Best Bipolar Memoirs Novels & Stories

"My love—" "I was breaking. I was breaking and becoming crazy and I was driving everyone around me crazy too. So they forced me to a psychiatrist who diagnosed me with Bipolar Disorder. I was admitted to the rehab, or the mental hospital if you must," I said,"And I stayed there for months. They helped me think and reflect and helped me heal." "Oh dear," Cameron said, pressing a kiss to my forehead,"You're the strongest person I know, for sure. You make me want to be a better person, really."

“What brings you here today?” He hesitated, the words catching in his throat, but he pushed through. “I… I’ve been struggling with some things. I think I have bipolar disorder. I have these… episodes, where I feel like I’m not in control of myself, where I do things that I regret.” His voice wavered, but he continued. “I almost lost someone important to me because of it.”

“I told you all this from the start, I begged you and tried to convince you not to leave them for exactly these reasons, and now you’re going to come to me and pretend like it was your realization and your idea?” “If that’s the way you want to view it, go right ahead.” I mutter, knowing how bipolar I must seem to her. In truth I feel a bit bipolar too - then again, the kind of trauma we’ve been through can jumble even the stablest person’s mind. “Now do we have a deal, or not?”

He swayed on his feet. "I was your cure, wasn't I?" I walked up to him, looking down at the man on his knees. "When you woke up in the middle of the night wanting to cut yourself, I would hold you and tell you everything was going to be alright." "When your bipolar disorder made you lose control, I swallowed your rage and cooked your favorite pasta." "When your demons took over and you needed a release, I opened my legs and let you find comfort in my body." "But Victor," I crouched down to look him dead in the eyes, "the only medicine in this world that could cure your darkness was poured down the drain by you. You didn't just lose a wife. You personally destroyed the only believer willing t

Enveloped by such love, I virtually forgot the pain of my past life. I worked hard in my studies, always being at the top of the class since grade school, with every type of trophy and certificate lining the cabinets in my room. After I finished high school, I didn't hesitate to pursue medical school. In the end, I knew that Susie's illness would always be the Grant family's kryptonite and the blade of a guillotine that still loomed over me. Nevertheless, in twenty years, I became the youngest and most famous surgeon and researcher in medicine.

Whenever he was triggered, he lashed out, harming and beating those around him. I had endured five years of suffering at his hands, his manic episodes leaving countless scars across my body. And even though his violence broke me, I still felt pity when the mania subsided and he appeared helpless and remorseful. I searched tirelessly across the world for a psychiatrist who might cure his mania. But his condition never improved—instead, he ended up having an affair with his psychiatrist. A month ago, I managed to find Amy Becker, a famous psychiatrist, to treat Mason's bipolar disorder. Amy had even moved in with us so that she could treat him better.

Thankfully, before I became insane and kill myself to death, I met my best friends, they're my savior. Lauren Dayne Wofford and Haliyah Isabella James are my long time friends. I accidentally bumped into them when I was running to nowhere that night, they confronted me, comforted me, looked after me. That time my whole world collapsed, hope and courage left me, all I wanted was to end the my useless alone life. I stayed like a living dead, unspeakable, unreadable but they didn't give up, they gave me the light of future, they gave me hints of the wonderful tomorrow, eternally grateful I am for what they did.

“I have bipolar disorder, Noah. I was diagnosed when you were young. Actually before you were born. I didn’t get the help I needed because… your father wouldn’t let me.” I blinked at her in shock, as my tongue became a brick in my mouth. She went on, tears welling in her eyes. “He thought it was shameful. That therapy and meds would make me worse. So I tried to pretend I was okay. I wasn’t. I was spiraling. I missed your events. I snapped at you. Sometimes I didn’t get out of bed. And when I did get help, it was too late—you were already gone.”

Working as an advocate for mental health, speaking about her obsession and recovery, helping others with similar struggles. “I destroyed my life over someone who didn’t love me,” she told audiences. “Spent years obsessing over a fantasy relationship. Ended up hospitalized, medicated, nearly destroyed.” She’d written a memoir “Obsession: My Journey from Delusion to Recovery” about her stalking, hospitalization, and eventual healing. It was brutally honest about her mental illness and the harm she’d caused. The book found unexpected audience others who’d struggled with obsessive behaviors, families trying to understand mental illness, people navigating recovery.

**** In the hospital, the Doctor was reading Cristofer's medical examination report carefully. With a worried expression on his face, he asked, “Mr. Hans, have you taken excessive doses of sleeping pills before?” “Yes.” “According to your medical records, you suffered from bipolar disorder before. Did you take sleeping pills when you had an attack of manic depression?” the Doctor asked. “Yes,” Cristofer acknowledged with a nod. “During that period... I attempted suicide on several occasions.” Startled, the Doctor’s eyes widened, and he inquired, “How many times?”