I think you're awfully fortunate that your parents are able to help you through this period and that they are so lovingly supportive. All you have to do is read about these poor souls on this forum that are desperate, lost and suffer such loneliness because they have dysfunctional family or they've alienated everyone because of their illness. This is a huge gift!

When I was younger and the bipolar started manifesting itself, all I got was a bunch of ***** and disdain from my mother because she couldn't live vicariously through me anymore. It was al about her and how she appeared to others. Your folks stepped right up to the plate, I would imagine without being asked, to help you. That relationship that you've cultivated right there is worth a billion bucks.

Of course therapy is the go-to suggestion to you to learn coping skills to deal with your newfound issues. An often overlooked problem are meds...how many you're on...what your dosage is...known side effects...and do they play nice with each other.

Like you, the med regimen that works for me presents its own problems. Anxiety. I can't fly on an airplane any more. I flew 8-10 times per year for like forever, so a fear of flying wasn't the cause. The only thing that had changed is that I went to hospital, and started on the meds. Places I've gone to literally scores of times were off limits now.

I worked with my psych to get the dosage of my meds as low as I could, and some side effects lessened. Also, be patient. The passage of time and resistance/adjustment of your body to your meds will reduce troublesome side effects too. I still can't fly, but I'm tickled pink to be stable and that's the priority. There are other ways to get around.

One of the most successful coping mechanisms that was priceless to me when I came out of hospital and was looking at a new foreign world for the first time, was to set 'realistic expectations'. Once the bipolar kicked my butt and I understood it was here to stay, honesty about that was a huge step.

I had to decide whether to serve myself lifelong frustration by insisting on trying to climb that rugged, dangerous, slippery mountain with the 100lb pack I just inherited from my brain dysfunction, or to seek a nice attainable life path over gently rolling green hills with trees full of singing birds.

Things are different now. The second I decided to be realistic with what I might attain in my life, all the stress and expectations from myself and others just fell off my back like a wet coat. It was liberating. Can a person still set goals for the future? Of course...but right now the priority is to be stable. Piling on unneeded pressure is counterproductive to getting well, and used to your new world.