Bipolar 1 Disorder

Labels. They’re everywhere—sometimes whispered, other times shouted. They can be badges of honor, or weights so heavy they feel impossible to carry. For those of us navigating the complex world of mental health, labels can be both a curse and a compass: they can tether us to shame, or guide us toward understanding and healing.

When I received my first diagnosis, it was like being given a name in a language I didn’t yet understand. Generalized Anxiety Disorder, they said. It felt like someone was trying to summarize my chaos in three sterile words. But the story didn’t stop there. More diagnoses came: OCD, ADHD, PTSD, Bipolar I, BPD, MDD. Each one felt like a name tag hastily slapped onto my chest, screaming, This is who you are!

At first, these labels felt like accusations—loud declarations of my brokenness. But over time, I realized they weren’t insults; they were clues. Maps, imperfect and incomplete, pointing me toward help and understanding. They didn’t erase the fog I was stumbling through, but they showed me there was a way out.

The Harm in Labels

Let’s be honest: labels can hurt.

They can take the intricacy of a human being—our dreams, talents, and quirks—and reduce it to a single word: Depressed. Bipolar. Disordered. Labels have a way of stripping us of our humanity, making us feel like our diagnosis is the only interesting thing about us.

For me, labels invited assumptions. “You’re just overreacting—it’s your borderline personality disorder.” Or, “You can’t focus because you’re ADHD; you’ll never finish anything.” These weren’t just external judgments; they crept into my inner dialogue, convincing me that I was inherently chaotic, undeserving of peace.

And then there’s stigma—society’s quiet but deafening way of saying, You’re not normal. Stigma turns diagnoses into scarlet letters, making us feel like the very thing meant to help us is proof of our failure.

It’s a cruel paradox: the labels intended to guide us can feel like chains, holding us back from the very healing we’re seeking.

The Healing in Labels

But here’s the flip side: labels can also save your life.

When I was first diagnosed, I didn’t understand why my brain felt like a battleground. Why I couldn’t just calm down, or why my sadness felt like an endless, inescapable black hole. My diagnoses became the keys to doors I didn’t know existed. They led me to therapy, to tools and treatments that made my life manageable, even joyful.

I stopped seeing my labels as sentences, and started seeing them as sentences—stories I had the power to rewrite.

Yes, I have Bipolar I. That means my highs and lows are part of my biology, not a moral failing. Yes, I have PTSD. That means my triggers stem from trauma, not weakness.

Understanding the why behind my struggles gave me the power to fight back. And that’s the beauty of labels when they’re used wisely—they don’t define you; they inform you. They don’t confine; they clarify.

Practical Steps for Reclaiming Your Labels

If you’re navigating your own diagnoses and struggling to make sense of the labels, here are some steps that helped me reclaim mine:

1. Reframe Your Narrative:

Challenge the negative stories you’ve attached to your labels. Instead of seeing ADHD as a disorder, see it as a source of boundless creativity and fresh ideas.

2. Educate Yourself:

Learn the science behind your diagnoses. Understanding your brain’s wiring can demystify your struggles and replace shame with empowerment.

3. Find Your Allies:

Surround yourself with people who see you as a whole person, not just a diagnosis. Therapists, support groups, and trusted friends can remind you of your worth when you forget.

4. Practice Radical Self-Compassion:

Treat yourself with the same kindness you’d offer a dear friend. Remember, you’re not broken—you’re beautifully human.

5. Redefine Your Labels:

Create your own empowering name tags. Replace “Anxious” with Thoughtful Strategist. Replace “Depressed” with Resilient Fighter. You get to decide what your labels mean.

The Balancing Act

Here’s the truth: labels are tools, not truths.

They’re like glasses that help us see the world more clearly—but they’re not the entire picture. Your diagnosis is part of your story, but it’s not the title of your book.

Living with a diagnosis means learning to embrace your labels without letting them limit you. It’s about holding space for both: the struggle and the strength, the past and the future, the pain and the possibility.

What I Wish I Knew Sooner

If I could go back to the day I received my first diagnosis, I’d tell myself this:

• Labels are not prisons. They’re the beginning of understanding.

• You’re not broken. You’re human, and humanity is messy and beautiful all at once.

• There’s power in self-awareness. Use your diagnosis as a tool to grow, not a weapon to shrink yourself.

• You’re always more than your labels. Always.

Name Tags for My Mind

When I think about the labels I’ve been given, I no longer feel shame. Instead, I see them as name tags I’ve scribbled over, rewritten, and redefined.

• Instead of “ADHD,” I write Innovative Dynamo.

• Instead of “Bipolar,” I write Resilient Dreamer.

• Instead of “Depression,” I write Warrior of Light.

Because at the end of the day, we are all so much more than the words the world gives us. Our minds are intricate, vast, and endlessly unique—and no single label can capture the fullness of who we are.

So wear your name tags if you must, but don’t be afraid to write your own. After all, you are the author of your story.

To anyone reading this who’s wrestling with their own labels: you are not alone. Take a moment today to reclaim your narrative. Write your own empowering name tags. What words would you use to describe yourself beyond your diagnoses?

