Normally I post a lot of light-hearted threads, but I think this is an interesting topic that I would like to discuss.

What was it like to come out as BP? Who did you tell first? Or, if you didn't tell anyone, why? I'm very interested in reading all of your stories.

As some of you may know, I'm 24 and I haven't told anyone in my family that I'm bipolar. They don't know that I go to therapy, and they don't know that I take medication. They don't even have the slightest suspicion that I'm seeking mental help. Nada.

Why haven't I told them? Because they're the kind of people who mock those with mental illnesses. They'd rather deride the mentally ill than educate themselves the subject of mental illness. They have never been particularly supportive of me in general, so I've never had the desire to come out as BP to them. (Is that fair?)

I've literally spent a good portion of my childhood feeling miserable due to concentration issues and depression (i.e., undiagnosed ADHD and bipolar disorder). They always brushed off my issues as being "hormonal" and whatever other excuse they could come up with (because, again, they never cared to educate themselves on mental illnesses). I literally had depression since I was 11 and they could care less, despite all my teachers commenting that I had "problems".

I debate whether I should ever tell my parents. I would sometimes think about the possibility of telling them, but my mom made a snide remark about mental illness today and it reminded me why I didn't want to tell them. I don't even want to repeat what she said because it greatly disappoints me and shows how out of touch she is with mental illness.

I could come out as BP, but it's just not worth it to me. I see no personal gain. Am I being selfish?

I also don't care to come out as BP to my existing friends. On one hand, your friends should be supportive of you whether or not you have BP, but on the other hand, how miserable would you feel if all your friends abandoned you because of your BP? I guess I'm afraid of the latter. I'm afraid to know. I don't want to know. I'd rather keep my hopes up than discover the truth and wallow in my own misery.

I feel the same way with my parents, although I'm fairly certain they would never understand.

The only people I've told are: (1) my therapist (duh!), (2) my primary care physician, (3) my nutritionist, and (4) a random psychologist I talked to. I've strictly told them for medical reasons, not because I thought it'd be "interesting" to see their reaction.