I’m a daughter, a sister, a niece and a friend. I’m a designer and creative and a dreamer of dreams. But all that changed in the Spring of 2015. “I believe you have Bi-Polar” is what I was told. These words still ring in my ears. This ongoing depression and lack of sleep and all around craziness finally had a name… Bi-Polar…. Why did it have to be that? Why couldn’t it just be that my anxiety and depression was just in overdrive and I needed some R&R? Why did I have to have the one thing that people don’t understand and say “God she’s so Bi-Polar!” and put this stamp on you that you are crazy? I cried for days. My then Husband didn’t take it well either. “Are you sure? Can we get a second opinion?” like I had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness. But it felt like I had been told about this with no way out. Like I had been damned. I knew nothing about how this journey was going to go or even start. I had no idea about the ups and downs that I would face almost daily or how little people understand about this mental illness. Or how little I knew about myself and my illness. This is my ongoing journey. This is me.