For those of you who know me from chat, you'll know that I almost compulsively share most everything about myself. Even so, I realize by writing this how hard it is to be transparent on a public forum this big. It gives me a new respect for those who choose to open themselves up here. I don't mind advice, but frankly I've been looking for answers for almost 24 years and what I am really hoping for is to be seen. To be understood. I've tried to clip this as much as possible while still saying everything I want to say. You choose whether or not to read; I won't apologize for the length.

I can't seem to talk about my disorder without talking about my changing views of the world, and likewise my changing views of the world make the most sense in the context of my struggles with my disorder. The story of these is interwoven so tightly that I feel I must address them both.

Part I

It's hard to believe that when I was a kid, I was not just the most ambitious person I knew, I had confidence that I could become whoever I wanted. I thought of being both an astronaut and concert pianist. I wanted to try everything, and I was going to do everything. In some ways I was set up for success; I had a job since I was 14 and though I was slow, I was still thought of as one of the best employees. I have always been naturally inclined to think deeply about everything, and this helped me to develop a rich intelligence.

But there were other, more troubling signs. I started to realize that I had insane trouble staying with any task. Back then I told myself I lacked willpower. I had the desire but I needed discipline.

I still believed that when I went off to college, I would be one of the best students at the school. For a while, I was. Besides a major project that I dropped because it overwhelmed my perfectionistic nature, I was basically a straight A student. But the problems I had staying on task and caring too much about quality started to show in my grades.

At the end of 2010, I started dating a guy my family didn't like. As my family found out more about him, they liked him less and less until one night my dad called me at midnight and asked to meet with me the next day. He gave me an ultimatum: either I cut contact with this man or my parents would pull me out of school.

I only bring up this moment because it was the turning point for me. Through this relationship, it became obvious to everyone that I was starting to believe very different things about the world than my family did. When my dad came to some wrong conclusions about him, I chose to run away. I planned to find someone who could take me in, until a friend told me that my parents didn't have the authority to take me out of school. So, I got up the next day and went to class. From that moment on, my life would be about my decisions, my beliefs, not anyone else's.

My relationship with my family, already strained, then fell apart entirely. Before and after that day, I said terrible things to them. I fixated on one thing in particular that my dad said that day. When I said I was 21 years old and that my dad should respect me, he told me I couldn't do whatever I wanted, because I was still a dependent. I resolved then to become fully independent, as soon as possible. For two summers, I lived with people I'd never met. Even after it became clear that my ex was no good, for different reasons than my dad said that day, I resented the way my family had treated me.

During all this time, my grades and my jobs suffered. One summer I worked on the college grounds, and because of the stress my boss was under, I basically became the crew's whipping boy. For a while, every day at lunch I would tell myself I'd quit when I came back from break so I could look for another job. One day I did. But then, knowing there was no guarantee I'd find another job, I begged to come back immediately. Spring 2011 I took a job in the college kitchen. I was depressed. I started missing shifts. One day my manager told me I was missing too many shifts and we needed to have a meeting. Rather than face this, I decided to quit and focus on school. Besides a laid-back summer internship and a week-long stint for a blogging company that I quit for ethical reasons, I have never found a job since.

The semester my family and I were arguing over my boyfriend, I was taking a particularly hard honors course. I could never seem to get the reading done, and started skipping classes. I finally had to have a meeting with the professors. They said they had done the math, and there was no way I could pass it. It was too late to drop it. I told them I'd stop attending and use the time to focus on my other classes. The rest of my college career, I missed classes regularly, scraping by in most courses and failing others.

I was smart enough to have passed all of these courses with flying colors. That's what really got me; I should have been succeeding. This fact moved my Spanish professors enough to talk to me about it directly. They said, I was such an engaged student freshman year, what had happened, and I felt the disappointment in their voices. They invested so much in their students, and here I was, a mental dynamo with keen insight into the world and all the tools to succeed. And I just didn't.

Despite poor performance at school and work, I managed to stay sane enough to live for two summers away from my family. At that point I no longer had the funds to do it. I ashamedly asked my mom if I could move back in. Of course, she said. She understood that it was just because I had no other options. She said they would always be there for me.

I didn't make it out of college until 5 1/2 years after I started. My family celebrated with me, recognizing what a hard journey this had been.

Part II

Summer of 2013, I became close friends with two people I thought the world of. We formed a tight trio and made plans to do everything together. We were all poets. We all felt the world deeply. All three of us understood depression. It was perfect. But what I didn't then understand was that I was in a condition called "hypomania." It is a step below mania, and it was like this. I had met these two wonderful people, and the world was awash with color. I was happy and inordinately active. I couldn't stay still. But my two friends were hardly anything but still. They were beaten down by the world like I was, but worse. When we got close, one of them groaned because "You can't commit suicide when you have good friends." Maybe we saved a life that summer. But my heightened state of being got out of hand. I started to feel like an afterthought, and wanted too much from them. The two of them were best friends and I felt like a tag along, even though they valued me deeply. So, I eventually told them I would stop hanging out with them "as a group". Our trio fell apart. My friends, already fragile and broken down by life, began to suffer. And I was not there to help them. The thing in my life I regret the absolute most is not being there for them. I've tried to reform the friendships, but it has been long, hard, and not nearly as successful as I wish.

