It all started when I was born. My mother would take me to the doctor and swear that there was something wrong with me. The doctor would laugh and say, "She's too young!" As I grew up, year after year, my mother would defend my childish and inappropriate behavior to my family by saying, "She can't help it." I also knew there was something wrong. Why did I feel that my life had a higher purpose? Why did I feel the need to save the world from all of its imperfections?

When I was 13 or so, I told my mother I was suicidal. I got counseling and I was supposedly cured. About two years later, I overdosed on muscle-relaxants. I remember that morning well. I woke up feeling happy. Why happy? I may never know. I walked down the stairs, holding onto the wall and railing, saying, "Mom... Mom... wake up... I can't breathe..." That day I was hospitalized, but the next month, I tried to end my life all over again.

After my second hospitalization, on a high dosage of medication, I thought I was fine. I stayed on the medications for about a year, then slowly, gradually, little by little, weaned myself off of them. By June 2003 I was totally off the medications because I thought I was cured. I was happy, thinking "clearly" and altogether well. Then the symptoms started coming back.

Little by little the symptoms devoured me. The sounds, the voices, the visions, the messages, the hyperactivity, the euphoria, the restlessness, the racing thoughts and actions, the distractions, the horrific judgment, loss of personal morals, risky behavior, excessive sex drive, backward speech and thoughts, the loss of friends, and the inability to associate with the outside world. I had an inner voice telling me, "Hey, what are you doing talking to people? What do you think you’re doing? You’re wasting your time! Lock the doors! Don’t answer that phone!"

I was beginning to feel that my purpose on this earth was to be something like a saint or warrior goddess. I had to go gather troops and basically I thought I had to save the world. I believed I was someone or something else and I was lost in a world deep inside my imagination that I never knew existed.

Over the course of a week, I lost all of my friends and the trust of my family. I was my only support. I was all I had, and I was happy with that. I was in space! I didn't need anything more.

I suddenly became frightened one day. I sat there, and fell into a deep state of panic. The voices, and the people and sounds and smells and visions -- they all worried and scared me.

I went to see my regular doctor saying that I had an earache. (I did, but it wasn't that bad.) The doctor stepped in. "So, this visit wasn't really for the earache, was it?" she asked. I shook my head blushing, nervous to tell her my story, but it was too late to turn back. I began by stuttering out something. She took that quite well. I then felt panic, and pain like I’ve never felt before. I was telling her that my thoughts and beliefs had been wrong all along. I was admitting to her and to myself that my view of the world was wrong – the world wasn't everything my brain made it out to be. Being in the midst of mania and panicking at the same time, my words most likely didn't make too much sense, but the tears and the laughter and repeated words, "I'm scared," told her in no uncertain terms that there was something wrong and she needed to help me.

When I went to the emergency room for evaluations and assessments everyone assumed I had schizophrenia. I ended up in the hospital late that night with a security camera and frequent check-ups.

The hospital visit, over all, was the best I'd had. There, they finally correctly diagnosed me with bipolar disorder, and educated me with everything they could possibly teach me about it. I felt comfortable just knowing that there was a name for why I am the way I am. It helped my family, too. It helped my father understand that I can't help the things I say and do sometimes. My mother, though she knew all along, took it all in stride and learned everything she could about the disorder and what she can do to help me.