I've been extremely vocal about my struggle with anxiety and depression over the last few years. You may not have even noticed it, but when I talk about "my experience" with mental illness, I usually don't give it a name.

I keep it vague because I'm worried about what people would think.

That's because the name for my mental illness is something a lot of people think is a synonym for crazy: bipolar disorder.

I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression...first. Most people who later receive a diagnosis for bipolar are primarily misdiagnosed. Why? Because you get help when you're at you're worst, when you feel like there's nowhere else to go.

You see what's happening in the moment, not the patterns that emerge if you piece your past together.

Two doctors told me there was no way I fit the criteria for bipolar disorder. Two doctors told me they couldn't do anything for me. Two doctors sent me on my way.

So I found a doctor who would tell me what I needed to hear.

On April 9th, 2017, I walked into a psychiatrist's office saying that, based on my research, I had rapid-cycling Bipolar II Disorder. I walked out, laughing, with that diagnosis.

For months, I had felt like a crazy person. I had completely lost myself. Nothing brought me joy. I couldn't bring myself to spend time with other people. I skipped all of my classes. I slept. I cried. I barely ate.

I knew that wasn't normal.

Bipolar disorder is about patterns. It's about going through distinctive periods of mania, or times where you feel like absolutely nothing can touch you, like you're riding a high that never ends, and depression, where you feel like the world has turned it's back on you and you're living in darkness.

That was the part of my story that I was missing.

For so long, I had only focused on those dark moments. Because those were the moments were I felt the worst. I didn't realize that the periods of happiness were actually periods of mania.

There came a time when I thought I wasn't going to make it, to the end of the semester, to the due date on my next assignment, even to the next morning.

So I did something about it.

To tell the truth, the real reason I transferred schools was because my environment was only exacerbating the symptoms of my bipolar disorder.

I was too anxious to leave my dorm room because I didn't have control. I didn't have the drive to work hard because I felt like I was being set up to fail. I didn't want to spend time with anyone because I was too ashamed of what I was going through.

My entire life, I had put on a show that I was the girl who had it all together.

Well world, the truth is, I'm just as much of a mess as anyone else.

When I was first diagnosed, I let those two words, bipolar disorder, define who I was. I fell into the symptoms because I had no way to dig myself out. I wasn't on the proper medication. I wasn't in therapy. I wasn't in an environment where I could thrive.

Now, I recognize that my diagnosis is an important part of who I am. Very frankly, I would not be the person I am today nor have the goals I do if it were not those two little words.

The difference between letting it define you and letting it be a part of you? How you react to it. I found the right medications. I carry them with my in my little old lady pill organizer. I touch base with my psychiatrist every week.

And the most crucial aspect of my recovery? I acknowledge that it's just that: recovery. I am not "fixed," nor do I ever think I will be. Manic and depressive periods don't just go away. It's inevitable that they're going to happen.

But I am never going to let them hold power over me again.

Yes, I'm terrified that my happiness could just be another manic phase. But that's a part of learning how to cope with living as a human with bipolar disorder.

So let's just clear a few things up before I go:

The fact that I'm so perky and excitable is not a symptom of bipolar. That's just who I am.

The fact that I get pissed off and can lose my sh*t is not a symptom of bipolar. That's just who I am.

And most importantly, the fact that I have bipolar disorder doesn't change a thing about what you already know about me as a person.

I'm the same person who loves to debate social issues, who spends her days in a dark studio riding stationary bikes, who just wants to belt her heart out onstage every once in a while.

That person, the person you've had in your life for however long, is a person living with bipolar.

But that person is still me. Just because you know my "secret" now, doesn't change a single thing.