Author: Lexie Manion

In 2019, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after a serious episode and hospitalization. I’ve been thankful to have found the right regimen of medications and support to keep me well. My medications especially help me as I trust to always return to my baseline. Ever since that year, I returned to college as a 24-year-old, graduated in 2024, and then began pursuing my Master’s degree. This journey has challenged me in many ways over the years, but I’ve remained anchored in my values and faithful to my freedom. 

Early on in 2025, I began finding unexpected support from a professor in my MA of Art Therapy program. Shortly after, I found allyship in a classmate as well. They’ve become my lifelines; they make me feel safe and like I am easy to love. Now, more than halfway through my program, I see how deeply their support has carried me; it has not only been essential for my professional growth, but also to my healing journey.

Adding on their support to my thriving network of family and friends who love me and understand me wholeheartedly has been meaningful. I find it important to hold multiple avenues of support. And I’m constantly learning balance in how often I reach out to each support person, as echoed by my previous struggle of constant communication in hypomania. 

Establishing My Safeguards

I see it as my responsibility to keep those closest to me aware of my bipolar disorder diagnosis. I see it as holding safe zones for myself. For six years, I’ve been mostly well, with a couple blips of depression or hypomania in the past. Now, I haven’t experienced a mood episode in over a year. Even if I don’t struggle to the same extent I did in the past again, it matters to me to feel safe. 

I feel a deep sense of safety settle into my spirit when I know the people closest to me are attentive, watching over my well-being with care and intention. With the right support around me, it doesn’t feel like scrutiny or judgment; it truly feels like a shared commitment — a system of accountability rooted in trust, rather than fear of me failing. 

My support system, including my mentors, makes me feel profoundly believed in, sometimes even more than I feel I believe in myself. They recognize my caution and mindfulness, but they also see the effort I put in through the way I keep showing up to life and doing the work. Because of that, I never sense doubt in their eyes. Instead, I feel grace in their thoughtful presence and motivation rising from their encouraging words. I trust them and they trust me. 

My Warning Signs

One of the most familiar signals of struggle for me, notably connected to manic episodes, was paranoia. In the stability I have today, I feel grounded, gentle, and at ease in my relationships. However, if I begin to question the intentions of someone who has consistently supported me, or feel as though they’ve somehow turned against me, I recognize that shift as a warning sign to reach out for help. In the past, those thoughts caused me to retreat inward, shutting down as everything around me felt overwhelming and closing in. Because my relationships are generally steady and low in conflict, this kind of withdrawal would feel sudden to others. 

I have a strong awareness of my behaviors today, but I recognize that clarity can falter in a lack of wellness. For that reason, I place pieces of my story in the hands of those closest to me, trusting them to notice what I may miss and to call me back to myself if I begin to drift.

Moving Forward With Clarity and Compassion

Now that I better understand my diagnosis of bipolar disorder, there’s a sense of clarity in recognizing the patterns that once felt confusing. I know what to watch for, and I know how to respond if those signs begin to surface again. Equipped with the support of myself and those closest to me, I feel as though the world is my oyster. I have so much going for me and so much I am ready to excitedly take on. 

In the recovery community, we often talk about “waiting for the other shoe to drop” with bipolar disorder, which is the understanding that relapse needs to be considered and that being proactive in self-care is essential. I know my support systems, including medications, may require adjustments and will continue to evolve over time, but at this moment in time, I feel that I have everything I need. 

We never know when we will discover a new pearl to add to our bracelet of hope, which is why choosing to reach out and reach within are the very essence of living a life worth living. A luminescence of moonlight, pulled from the deep, now rests against the “love” tattoo on my wrist as I step into a new day.