If you ask my therapist, she’ll say I’ve been struggling with hypomanic depression since my freshman year of college. But if you ask me, I think I’ve struggled with some form of mental illness since at least seventh grade. That’s when my bouts of melancholy, followed by periods of merriment began. Until college, the emotions were manageable, not raising alarms as anything more than typical teenage mood swings. But by the middle of my freshman year, the fluctuations were more palpable. During the days of depression, I’d skip class, watching endless hours of TV and eating whatever takeout was easiest to get my hands on. Happiness eluded me, seemingly unattainable. Coming out of those moods felt better, but was by no means healthy. I’d feel frenzied, talkative and overexcited. I would stay up till three and...

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