I was first diagnosed with major depressive disorder when I was 13 years old. By the time I reached 16, a few more labels were added to the MMD. These included borderline personality disorder, bipolar disorder, post traumatic stress disorder and OCD. Fun stuff. Medication was the only treatment available at that time. My parents decided the best place for me to be was hospitalized in the mental health unit of a large teaching hospital. I felt and thought the reason for such a drastic change in my life was for their convenience, not what was best for me.

Little background, my father, a surgeon, was diagnosed with severe bipolar disorder, treatment was medication. When the medication no longer controlled the symptoms, he would stop working and sit staring blankly at the television for about 3 months. At some point, my mother would notice and send him out of town for a series of ECT. He would return from his “vacation” zombie like but after a few weeks or so, would return to his baseline personality. He always had a flat affect most of the time.

So, apparently I inherited the gene or genes for mental illness of one name or another.

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I first began to experience symptoms of bipolar disorder in my early teens. i was put on Lithium while in a hospital and right away the almost catatonic depression I was in began to ease. From there on in, it seemed medication would be the answer to everything that was wrong with me. For years i was on every depression medication available, tricyclics, MAO inhibitors–when one stopped working, I was simply put on something else. Then things got better and I needed no medication through my twenties. i still struggled with lows, but there were no suicide attempts, I was able to live and love, to work and, for the most part, even enjoy life. Then, at the age of 29 I had a manic episode and my medication nightmare began.

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I have overcame so much in my life, childhood trauma and abuse,foster care, drug addiction, homelessness, incarceration, and mental illness. In 2016 I sought treatment for bipolar disorder, I also decided to pursue my undergraduate degree in psychology on a pursuit to become an Licensed Professional Counselor, I want to provide affordable treatment to those that need it most in our society. I am now in graduate school studying mental health counseling. I could not have done this without my medications, they saved my life and changed me for the better. 

Hello, my name is Matthew.

I have a serious mental illness and the diagnosis is Bipolar disorder.

We all have our own story. Mine is how I went through school K-12 and always struggled with depression and anxiety but I never got the right treatment until my senior year of high school was falling apart.

I did graduate but it was more than getting to class on time, doing homework and studying for the next test. It was Bipolar 1… a serious and complicated illness. With words going around school that, I was falling apart like a monument that collapsed with no foundation. The foundation was not cemented it was my state of mind. A dark hole that comes quick, I went to Havenwick Mental Hospital.

I was ran a cross-country race, I was always a great runner since 10th grade. “Come on Matt speed up,” I finished with a bad time. Which was not me but my team treated it like it was. I was just dehydrated, which was true, but how about writing how you will run a race and do well in school the next day when you stay up until 3 am? Why, I was manic. Manic is less sleep more energy. (Superman) I felt like trash with a cherry on top.

Going back to 2005 when I was in kindergarten the alphabet was tough for me. The teachers most likely said he is hard on himself or he is slow. Ever since then I was hard on myself, but moving back to my senior year I was falling apart quickly and then started to not be as hard on myself once I received treatment at a mental hospital I felt happy and with peace to be in the same room as other people with mental illness. When I was in Havenwick Mental Hospital, I was thinking of my friends and people at my high school. Not as much as if I miss them, but the fact that the people in hospital with me did not take the small things for granted. Small things are like appreciation for one another.

Back at my high school it was you are a jerk get out of here you are a no buddy. Then I was rethinking my friends and being happy to talk to others that had a great appreciation of one another. Respect for one another. With respect comes a problem to connect about depression, anxiety, coping, medication, and other mental illness in a hospital room. I just think it ironic how the people that don’t realize they have it all but instead that blame other people for their problems. For the people in the hospital, it was just being happy to have shot at recovery. Ever since my recovery, I made a face with puzzle pieces each piece as a word that defines who I am. I made sure that I filled it all the way. To never looked back!

It took months maybe a year or two to feel very comfortable about being aware of mental illness. That’s what brought me to type this letter. Everyone has chances to somehow come out of your mental health problems. If not come out to feel somewhat relieved.

The treatment was more about faith than anything else faith that you have a shot to change for the better. Support groups are in many hospitals in the Metro Detroit Area. Just look on the web or a person that may know about mental health in general. If our problems were meant to be solved by ourselves we would not be speaking the same languages. Look what humans have done for thousands and thousands of years. Whether it was the next Empire or helping your neighbor down the street we have done it all. That’s what support is, its self help. What’s wrong with help, nothing. I have help. Great! “A man that faces his problems can teach someone else how to fight their problems, but not someone that runs away.”

