When I first got the diagnosis of Bipolar, I felt two things.
First, I was scared. I watched my mother suffer through the same thing for a long time and the disease scared the shit out of me. I did not want to go through that, and I did not know there were other options.
Second, I felt validated. It felt very comforting to have a doctor look at you and tell you that all of the suffering and pain was, at least in part, due to a disease. Everything I went through was real, I didn’t make it all up. Everything I went through was diagnosable.