Because labels aren’t the ending—they’re the beginning. They’re the first step toward understanding, healing, and thriving. And while the journey may be long, it’s one worth taking.

"Labels are not the story—they’re just the chapter titles. You get to decide how the story unfolds."

Corey Welch

Author | Mental Health Advocate | Champion of Self-Acceptance

Corey Welch

Author | Mental Health Advocate | Champion of Self-Acceptance

#MentalHealth, #ADHD, #SelfAcceptance, #MentalHealthAwareness, #LabelsMatter, #HealingJourney, #OvercomingStigma, #Empowerment, #MentalHealthMatters, #SelfGrowth, #PersonalDevelopment, #ADHDAwareness, #SelfLove, #InnerStrength, #MentalHealthBlog, #EmbraceYourStory, #SelfCompassion, #Resilience, #BreakingStigma, ##mentalhealthsupport

“Healing isn’t about erasing the darkness—it’s about learning to carry the light alongside it.”

My name is Corey Welch, and for much of my life, my mind has felt like a battlefield. Diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), Bipolar I Disorder, PTSD, OCD, ADHD, Insomnia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD), and Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), I often felt trapped in a storm I couldn’t control—a relentless cycle of emotional highs and lows that seemed to define me.

For years, I carried these diagnoses like invisible chains, believing they made me broken. But what I’ve learned is that the darkness, while overwhelming, doesn’t have to define us. This is my story of finding hope amidst the chaos and learning to rebuild a life worth living.

The Day Everything Felt Like Too Much

I remember the moment I hit my breaking point. It wasn’t dramatic—it wasn’t a screaming match or a scene out of a movie. It was quiet. I was sitting in my car, staring at the steering wheel, feeling like the weight of my mind might crush me. My thoughts whispered things I didn’t want to believe: You’re too much. You’re not enough. Maybe everyone would be better off without you.

And yet, even in that silence, something else emerged—a small, stubborn voice. It wasn’t loud, but it was insistent: Not yet. Just take one more breath.

That voice saved me.

Taking that breath didn’t change my life overnight. It didn’t erase the darkness or magically make things easier. But it gave me the strength to take the first step. And that step was asking for help.

The Healing Process: Learning to Untangle the Storm

Therapy became my anchor. I walked into my first session carrying years of pain, guilt, and confusion, and for the first time, I began to unpack it all. My therapist’s voice was calm and steady as she said, “ You are not broken. You’re human, and humans heal. ”

One defining moment happened during a therapy session when I was asked to write a letter to the version of myself I felt most ashamed of—the Corey who had made mistakes, hurt others, and let people down. I wrote the words through tears, feeling the weight of years of self-loathing pour out onto the page.

When I finished, I read the letter aloud. My voice cracked with every sentence:

“ I’m sorry for expecting you to be perfect. I’m sorry for hating you when you were only trying to survive. I forgive you.”

That moment didn’t erase the shame, but it cracked the door open to self-compassion. It was the first time I’d extended grace to myself, and it changed how I began to see my worth.

The People Who Saved Me

Healing didn’t happen in isolation. My wife, Kristin, became my lifeline in ways I can’t fully put into words. One night, after I’d hit another emotional low, she sat beside me, holding my hand as I struggled to put my feelings into words.

“ I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” I told her, my voice barely above a whisper.

She didn’t say, “ It’s going to be okay ” or “ You’re fine. ” Instead, she said, “ I’m here, and we’ll figure it out together. ” Those words became my anchor. She didn’t offer false promises or empty platitudes—she offered presence, and that was enough.

And then there were my daughters. Watching their laughter and boundless energy became my reason to keep going. One night, as I tucked my four-year-old into bed, she looked up at me and said, “ Daddy, are you happy today? ”

The simplicity of her question broke me and healed me at the same time. I realized that while I couldn’t always answer “yes,” I was working toward a life where I could.

What I’ve Learned Along the Way

If you’re in the middle of your own battle, here are a few things I’ve learned that might help:

1. Healing Isn’t Linear.

Some days, you’ll feel like you’re making progress. Other days, it’ll feel like you’ve taken ten steps back. Both are part of the journey.

2. You Are Not Your Diagnoses.

They are part of your story, but they do not define you. You are more than the labels you carry.

3. It’s Okay to Ask for Help.

Therapy, medication, support groups—they’re tools, not signs of failure. Strength is asking for help when you need it.

4. Celebrate the Small Wins.

Sometimes, the smallest victories—like getting out of bed or laughing at a joke—are the ones that matter most.

Turning Pain Into Purpose

Today, I’m not “cured.” There are still hard days, moments when the storm creeps back in. But I’ve learned to weather it, to hold space for both the light and the dark.

Writing became a way to process my journey—a way to make sense of the chaos. It’s why I share my story now, not because I have all the answers, but because I want others to know they’re not alone.

If you’re struggling, I hope my story reminds you that even in the darkest moments, there’s light to be found. It’s not always easy to see, but it’s there, waiting for you to reach for it.