Failure is just part of life, it’s learning from someone or your own past mistakes. A quote from Henry Ford the man that started the assembly line a line full of other people that work on different parts that help each other to achieve a goal that it’s hard but they made it look easy. “Failure is the opportunity to begin again more intelligently.”- Henry Ford to this day still makes a tremendous impact on the auto industry and assembly lines in general. He also made a lot of mistakes in the process but learned from one another. He made jobs for people with severe mental illnesses. (Production line) Hope this letter helps someone in need of hope in their lives.

Hi my name is Robbi I’m a 43year-old mother of 3 at 32 I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Mental illness runs in my family.   My mother and grandfather were not diagnosed So unfortunately due to lack of awareness of the disease resources and lack of proper medications at 8 I lost my mother and witnessed  her suicide . At 10 I  witnessed  the  death of my grandfather to suicide also I’m a twin. Despite my extreme trauma and my losses I continue to fight for those like me who need support resources hope love kindness caring respect…most of all stop the stigma. I do not drink nor do drugs. I have no criminal  record. I have an Associate degree as an Licenced Optician. I want to do what ever I can to help who ever I can. God has seen me thru and I feel like this organization will help me achieve those goals as well as I feel thats my purpose. It brings me great joy to give others hope. I want to become a motivational speaker like Les Brown.  With Gods help I will❤

I am writing this letter to you as a spouse and sibling of mental illness.My brother was never fully diagnosed with depression or bipolar, he suffered several years. As a result of not getting proper treatment, his medication was changed very frequently and he  committed suicide. He left behind three children under the age of 13. It’s been really hard to understand the what and the why, he chose to take his life.

I took the next NAMI Family-to-Family program at our local VA hospital, in 2010 it was the first time I had been educated on any form of mental illness. After taking the class I wanted to let everyone that I know about all the information I learned. I took the teacher program and became an advocate for NAMI and I can honestly say that it helped me to heal from my brothers death. I still would like to know why but that’s something I will never know. 

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The idea of having a Bipolar Disorder stung me for a long time. When I’m feeling down, sometimes I feel the pressures of the stigma revolving around my mental illness. I always felt like there was a “normal” Valerie or a status quo that I had to

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In 2004 my life changed. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was twenty years old at the time, and I was a good student. I began feeling depressed and having memory issues. My grades began to slip. I knew something was wrong. I did a little research, and I concluded that I must have bipolar disorder. Mental illness runs in my family so I wasn’t scared to go to the mental health facility to seek help. Sure enough, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It has been a difficult twelve years. I have had many jobs. I have acted erratic and gone years without working due to depression. I’m thirty-two now, and I am on a cocktail of medication that is beginning to work. Hopefully, I’ll be working soon. Remember to never give up hope.

I am a 30-year-old female with bipolar disorder and I am here to share my story of living with this mental health condition.

By the age of 16 years old, I had probably been diagnosed with every mental illness out there and taken every medication possible. It wasn’t until I was 24 years old and in early recovery from addiction, that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It took me a long time to accept the fact that I had this diagnosis. No one understood what I was dealing with. I never knew if I would wake up happy or depressed. I did tons and tons of research on bipolar disorder and found that it is partially genetic, so I decided to do some digging and look into my family. I found out that my great grandmother had died by suicide at the age of 24. My father had told me he didn’t want me to know because he blamed himself for my mental illness.

I look back, and always ask, “why me?” I feel like I was hit with the stick that gave me a mental health condition and a substance abuse disorder. Being one of three girls, I always felt like the black sheep of my family. I was always messing up and getting into trouble, especially when I would become manic. To me, mania is an outer body experience and I loved the feeling. In a matter of two weeks I spent over $20,000 because of my mania.

I have learned that bipolar disorder is not my life—it’s just part of who I am. I am not shy about it and I do public speaking about my illness. Now at the age of 30, I am a licensed master social worker working with individuals with mental health conditions. Mental illness is not something we can help and education is the key factor in getting others to understand what we are dealing with. I am finally stable on my medication and am doing the best I have been in a long time.

Even though my life isn’t where I thought it would be, coming to terms with my bipolar disorder was a major accomplishment. Don’t get me wrong—I still have my ups and downs and I still have a lot of symptoms that are very difficult to manage. NAMI is such an amazing organization with everything they do and I want to thank NAMI for always providing services and educational material to better help understand and deal with bipolar disorder.

Remember, you are not your mental illness, it is just a part of you. Stay strong and don’t stop fighting.

As many do, I fought the idea of mental illness and medication. At 50, I finally accepted my diagnoses and began the journey towards stability. Learning all I could about my multiple diagnosises and what I could do to help myself I faithfully began treatment, never missing an appointment nor a dose of prescribed medication. 

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