Personal Stories

Since I am diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder, antipsychotics are a big part of my treatment. I am also, however, one of the 500,000 people who got tardive dyskinesia (TD) from antipsychotics.

So, I had a bad year and fell off the beaten path. I came back a fighter and now speak openly for others in any way I can. I’m still doing well. There is always hope.

I’ve never publicly told my story. In college I feared my peers would view me as a freak. As a professional I worry disclosure can cost me opportunities. This is why I’m speaking out. I want to be part of the solution that ends the stigma.

Stigma is a huge barrier on why many people don’t seek help. We don’t want to be judged for seeking treatment. We don’t want to be defined as weak or incompetent, or even worse, seen as unable to take care of ourselves. 

When I tell people I have bipolar disorder, I act all nonchalant about it. Some people are shocked, not because I am mentally ill, but because I don’t “show signs.”

So I fight: I drag myself to yoga when I feel as though I can barely muster the strength to lift my head and I talk to my friends when I want nothing more than to lock myself in my room for a week.

If we come together, despite all the hate, we can spread love and save so many lives. It’s sometimes just as simple as a smile. Be a listening ear, strike up a conversation with someone, volunteer your time and resources—nothing is too small.

Bipolar disorder doesn’t define me. There are also many good qualities that I have. I am passionate. I am adventurous. I am inquisitive. I am empathic. I am creative. Most importantly, I am strong.

In 2014, I stumbled upon an organization that not only helped me shed my fear of disclosure, but also gave my family our long-awaited sigh of relief. I found NAMI.

To my family: thank you for encouraging me to seek help and for reassuring me that it’s okay to take medication for depression because it is, after all, caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain.