Getting the diagnosis explained a lot of the things that had happened in my life, but I didn't accept it at first. I was diagnosed at 29, but refused meds and did not return to the pdoc. Things stabilized in their own, and I thought I was fine, until I went off the rails at 33. That's when I accepted the diagnosis, found a pdoc, and started meds. That was 4 years ago. I accept the diagnosis now and I'm ok with it. I kept it secret for a long time, but more recently in the past few months I've been more open about it. I figure it's nothing to be ashamed of, even though I have felt shame about it, and I want to counter the stigma by showing people that bipolar doesn't look like the stereotype they may have in mind. I think that is part of my acceptance. I've seen several pdocs, and they all agreed on this diagnosis. Interestingly my therapist does not agree with the diagnosis, and he thinks the label I have accepted is harming me. I don't agree with him, but it is interesting to consider his perspective and look at ways that I have functioned and gotten through some crises. But I do think he is wrong, because things have gotten pretty crazy at times.