My first bipolar episodes began when I was 18 years old during my senior year of high school. I had moved to a new town, and I believe it was this stress that brought me into a manic state. I was talking to everyone, making jokes, and making so many friends, I couldn't remember all of their names. It was incredible – all night I would stay up writing letters, painting, drawing and descending into madness. It soon became unbearable. After school, I would run so I could get rid of all my energy.

While all this was happening, my family life was also crumbling. One weekend my mother went out of town and during this time, I was molested by my father. I then started to do nothing but eat and sleep. These were my only comforts. I felt trapped and severely depressed. I became a completely different person, and everyone was stunned to see this difference. It seemed like the depression lasted forever. I couldn't deal with anything, and I missed a lot of school.

Soon it was time for college, which was good because I was away from all the family drama and could concentrate on myself. Things were going great at the beginning. Little did I know I was starting hypomania. Once again, I was gaining friends and boyfriends. I would spend all night doing art projects and going out. It really was a great time, but it started to spiral out of control.

During finals week, I was really burnt out. During my math final, I started hearing voices. I ran out of the final and went back to my dorm. My roommate was gone at the time, which made things worse. I was an animal trapped in a cage. I was racing and pacing around the room thinking of different ways to kill myself. Then my roommate walked in, because a girl a couple doors down from me had phoned her and told her I was acting strange. Soon after that, my best friend walked in and took me outside. I was running in front of cars crying, then laughing. I was in a mixed state, which is the worst state of all. My best friend really didn't know what to do. He just stayed with me let me know he wasn’t going anywhere. We went back to his dorm room after we had walked and ridden buses for awhile. I smoked cigarette after cigarette to keep my head from spinning.

The next morning my roommate took me to a mental hospital, where I spent winter break. It was there that I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I was very scared, but it helped to know that there was a name for all of the madness. I researched the illness and found that many poets and artists had the same thing.

I returned to school, embarrassed and isolated. I went into a depression. I then decided to move to California to get away from it all, but I was still in a depression. I came home because my mom got a divorce, and things became worse. I entered into a horrible manic state and attempted suicide. I took pills and drove until I feel asleep. Later I found out that I was at a church and two church ladies had saved my life.

I couldn’t walk, I had to take charcoal and I had a catheter. My friend came to visit me at the hospital, which was very comforting. But I became worse after I got out. I became so manic that I thought I was Jesus' wife. I cut off all my hair and walked around preaching to people. I would read the Bible day and night and was convinced I was the One. I then went to a Catholic Church and preached in front of a whole crowd. I thought that people were supposed to worship me and I got very angry because no one understood. Eventually the police picked me up and I was once again in the mental hospital – the second of four trips there.

I still have nightmares about all of this. I'm embarrassed to go out in my town. This all happened 6 months ago and was one of the worst experiences of my life. Now I'm stable, but I still feel depressed. I think the only thing I'm really afraid of is my mind. It's still a struggle everyday, but it helps to know that I'm not alone.

I just wanted to share my story to let others know they aren't alone either. Now I'm working and getting ready to go to school in the fall to study psychology to help others like me.

To those of you who are reading this, don't ever think that suicide is the answer, because it isn't. Although it may not seem like it, life really is a gift and the storm will pass. Just as we have seasons of fall, winter, spring and summer, this is how we live as well. God bless you all.