I was diagnosed as chronically depressed when I was eight. I knew then that the treatment didn't work.
By the time I was in college I decided that the diagnosis was wrong. Shortly after that my husband and daughter both died and rather than getting a correct diagnosis I drink alcohol.
That's my regret.
I knew, even in my despair, that I had a choice--and I took the easy way.
If I had gotten the bipolar diagnosis then, my whole life would've been different.

But I have a diagnosis now and my life is different now.

I'm very grateful.