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This story originally appeared on Everyday Health’s network site bpHope.com.
I wondered if I was “bipolar enough” to speak up. Trusting myself to share my story openly about living with bipolar has brought me peace, connection, and freedom.
Secrecy, Shame, and Bipolar Disorder
For 24 years, I thought my bipolar illness was “too much” for people. My emotions and energy were too much for me — there was no way the world could handle them.
With my intense moods, there were days when I spent hours crying in the shower, wanting to crawl out of my skin, and nights when I poured the fourth glass of wine in an attempt to quiet the voice in my head.
But I would leave the house in the morning with a carefully brushed ponytail, a crisp button-down, and a smile. Secrecy and shame were my constant companions. Living between both versions of myself was exhausting and lonely.
Going Public With a Bipolar Diagnosis
Three years ago, I finally decided to tell my story on my podcast All the Wiser, which explores hope and possibility on the other side of pain. I realized I could no longer ask people to be brave and vulnerable on my show if I was unwilling to be truthful about my own challenges — the things that kept me suffering in silence.
A trusted friend and journalist, Holly Gordon, interviewed me about my journey, including how I balanced the highs and lows of bipolar 2 disorder with a demanding journalism career, motherhood, and the pace of modern-day life. Going into the conversation, I was determined that I would come across as relatable and show everyone, including myself, that I was not “crazy.”
The deepest secret of my life was out. I could barely breathe. I felt naked and exposed, terrified of how people would interpret my stories — my unique version of bipolar.
My pesky inner voice changed from, “Kimi, you are too much for this world,” to “Are you enough?” More specifically, “Are you bipolar enough?”
Mental Health Advocacy
I stepped into the light and raised my hand. I joined a mental health conversation and community and had no idea where — or if — I fit in. Even though I invited myself to the party, I wasn’t sure I was welcome. Loneliness crept in from a different direction.
While I live in an inner world that feels fragile and chaotic, I have a husband and children I love deeply and a career that gives me meaning and purpose. Yet I recognize that many others are dealing with more severe symptoms that have disrupted their relationships and daily lives. What would they think of my “gray area” version of bipolar?
I didn’t have time to answer that question before getting the first text message to my phone after the interview went live. A friend wrote: “Thank you! Your story helps me understand my mother’s bipolar better.”
With that simple note, I realized I was asking the wrong question. I don’t have to decide if I am “bipolar enough.” The better question to ask is: Is my story worthy of sharing?
I know the answer is yes — not because it is “enough” to satisfy someone else’s expectations, but because it is true.
Bipolar Disorder on a Spectrum
People began telling me their own stories in all their beautiful shades of gray. In my nuanced journey and in my depressive episodes, they found pieces of themselves, while others opened up about their crippling anxiety.
If I had held back my truth for fear that my bipolar disorder was not severe enough or that my ups and downs wouldn’t “qualify,” we would have lost the healing gift of connection.
I will continue to trust my inner whisper to be brave and speak openly about living with bipolar, because peace, connection, and freedom have come from sharing my story, warts and all.
Wherever you are on the spectrum of this illness, I hope you will join me in bringing your truth into the light. Our human experience is always worth sharing — when we feel safe to do so — as it is the best reminder we can offer to each other: No one is ever alone.
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