When I look back at old family photo albums, I see a little girl who looks hollow and vacant. I now understand why. My parents didn’t have the tools to help me. Like many from their generation, they lacked the vocabulary and empathy we now have around mental health. By the time I hit adolescence, I was emotionally unstable. I believe I had my first manic episode around age 11 when I started menstruating. I was expelled from school and deeply ashamed. I began to realize that my reactions were disproportionate; everything was either euphoric or devastating. There was no middle ground.
Read the article here