That. Was what made me finally accept I had a problem. One of these two friends had already suggested I was bipolar, but I balked at the idea. I eventually believed it was true, but still winced at the idea of taking medication for it. My mom pointed to my long history of trying so hard, only to fall back into long periods of inactivity and sadness. She told me that it was okay to have outside help. And slowly I began to believe that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't that I needed to try harder. Eventually I began to accept that understanding a problem was the first step to dealing with it.

I finally saw a doctor and told him that I thought I had type II bipolar disorder. After asking about my symptoms, he wrote down his diagnosis on a piece of paper and prescribed me antidepressants. It was a landmark in my journey of accepting myself. I understood then that what I needed was to accept my shortcomings and learn different ways to manage a disorder that I will probably have for the rest of my life.

It has been a long journey. I went through about six different medications and eventually - no, finally, got in to see a psychiatrist. He was able to prescribe me better meds that were more specifically for bipolar disorder. Despite the horror stories I can tell you about being on meds that are a bad fit, I am firmly and unabashedly pro medication. It took me a long time to get here. But now that I am here, I don't expect to go anywhere. It doesn't solve my problems; I am having to work to fight a lifetime of bad habits and self-defeating thought. But I am emotionally more stable than before.

I am still leading a double life. Somewhere along this journey I discovered that I wasn't quite straight, and finally put a name to my gender insecurities I was born with. I am pansexual and transgender, and proud of who I am. But I still live at home, and have not come out to my parents. Above all, I fear the reaction my dad will have.

I am proud of the beliefs I have come to have about the world. I switched from an Evangelical perspective to Episcopal, and the way I view the Bible, salvation and God is quite different than the people I've spent 23 years with. I believe I am closer to the truth than I once was. I am still open to modifying many of my views, but whatever I have built, whatever I have come to understand or believe, it is my own. I am my own.

The amount of time I have gone jobless is taking its toll on me. It's very hard to maintain any sort of schedule, and after searching for a while I began to lose confidence that I had anything that people were looking for in this economy. I'm too well-educated for Wal-Mart or fast food places and too emotionally unstable for the jobs for which I am qualified. I stopped job searching altogether, with a plan to make my own website and have an income from running ads on the site. Instead, I've ended up in in a constant battle, fighting my own self sabotage.

Whenever I make progress, something comes to tear it all down. Even if that something is something within myself. All the heartache and failure of the past five years has taken its toll, as well. In five years I've had four failed relationships, nearly flunked my way out of college, and created a toxic relationship with my family from which I am still recovering. Jobless, disenfranchised, and with little confidence in my ability to improve my situation, I am the quintessential drifting millennial.

But. One small part of me still hopes. That someday, I'll be able to live transparently with all my friends and family. One day we'll learn to talk civilly about everything, and not just the bits of me that are easier to admit. Someday I'll have my own apartment, my own job, my own car. Or even if not these things, I will live stably, and with purpose.

For now, I have my friends. People I have not yet seriously hurt, and people who have taken the pain and still associate with me. You all help me want to do more than survive. Thank you.

~Fin

I want you to know I don't intend to glorify myself with my problems. I am not trying to paint my life as harder than anyone else's. Everyone has their own story; everyone experiences heartache and failure. But this one is mine, and that makes it worth telling.

This is a story about the three of us
Down by the water and the tide is rising
This world is burning and I'm terrified
I need a little more time with you
I just need a little more time with you
- Aqualung, "Broken Bones"

I really like this post. I may not have told you much, but this means a lot to me, that you shared your story, and I like it. I hope you continue being strong, and I really hope your dream comes true. Of living in stability and with a purpose. That seems like a very nice goal to have. I really am glad I met you, you have been a big influence in my life, wether it seems like it or not.

I'm glad you took the time to write all of this out, I'm sure in ways it was therapeutic for you as well so that's a double positive. I know you said you tried to shorten the length but don't be afraid to get everything off you mind and written down, it's easier when you have everything sorted out like that. I know we have talked, albeit not very much recently and while that is also my fault I do apologize, my schedule lately has been so out of whack I don't know when I'll around and when I won't. But my main point in bringing that up is you know I don't have exact answers, but you still have me. You have come a long way from the beginning so don't forget about that, you have made progress. 

maguc : Thank you so much. Whatever my influence is, I hope it's a good one and doesn't involve forgetting to eat for hours and not showering. Thank you for your wishes; just knowing that you want that for me helps me want to be strong.

styrofoamboots : Thank you. It was good for me to write this out, I think. As far as your schedule being crazy, absolutely no worries. I'm fine with just about any level of interaction in friendships. (This sometimes causes problems for me. Oops.) I'm glad I can talk to you about these things; it's hard sometimes thinking I'm a whiny person.

Edit: Double post. Oops.

I had heard little bits and pieces of your story, but never the whole picture; so I'm glad you made this post. I can't say I know how you feel, as has been the opposite of yours, but I am able to understand what it must be like being in your shoes, and I know you are not alone.