I mainly just want to tell my friends. I feel awkward even around my three close friends who do know. They get quiet and cock their heads, nodding and trying to understand—and I love them for that. But from the outside, they can’t fully understand—I’m 26, I graduated from Duke, I have a full-time job at an excellent company, I come from a nice Boston suburb, I lead what appears to be a typical twentysomething life—how could everything not be perfect?

There is a documentary that was recently released called Of Two Minds. It profiles several individuals around Los Angeles living with bipolar disorder, but no one featured was from the corporate world. In one review, the director mentioned that they had a Wall Street banker confirmed to be interviewed, but he dropped out last minute because he was afraid to lose his job. This is why I keep my mouth shut.

I worked an intense corporate job for four years before joining the start-up I’m at now. I work in a highly-coveted industry, and it was generally known that if you didn’t like your entry-level job, you were welcome to leave, and there would be a line of people out the door, happy to be your replacement. Few people have the opportunity to move up. After working hard for years, I was at the head of the pack, and felt like showing the slightest weakness would hurt my chances of getting a promotion. No one would say that out loud of course, but in every office I’ve worked in, I never once heard another employee openly mention dealing with a mood disorder, and given the size of my company, statistically I know I can’t have been the only one.

My doctors long suspected I was Bipolar II and I’ve had a diagnosis of Major Depressive Disorder and ADHD for years, but last summer I experienced my first hypomanic episode (the first of many), thus sealing the Bipolar II diagnosis. By continuing to work 14-hour days throughout the episode (which caused me to sleep less and expend way too much energy), I found that when it finally ended, I crashed much harder than usual. Making sure no one saw a difference in my work was my number one priority, and I was exhausted, spending my nights and weekends in bed either sleeping or too depressed to get up.

I needed to change meds quickly, but diverged slightly from the doctor’s recommendations to make sure the withdrawal and new side effects wouldn’t make me too sick to show up each day. I considered taking a medical leave of absence, but was worried about the repercussions when I told my boss why. I just kept on working, definitely to the detriment of my sanity, because I felt like I had no choice. My only goal was to make sure no one knew what was happening and it meant my recovery took much longer.

I was able to keep working without letting anyone know I was sick. I was and continue to be just as reliable as the rest of the employees at my company. I work hard, constantly get stellar reviews, and hardly ever take a day off. I have always shown up earlier and left later than most, and am confident that despite the extra work it requires, I have never once let my mental health affect my job.