Bipolar Disorder is perhaps one of the most frequently demonized or idealized mental illnesses. Being one of the more recognized diagnoses, it is also one of the more stigmatized and poorly understood disorders. The public swings from making light of the disorder to considering those affected by it as volatile, threatening, or untrustworthy. These myths not only misinform the public but actually damage those who have the condition, further stigmatizing, isolating, and hindering treatment. Learning the facts about bipolar disorder and the people who live with it is the heart of dispelling these damaging myths and building a more compassionate mental health culture.

Bipolar disorder in the media is exaggerated into a stereotype, such as individuals with the disorder will likely be volatile, melodramatic, or unpredictable. TV shows like Homeland or Empire have had their main characters afflicted with bipolar disorder, but even the higher-end treatments depend on plot devices that drive the character to the dilemma. The media themselves necessarily drift inexorably towards the mania — the all-nighters, the snap judgments, the grand illusions — and skate over the equally ruinous depressive periods. This misrepresentation encourages the stereotype that individuals with bipolar disorder are ticking time bombs and not complex human beings with heavily textured lives.

Such representations also draw upon long-standing stereotypes within the community of mental illness itself. Bipolar disorder (and especially Bipolar I) had, for years, been perceived as an intense and persistent illness with minimal potential for long-term stability. Patients were hospitalized or classified as "noncompliant" if they protested the enormous doses of medication that blinded their emotional lives. Clinicians continue to struggle to differentiate among types of bipolar disorder — Bipolar I, Bipolar II, and Cyclothymia — and are making improper diagnoses and treating patients in an unacceptable manner.

Of the most damaging myths, perhaps the most dangerous is that bipolar illness is simply being moody or that people who have it are simply "dramatic." Bipolar illness is, in fact, a serious and usually disabling disease with cycling mood patterns, mania, or hypomanic episodes, and depression that often markedly impairs everyday life, interpersonal relationships, and self-concept. As defined by the DSM-5, in order to qualify as Bipolar I, there needs to be a manic episode, sometimes followed by or alongside a depressive episode. Bipolar II involves hypomanic (less intense manic) episodes and one major depressive episode.

These are not transient mood swings. Manic phases may involve hallucinations, delusional thinking, risky activity, and inability to sleep or relax. Depressive phases, conversely, may be paralyzing, filled with crippling hopelessness, suicidal ideation, and physical exhaustion. Worse still, many bipolar patients fully perceive the switches and feel powerless in their ability to stop them.

We also culturally struggle with how we conceptualize high and low energy states. Mania is sometimes idealized as creativity steroids, a gift granted to artists or startup founders. But in actuality, it's usually an awful thing to experience. People in manic states first feel euphoric, but the euphoria will probably descend pretty quickly into psychosis, which can lead to financial ruin or ruined relationships. Mania is when the mind's blazing, burning with speed faster than the body can manage. It is not magnificence, it is a loss of control. And depression is not sadness; it is a heavy, stifling weight that makes even the easiest things impossible.

Media and clinical misconceptions about the disorder, gender, race, and class biases also drive this. Women, for instance, will be overtly diagnosed with borderline personality disorder or depression when in fact they have fulfilled diagnostic standards for bipolar disorder. Black men are systematically misdiagnosed as having schizophrenia when they present manic symptoms. These disparities reflect long-standing systemic issues within mental health care and further widen the treatment gap for already stigmatized populations.

Contrary to popular opinion, bipolar disorder is treatable, and the victim of the disorder can lead a full, stable, and meaningful life. Mood stabilizers like lithium, with antipsychotics and antidepressants under regulation, can stabilize mood swings. Treatment, though, does not solely rest in pills. Psychotherapy, including Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) and Interpersonal and Social Rhythm Therapy (IPSRT), also enables one to manage symptoms, acquire habits, and build emotionally.

And perhaps most importantly, people with bipolar disorder flourish because they are rooted in robust support systems and worlds that support predictability and comprehension. Living with bipolar disorder typically involves cultivating awareness of oneself, discovering triggers, and learning to navigate a world that occasionally does not appreciate mental health diversity. Stability isn't symptom removal; it's learning to surf the waves with tools, support, and compassion.

The legend that bipolar people are unstable or threatening is not only wrong, but also dehumanizing. The majority of the patients who suffer from this disorder are unusually sensitive, unusually talented, and unusually bright. They are our teachers, our artists, our parents, our students, and our leaders. They are human beings with a medical illness, one which just so happens to affect mood and energy, but not personality.

Bipolar disorder is also stigmatized as slowing down diagnosis and treatment. The fear of being called “crazy”, losing their children, and being rejected by family and society causes people with bipolar to procrastinate their treatment. It's understandable: the public's education about bipolar disorder is frequently outdated, and bias hangs in the air all too clearly. Some have lost careers, relationships, and lawsuits as a result of their diagnosis. Until society can deal with the complexity of this condition without stereotyping, we will continue to fail the individuals living with it.

We must also be immune to the binary opposition of "normal" and "ill." Mental illness in no way makes one less worthy of love, safety, or sovereignty in one's life. Mood disorders do not make a person incapable of making solid decisions or being a productive member of society. Numerous people with bipolar disorder bring diverse ideas and sensitivity to the world simply because of their experience of extremes of feeling.

So, how do we change the public perception of bipolar disorder from fascination and fright to fairness and compassion?

Let us start by calling for honest, truthful education. Let us teach children in schools about bipolar disorder and other stigmatized disorders as part of other normalized ones, like depression and anxiety. The more we de-mythologize the illness, the less space there will be for myths to enter. Mental health professionals need to be better educated in the detection and treatment of bipolar spectrum disorders, especially in groups that are likely to get misdiagnosed.

Second, there must be a change in media portrayal. We must have characters with bipolar disorder who are not defined by their condition itself. We need tales about and by individuals who have lived experience. They must include recovery, relapse, development, and the everyday facts of coping day-to-day with a cyclical disease. Representation can stigmatize, but it can also minimize stigma and save lives.

Third, we need to create systemic support. This includes research dollars, low-cost psychiatric care, workplace accommodations, and anti-discrimination protections. Mental health is not a luxury; it is a human right.

Bipolar illness is not a personality defect. It is not a laughing matter. It is not a sentence of death. It is an illness, a mood disorder, one that impacts millions of people on the planet, and it must be treated with the same respect, compassion, and dignity that we accord to any other chronic illness.

To live with bipolar is very hard, but it is also a life of resilience, understanding, and profound strength. The more we allow those who have bipolar to speak for themselves - without shame, without judgment - the closer we are to a society that celebrates mental diversity, not fears it.