. I couldn’t get any work done because I was just sobbing at my desk. During this episode, I scheduled plastic surgery for my vaj-jay, looked into buying a home in Samoa, and I called a lot of people and left a lot of voice mails. I wasn’t done there. I called my GYN and told her I wanted to consult for a total hysterectomy, I scheduled a tattoo session, and lastly as some of you may be familiar I rapid posted on my favorite place, Facebook. What I know about manic episodes is they come to an end and when they end it ends in depression. Today while driving down 14th street, the mania ended and the depression came down, and it came down hard. I went to work feeling hopeless, unloved, ugly, broken, damaged. I would try to “snap out of it”, but I couldn’t I just….cried. Finally, I marched myself up to my therapist and I told her what I have always known. She chastised me about not being honest, and she put me on a mood stabilizer that doubles as an antidepressant, changed my “insomnia” medication (it’s not insomnia….its the manic episode…I don’t even try to sleep as I am up doing the most). The point is I did more harm to myself by not being honest with the very people trying to help me. They thought they were treating one thing when it was really another. So, no more lies about being “chronically depressed”. I know there is a giant stigma and I would rather deal with that then be a mess. Most men don’t understand, so there will be a lot of “I can’t date/marry her, she’s crazy!” That’s fine. I would rather be alone and sane than crazy with someone. I am going to take the next 30 days to get well, so I will not be on Facebook, only to share my blogs and that is it. I need to focus on getting better and my school work, so those are my priorities. Here’s to healing! I will keep you all posted!