I was 17 and had just graduated from high school. A stellar athlete and student, I was on my way to either being a professional athlete or going to college. But everything came crashing down a few months after my graduation.

I was competing in a number of sporting competitions, almost sure to win, but I didn’t. Instead I had a breakdown and could not stop crying. I don’t remember much after the breakdown. Everything is just a blur of bits and pieces. But I do remember my mind being in overdrive, my energy being like an Energizer Bunny and not sleeping or eating. My erratic behavior worried everyone around me.

A month after my breakdown I found myself being dragged to the hospital by my parents and cops. There, I resisted group sessions, medications and everything else. Two weeks there seemed like an eternity, especially when I really didn’t know what was the matter with me. After my release from the hospital, my doctor met with me and told me I had bipolar disorder. I could not give two mint toothpicks about anything he was saying.

The medications made me terribly sick and one of them prevented me from practicing in the sun. I lost ambition and soon I quit the sport at which I had once excelled. By doing that, I lost the opportunity to get a full university scholarship. All I wanted was peace and quiet. All this happened when I was 17-18 and it took me about three years to get a grip on life again.

I’m more stable now. I’ve completed almost two years of university and have managed to maintain a very high GPA as a philosophy and linguistics major. Friends tell me that I’m weird (but in a good way) and that most people are intrigued about my everything-but-ordinary perspective on life.

I don’t have any regrets about quitting my sport. I work one job during the school year and two or sometimes even three during the summer to pay for my school and living expenses. Life actually is more relaxing when I’m not always in the competitive mode. I play some street hockey and ride my bike but I do stay away from my former favorite sport because I feel like it was the expectations and pressure that came with that sport that helped to trigger my breakdown.

I also draw and paint. It’s all just a reflection of my mood swings, really, but nevertheless people want to frame my works and take pictures of them. I’m constantly writing something in my head. About a month ago I came in contact with a literary agent that’s interested in the book I’ve started writing.

I’m not so close with my family simply because I don’t let too many people get close to me. But I do want to thank my parents for sticking with me through every hellish dish I served them with my behavior.