Disclaimer: This article is based on research and insights from credible medical professionals, publications, and institutions. It is intended for educational purposes only and is not a substitute for professional diagnosis or treatment. If you believe you may be experiencing symptoms of bipolar disorder, please consult a qualified healthcare provider.

As someone diagnosed with bipolar disorder II, I sometimes feel like my mind and body are not my own. Depressive episodes can become overwhelmingly intense, leaving me questioning my very existence. Why was I born? Why do I have to suffer? These moments can feel isolating, as though I’m drowning in sorrow with no lifeline in sight.

When a hypomanic episode strikes—less severe than full mania but still powerful—I feel invincible. I take on ten tasks in a single day, fueled by a sudden burst of energy. In those moments, I genuinely believe I could become the president, despite having no political background. My sense of ability becomes exaggerated; I’m convinced that nothing is beyond my reach. 

But that’s the paradox of bipolar disorder—soaring one moment, crashing the next. It’s exhausting. At times, I feel like I’m malfunctioning. Julie A. Fast and John Preston, authors of Take Charge of Bipolar Disorder, describe the condition as being “like a leaf blown in the wind by some unseen force” (Fast & Preston, 2023).

These extreme highs and lows not only affect me internally but also confuse those around me. Since adolescence, I’ve been labeled “crazy”—a stigma that has followed me into adulthood. No matter how I present myself, the misconceptions surrounding bipolar disorder persist. 

I’ve overheard colleagues and acquaintances use “bipolar” as a punchline, casually labeling unpredictable behavior as if it were a personality quirk rather than a serious medical condition. I’ve even heard someone say, “I don’t want to be friends with her anymore because she’s bipolar,” after their friend required police intervention during a mental health crisis.

Moments like that remind me why so many people with bipolar disorder hesitate to disclose their diagnosis. We fear being dismissed, misunderstood, or judged. Harmful stereotypes remain widespread, particularly in media and casual conversations. Based on my experience, some of the most damaging misconceptions include:

• “Bipolar people are just crazy.” This strips away the complexity of the disorder and reduces it to a caricature.

• “It’s just mood swings.” In reality, bipolar disorder includes dramatic shifts in energy, motivation, and cognition—not just emotions.

• “You can pray this condition away.” Faith can be healing, but bipolar disorder is a medical condition, not a spiritual failing.

• “Take the medication, and you’ll be fine.” Medication helps, but managing bipolar disorder often requires therapy, lifestyle changes, and self-awareness.

Dr. Wes Burgess reports in The Bipolar Handbook: Real-Life Questions with Up-to-Date Answers that society also glorifies certain symptoms of mania—like boundless energy, workaholism, minimal sleep, and hypersexuality—especially in hustle culture (Burgess, 2006). People may see someone with bipolar disorder and say, “You’re always smiling—you must be doing great,” unaware of the internal chaos that smile might be concealing. This glamorization and misunderstanding deepen the stigma.

From a religious perspective, my Southern Baptist upbringing in the Deep South taught me to turn to prayer in difficult times. I’ve spent countless hours in church, crying out for peace. While my faith remains a source of strength, I’ve also come to understand that bipolar disorder is not something I can simply pray away. Over the years, I’ve tried several medications—Lexapro, Remeron, Abilify—prescribed by board-certified psychiatrists. They’ve helped manage my symptoms, but they’re only one piece of a much broader journey toward stability.

Stigma creates silence—especially in marginalized communities. Many of us fear that speaking openly could affect our careers, friendships, or the way our loved ones perceive us. If society keeps labeling us, why would we feel safe enough to share our stories?

I’ve been actively working toward healing, but healing is not linear. I’ve quit drinking, started eating healthier, committed to exercise, deepened my spirituality, and surrounded myself with uplifting music. These changes have helped, but I know that each person’s path looks different. Whatever your path is, honor it—because bipolar disorder is a lifelong condition that requires compassion, understanding, and care (Mayo Clinic, n.d.).

And remember: bipolar disorder is a part of you, not the whole of you. You are more than a diagnosis. You are a human being—with gifts, goals, and the right to love, support, and grace.

References:

Mayo Clinic. (n.d.). Bipolar disorder – Diagnosis and Treatment. Mayo Clinic. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/bipolar-disorder/diagnosis-treatment/drc-20355961#:~:text=Bipolar%20disorder%20is%20a%20lifelong,away%20to%20balance%20your%20moods.