For a long time after I was first diagnosed, I thought it would be better to go it alone.
My parents never mentioned it to me, or my sister, or the handful of friends who knew about it. So, as long as I didn’t bring it up to anyone new, it would be pretty easy to do it alone.
From the time I was 17 until I was 22 I was completely silent about anything that had happened in my past, the suicide attempt, the hospitalization, the diagnosis. Only for a brief period in there was I medicated. And for the most part I was in remission. I would have depressive flare-ups every so often, but the amount of work I was doing for school, plus working, plus living in an apartment, plus trying to have a social life, everything just kind of stayed at bay.