I learned to never discuss my illness with my family.
Especially my aunt.
She doesn't believe I have a problem.
I understand why they don't believe because I can put a disguise like I'm normal around people I'm not 100% open with. My boyfriend and my cousin are the people who truly know me. They understand that I have a problem.
My aunt's main concern was the medicine. She thinks my medicine is harmful and addictive. I'm on Trileptal, Trazodone, and Buspar. Far as I know, they are relatively safe. I try to explain it but she doesn't listen. So far as she knows, I'm not on my medicine anymore. So I keep it like that.
My sister understands I need medicine.
My brother and his wife understand I have a problem, but they don't think it's bipolar.
My other brother harasses me on Facebook all the time talking about me being in the nuthouse and taking pills. He also has something against my boyfriend.
I learned to keep my illness to myself because no one cares except the ones that really know and care.
I wish people understand more. My siblings have problems themselves. I'm the only one actually receiving help. Like my brother harassing me on Facebook. He definitely needs help like he has bad anger issues. But they don't want help, they rather drink or do drugs.
I know I need help so I seek professional advice.
My medicine is helping me not have weird attacks or freak out as bad. I don't ever want to stop the medicine because I don't like the way I was.

Sorry for the rant.