I was officially diagnosed by a therapist when I was seventeen but had fought against it for over a year. I was brought in to be tested for psychoactive drugs because I was exhibiting strange behavior in high school, but I refused to take the tests. When I finally relented and took them, they found that I was exhibiting all the signs of bipolar disorder. The news of my diagnosis threw me into a tailspin and I started refusing to get out of bed or even get dressed. My parents put me in a psychiatric hospital for treatment, and it was the first time I had ever been away from my family for more than a night. The experience was horrible, but I had to stay there for a month or two. When I got out, I had a much better attitude and realized that my mental illness was not going to be the worst thing that ever happened to me. It was a lot of work, but I was able to overcome it and get back on track.