Amy T.
Photography by Dominick Fini
If you’re reading this, there is hope in resilience.
I admitted to myself I had clinical depression senior year of high school after years of suppression and denial. Coming from a Vietnamese American family, where mental health is rarely talked about and stigmatization regarding medication and therapy is highly prevalent, I sought professional help when I realized my mental illness was directly affecting the relationships in my life. My earliest depressive episode dates back to fifth grade and at the time I did not have the words to describe what was going on. As a ten-year-old, all I knew was nothing felt real, and I had to isolate myself from everyone because I would only bring them down. Anyone who knows me has witnessed times throughout the years where I disappear, cut off all contact, and resurface like everything is normal.
As the eldest daughter from a refugee family, I was the first to formally apply and get into a 4-year university. Throughout my K-12 education, the focus had always been on getting into college, but I had no idea what college looked like. I always thought becoming an adult would solve all my problems when in reality, it just opened a new world of complications, troubles, and setbacks. The night I got into UVA, I cried silently in my room because I thought the weight I had felt throughout my life would finally lift, but in fact, it felt heavier.
After months of severe, destabilizing depression, I made the step to start taking medication after discontinuing therapy because of financial issues. The antidepressant my pediatrician put me on worked wonders and I could finally talk to my family and friends again as well as celebrate getting into UVA and the next chapter of my life that would follow.
My battle with medication did not end there. After a year of being somewhat mentally stable, I experienced my first recorded hypomanic episode at the beginning of the fall 2022 semester. After being depressed for so much of my life and accomplishing things I never thought were possible, I felt on top of the world. So much so, I did not need to eat or sleep as much even though every second of the day was filled to the brim with productivity. Every time I talked to anyone it was a train of unconnected thoughts that ended in “I am finally becoming the person I always wanted to be” without realizing it was not as simple as getting opportunities, I had to follow through on what I committed to, and the list kept growing and growing. Even though I knew my current state was unsustainable and friends were telling me to slow down, I could not physically or mentally bring myself to quit any of the opportunities I worked so hard for. At this point, my racing thoughts and flight of ideas occurred as soon as I woke up and lasted throughout the entire day until I would sleep for three to four hours. Eventually, my body struggled to keep up after lack of food, sleep, and taking care of myself.
I want to make it clear, bipolar disorder looks different in everyone. For me, I experience an increase in goal-oriented activities, lack of sleep and appetite, racing thoughts and excessive speech as well as irritability and intrusive thoughts. After I eventually crash, I go through a long period of severe, inconsolable depression. Due to the varying levels of mania and depression, no one experiences bipolar disorder in the same way because of how individualized the symptoms are. It is not being “moody” or “having multiple personalities”. Bipolar disorder is a mental illness that will disrupt and change your life to the point where you don’t even realize or remember what happened. I barely remember my hypomanic episode, and this is true for many people with bipolar disorder.
I got my diagnosis of bipolar II the weekend of Halloween. I went from feeling invincible and on top of the world to experiencing intense suicidal thoughts like I never had before. I tried different psychiatrists who put me on medications that ultimately didn’t work, and one even told me to get off medication completely because as a “young oriental female”, it was better to be on less medication as my body was more susceptible to it. This sent me into a spiral of deep, intense depression, and this is an issue so many people within the BIPOC community face because our problems are not seen as valid.
I am now seeing an Asian American woman as my psychiatric nurse practitioner, and it has already made a world of a difference. She listens to my struggles and my concerns, prescribes medication based on her extensive knowledge of bipolar disorder, but most of all she understands the shame I carry with me for having a mental illness. In the Asian American community, the cure for depression is to work harder, the antidote for anxiety is to think less, and the remedy for an eating disorder is to eat better. Issues in our community are bottled up to be stored away with the intent to never be opened. We believe if we reveal what is going on in our lives, everything will collapse.
But the truth is everything must fall to pieces before it is built back stronger. The most beautiful and meaningful change occurs in times of uncertainty and anguish. The feeling of hopelessness is not permanent, although it may feel like it is. That is not to say the feeling won’t come back, or life won’t continue to twist and turn in multiple directions leaving you more confused with each move. But through it all, remember to allow yourself to grow, to live freely as well as vibrantly, and to accept you will make mistakes along the way.
It is time for me to live a life on my own terms, not running away but running towards the feeling that happiness can last, optimism can last, maybe not forever but long enough to cherish and hold on to during difficult times. As I am slowly coming to terms with my diagnosis, I understand now my mental health will forever be a battle I have to persevere through. Having bipolar does not make me weak, it is a source of creativity, empathy, and resilience. It makes me strong.
If you’re reading this, fight and find hope in all the fighting.
Amy T., University of Virginia ‘25
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