Bipolar and the Fear of Stigma
Navigating Society’s Judgment
Jasmine was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in her mid-twenties, a time in her life when she was supposed to be building her career, friendships, and future. But instead of feeling excited about the possibilities ahead, she found herself battling extreme mood swings that left her emotionally exhausted. At times, she would experience euphoric highs—periods of mania where she felt invincible, full of energy, and capable of anything. She would start multiple projects, fill her days with a whirlwind of activity, and sleep only a few hours a night, feeling as though she could conquer the world. But the mania was deceptive, masking the chaos that was brewing beneath the surface.
Just as quickly as the mania came, it would vanish, plunging Jasmine into deep, overwhelming depression. These lows were unbearable. She found it difficult to get out of bed, let alone function in her daily life. The smallest tasks, like brushing her teeth or responding to a text message, felt insurmountable. The depression drained her of all energy, joy, and motivation, leaving her feeling empty and hopeless. In these moments, it was hard to imagine that just weeks ago, she had felt on top of the world.
Living with bipolar disorder was a constant balancing act for Jasmine, trying to navigate the extreme highs and lows without letting them consume her. But what she found most difficult wasn’t the illness itself—it was the stigma that came with it. Mental illness, especially something as complex as bipolar disorder, is often misunderstood. Jasmine quickly learned that even well-meaning friends and family didn’t always know how to react or offer support. Some distanced themselves, unsure of how to handle the unpredictability of her mood swings, while others brushed off her diagnosis, offering advice like "just think positive" or "try not to let it get to you," as if her condition were a simple matter of willpower.
Jasmine tried to hide her diagnosis for as long as she could, fearing that people would see her differently. She worried that they would think of her as unreliable or unstable, unable to handle her responsibilities. The stigma surrounding bipolar disorder made her feel ashamed, as though she needed to apologise for something she had no control over. Even when she managed her symptoms well, she was haunted by the fear that others might define her by her diagnosis rather than seeing the whole person she was.
At work, Jasmine became particularly skilled at masking her mood swings, carefully hiding her depression behind forced smiles and empty reassurances that she was "fine." During her manic phases, she channelled the energy into her projects, often receiving praise for her productivity. But no one saw the exhaustion that followed—the crash, when the mania subsided and left her feeling completely depleted. She was terrified that if her colleagues knew the truth, they would see her as a liability, not an asset.
The hardest part for Jasmine was the loneliness that stigma created. Even though she had friends and family who cared for her, she often felt as though she was living two lives—the one she presented to the world, and the one she lived in secret, managing the complexities of bipolar disorder on her own. She longed for people to understand that bipolar disorder didn’t define her, that she was still the same Jasmine they knew before the diagnosis. She wanted to be seen for her strength in managing a mental illness, rather than being pitied or misunderstood.
Jasmine eventually sought out support from others who lived with bipolar disorder, finding solace in a community that truly understood her experiences. In group therapy, she met people who had been through similar highs and lows, and for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to hide or explain herself. There, she found the understanding and acceptance that had been missing in other areas of her life. With their support, Jasmine began to reclaim her identity, no longer defined by her diagnosis but empowered by the resilience it took to manage it every day.
Her story is a powerful reminder of the damaging effects of societal stigma on people living with mental illness. The fear of being judged, misunderstood, or marginalised often makes it harder for individuals to seek help or speak openly about their struggles. Bipolar disorder, like many mental health conditions, is complex and challenging, but it doesn’t diminish the worth or capability of those who live with it.
Jasmine’s experience highlights the urgent need for greater awareness and empathy. Mental health isn’t a character flaw, and people like Jasmine deserve to be supported, not stigmatised. Her journey is a testament to the strength it takes to live with bipolar disorder and the importance of finding understanding communities that foster healing and self-acceptance.