I’m not bipolar. I have bipolar disorder.

I was picking up my medicine from the pharmacy. The black woman at the window leaned forward and asked if it works. I was confused for a second, but then it clicked. She was talking about the ADD medicine I was picking up. I told her that I’ve been on it for 20 years and yes, it works. She then asked me how I knew that I needed it. I explained the many challenges I experience, and she said she feels the same way. But between her parents and her husband, she’s never been able to pursue treatment.

I felt honored knowing that I could be a source of validation and encouragement for another black woman. It reminded me that many of us have struggled with mental health in secret.

Spoiler alert: Not only do I have ADD, I am a black woman living with bipolar disorder. I’ve never met another black woman living with bipolar disorder. I know they exist, but we don’t really talk about it in our community because “that’s nobody’s business.”

There was a time in the past when I felt the stigma. Then at some point—I don’t remember when—I realized there was nothing to be ashamed of. I didn’t choose to have it, and I can’t make it go away. I can’t ignore it because I have to pop a pill for it every morning. So why make an effort to keep something secret that I fully embrace as part of my identity?

Television shows have definitely worked against me in many ways. Society’s perceptions about bipolar disorder include people who are unstable, make impulsive decisions, lock themselves away in bedrooms for days at a time, create chaos for their family and friends, go to mental hospitals, and are just completely unable to function. And it’s disappointing because so many of us thrive while managing bipolar disorder. We go to therapy, we get treatment, we take our medicine, we learn coping mechanisms, we become self-aware, and we have productive lives . 

I was diagnosed in my early 20’s, and felt a myriad of emotions. But the doctor said one thing that still offers comfort to this day. She said bipolar disorder just means that your brain needs help from medicine to function properly. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. She compared it to a pancreas that needs helps. Diabetics have to take medicine every day and stay diligent with managing their blood sugar. They have to monitor their diets and have a plan in place to get help if needed. And when diabetes is well-managed, people live well.

Bipolar disorder is the same. It looks different for every individual. Some people are more prone to depression and others are more prone to mania. We have different triggers. We respond to medications differently. But when well-managed, you’d never know we have this mental health disorder. 

I’m a divorced, single mom with a full-time job. I’ve completed two graduate degrees. I own my house and pay my bills. I chaperone field trips and travel the world. I have great relationships with my family and friends. I have a full life. If I didn’t tell anyone I have bipolar disorder, they’d never know.

Not to say that it has been easy. I had a very rough start, and my life still ebbs and flows just like the next person. Even with all of the treatment and resources at my disposal, self-awareness and humility are necessary to make sure my mood doesn’t go too far in either direction. I have to acknowledge when something feels off and be humble in asking for help when I need it. But it’s not something that crosses my mind on a regular basis.

Bipolar disorder isn’t a curse. It’s a condition. It doesn’t define me or handicap me or make me less than another person. It’s just a part of who I am—happy go lucky, sometimes completely over it all, ME.