A week ago I returned from my first visit to a psychiatric facility after a suicidal episode. They diagnosed me as bipolar I, and gave me depakote and risperdol. At first I was resistant to the diagnosis; to this point I thought I had been very good and kind to the doctors, explaining in sound, calm logic why and how I had to kill myself, all the thoughts I have and why they exist that way. If anything they should be telling me I'm the sanest person they'd ever met! Furthermore, I told them, bipolar people are happy at least sometimes, and I've never been happy, only extremely angry or depressed.

Thankfully I had a while in the hospital and a host of very patient people to help me come to terms with the idea. With new clarity I could suddenly identify cycles and episodes past, my vapid mood swings, my destructive thoughts being removed from reality. By the end my diagnosis fit more like a hug than a slap to the face.

Of course the "outside" is jarring. Since I've left I've made a real effort to change my thought processes, to end bad thoughts before they get out of control and to avoid situations that might trigger me. I can tell it's going to be a struggle but knowing you have a problem is the first step to fixing it.

One problem I'm having is with my friends and family- everyone I've told has been pretty dismissive. "You're perfectly normal, you're just confused right now." "Everyone checks out once in a while, are you sure this wasn't just too much stress?" "There's nothing wrong with you that changing X wouldn't fix." I know these people are genuinely concerned about the nature of my distress, and I've chosen to focus on making them understand most of the turmoil is where they can't see it, in my head. To them I might seem normal if not quick tempered, but inside my every interaction is a struggle. As yet most are still unimpressed by my diagnosis.

I plan to work really hard at maintaining the beast but it's difficult when the people you need for healing don't believe there's a problem. I also have to change my work (I'm a waitress of 4 years and as you can imagine it's been a problem) and my environment to stay healthy, and those all seem like daunting tasks. As good as it feels to have a name and a treatment for what's been plaguing me for years... well, it feels like someone just gave me a horse.

Sorry for the essay and thanks for reading- I don't know if there was a question but maybe people could post their experiences first being diagnosed.