If you care enough to start reading this, please read the whole thing or don’t read it at all.

I’ve been trying to muster up the courage to tell you guys about something that has had a big impact on my life over the past two years or so. Keeping this secret betrays everything I believe in in terms of openness and bravery and not caring what people think but I just haven’t been able to bring myself to be open about this until now. So here it goes… I suffer from bipolar disorder (also known as manic depression). Bipolar I to be specific. I was officially diagnosed in March of 2013 but I had been showing symptoms of the disorder for months before then. PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS NOTHING LIKE WHAT YOU THINK. I cannot stress that enough. I will not be smiling and laughing one second and then start yelling at you the next. That’s not even bipolar, that’s just fucking crazy and it makes me so angry when people call that bipolar because it just spreads ignorance about a disorder that is already so misunderstood. After I was diagnosed, my doctor prescribed me some meds to keep my shit under control. He gave me lithium to keep me from getting too manic—I’ll explain what that is later on—and he gave me Lamictal to keep me from falling into depression. He also gave me Ambien and Clonidine to treat my insomnia which I developed as a result of my disorder. After a while, the meds began to work and my symptoms disappeared. Since about May, I’ve been pretty much free of all my symptoms but if I were to ever stop taking my meds, they would resurface. There is no cure for manic depression. Only treatment. And I’m glad to say that my symptoms have been treated and are held at bay.

Here’s a link to the personal statement I wrote for my UC application that was about my experience with manic depression.

Mania is the fun and dangerous one. When I was in my manic phase, I was on top of the fucking world. I felt like I was high without doing any drugs—that’s not to say I didn’t also do many drugs during this time, haha. I had this beaming confidence about me in everything I did. I thought I was the shit at all times and that everyone loved and idolized me. It was fantastic to always feel good. Or so I thought. Looking back on it, I see all the damage it caused. Aside from that inflated self-image and sense of grandiosity, mania also came with a shitload of negative side effects. Things like hypersexuality (I wanted to fuck hella girls at the same time and I really just ended up being lonely as shit because I was never satisfied with what I had and that eventually left me with nothing), impulsiveness (I’d spend all my money on useless shit because “Why not?” and I skipped a lot of class using that same logic), increased energy (I wanted to do fucking everything and I could never sleep), and I was very irritable. That last one is the dangerous part of mania. It was very easy to set me off during that period of time. I remember once I came home at like 3 in the morning and I think I reeked of pot, too. My dad tried to calmly tell me to stop going out so damn much and I started yelling at him and I put my fists up like I was gonna fight him. In retrospect, it was really a low point in my life. So basically, being manic means that you have an inflated self-image, an insane amount of energy, you’re more prone to hypersexuality, substance abuse, poor decisions, and you can be extremely irritable at times. My manic phase lasted for about three months. Yeah.

Depression is pretty much exactly what you think it is. I had no confidence whatsoever when I was depressed. I didn’t really make a lot of eye contact, I thought no one liked me, and I thought that I was worthless. Nothing could make me smile. Some days, I couldn’t even bring myself to get dressed and get out of bed. So I didn’t. There were many days where all I did was sleep. I was at risk for suicide every day. I really really really just wanted to die more than anything. I never tried to hurt myself or anything but I fantasized about ending it all very often and just it was really just some shit, I promise you. I suffered from depression twice. Once for about a month right before I began my manic phase and then again for another month after my manic phase. Yeah. They were pretty shitty. (Fun fact: Kid Cudi released Indicudaround the time of my second bout of depression—which was undoubtably a million times worse than the first—and that shit lightweight ruined my life. Hahah. I love Cudi and all but that nigga is just too damn relatable for a depressed teenager and so I vibed to that a lot when I was depressed and it just brought me much lower.)

Anyway, if you’re still reading this, I just wanna make it clear that I have been treated for my symptoms and so while I do still technically suffer from the disorder, I really don’t show symptoms of it thanks to my meds. So if I’m yelling at you, don’t dismiss it in your mind as Oh, that’s just him being bipolar, no, if I’m yelling at you, I must be really fucking pissed at you. Same goes for if I appear sad, happy, or anything else. Don’t think to yourself or talk to your friends behind my back that I’m just being bipolar. I’m just being me. That’s it. Not bipolar. Me. I just wanted to share this with you so that I can stop beating myself up for being in the closet about this and so maybe you guys will understand me just a little bit more. I also wanted to kill some ignorance and stigma regarding bipolar disorder. I’ve felt shitty about myself for not being open about my struggles because it felt like I was betraying who I am and everyone else who was struggling along with me. To use an analogy, it was like a gay dude who stayed hidden in the closet and let his friends be ignorant and homophobic because he was too afraid of being persecuted to speak up. I was too afraid of being outcast and too reluctant to allow my social status to drop to speak up and I am ashamed to say that but it’s the truth. I hope you guys get what I’m trying to say even though I’m not saying it all that well.

Please don’t be afraid to come up to me and ask me questions if there’s something you’re unclear about and yeah. Thanks.

If you read all this, I love you and I hope you understand me.

I really hope you understand me.