A few weeks ago, my therapist suggested I have bipolar II, and after thinking about it - I talked to my doctor. He agrees, and he prescribed lamotrigen last week. Perhaps it's the new medication, but I'm bummed about this. I'm happy there's an answer to my instability. I've done well. I've overcome a lot of adversity (without even considering I was bipolar), graduated college in four years (statistically unlikely for me demographically, not counting mental illness), and I've overcome addiction and PTSD. I'm way more confident and happy. I have a great job. Life's great.

There's just one thing bugging me.

A month ago, I thought I could finally resolve my mental health issues. Now, I know they'll never go away. Absolutely nothing about myself has changed. It's a label. I'm taking a medication. No one needs to know because no one's noticed anyway.

 I'm just disappointed.

I know it'll be okay. The medication will let me live the life I want. I'm going to achieve my hypomanic goals (they're reasonable but require a lot of work), and I'll continue to thrive. I just need to let it out. I'm fucking disappointed. I do not want this. 

I will live with it. I have not let it stop me, and now I'm using powerful tools to tame this beast. I wish I didn't have to. But that's not up to me.