A Message to Anyone Fighting Their Own Battle

Take one more breath. Then another. Keep taking them until you can take the next step. And when you’re ready, reach out. Let someone hold the weight with you.

You are not too much. You are not broken. You are worthy of healing, of love, and of hope.

"The weight of the shadows may press hard, but even the heaviest storms must yield to light. Hold on—there’s always a crack where hope begins to shine through."

With gratitude and light,

#MentalHealthAwareness, #HealingJourney, #SelfCompassion, #Resilience, #BreakingTheSilence, #OvercomingDarkness, #MentalHealthAdvocacy, #BPDRecovery, #BipolarDisorderJourney, #PTSDHealing, #AnxietySupport, #ADHDJourney, #OCDAwareness, #DepressionRecovery, #MentalHealthMatters, #SelfForgiveness, #FamilySupport, #StrengthInAdversity, #HopeAndHealing, #PersonalGrowth, #FindingLight, #WritingToHeal, #SelfDiscovery, #SupportAndConnection, #TurningPainIntoPurpose, #HealingIsMessy, #SmallWinsMatter, #YouAreNotAlone, #mentalhealthcommunity

This 👌

#MightyTogether #MentalIllness #MentalHealth

Below is a link to a page from my blog that contains some accounts of how my Bipolar Disorder has impacted my life. I know that everyone is different and that there are different experiences that we all have, but I hope that if you are to read it, it can help you in some way 👌

Living with Bipolar Disorder

#SubstanceAbuse #Psychosis #Medication #MentalHealth #MentalIllness

The holidays are coming and I am having all these feelings and emotions. This is my first year single after being in a narcissistic marriage of 26 years. I should be happy and have gratitude that I was able to get out of this abusive marriage, however I am not feeling that way.
My kids who are adults 20 and 24 are still living with him and I am on my own for the very first time.
I'm scared and feel lonely. I feel my mental health getting harder to control. I have my toolbox to utilize when things like this happens. Making sure I eat, drink water, take my meds, get some exercise. I know what I am supposed to do, but yet I find myself slowly slipping into isolation. That's a bad place for a person with bipolar and addiction to be. So I am talking about it. I'm not giving my disease the satisfaction of taking me down. I'm speaking out so others that maybe feeling this way know that they are not alone. I need to talk about how my marriage was not good and it turned physical. I need to speak out about how my addiction took me to a place of misery and numbed me from feelings. All these emotions are coming flooding back all at once and I am scared.
This is my awareness. When I write this is my way of allowing myself to process what is going on inside me. It helps me find some acceptance and understanding. I find it therapeutic and once I finish writing I feel I find some of my answers.
I have to remember how grateful and blessed my life is right now and I tend to forget this. I have a career that I have always wanted to be in. I'm a Peer Advocate in an outpatient program in a huge organization. I get to give back to others that are struggling right now. I remember being in that position 4 years ago. I am able to pay my bills and have a few dollars left over. My health is doing good. I have amazing support network who I can call and talk to at anytime. I'm going back to college to get my masters in Social Work. I have a great trauma therapist in my life.
So I have to write and journal on a daily basis so I don't forget what I have and what I can lose should I pick up a drug or stop taking my meds.
Thanks for allowing me to rant and process my feelings. For anyone going through it, remember you are loved. I need all of you as I get through this holiday season.

#Divorce #narcissist #Grief #Addiction #MentalHealth #Bipolar1

The holidays are coming and I am having all these feelings and emotions. This is my first year single after being in a narcissistic marriage of 26 years. I should be happy and have gratitude that I was able to get out of this abusive marriage, however I am not feeling that way.
My kids who are adults 20 and 24 are still living with him and I am on my own for the very first time.
I'm scared and feel lonely. I feel my mental health getting harder to control. I have my toolbox to utilize when things like this happens. Making sure I eat, drink water, take my meds, get some exercise. I know what I am supposed to do, but yet I find myself slowly slipping into isolation. That's a bad place for a person with bipolar and addiction to be. So I am talking about it. I'm not giving my disease the satisfaction of taking me down. I'm speaking out so others that maybe feeling this way know that they are not alone. I need to talk about how my marriage was not good and it turned physical. I need to speak out about how my addiction took me to a place of misery and numbed me from feelings. All these emotions are coming flooding back all at once and I am scared.
This is my awareness. When I write this is my way of allowing myself to process what is going on inside me. It helps me find some acceptance and understanding. I find it therapeutic and once I finish writing I feel I find some of my answers.
I have to remember how grateful and blessed my life is right now and I tend to forget this. I have a career that I have always wanted to be in. I'm a Peer Advocate in an outpatient program in a huge organization. I get to give back to others that are struggling right now. I remember being in that position 4 years ago. I am able to pay my bills and have a few dollars left over. My health is doing good. I have amazing support network who I can call and talk to at anytime. I'm going back to college to get my masters in Social Work. I have a great trauma therapist in my life.
So I have to write and journal on a daily basis so I don't forget what I have and what I can lose should I pick up a drug or stop taking my meds.
Thanks for allowing me to rant and process my feelings. For anyone going through it, remember you are loved. I need all of you as I get through this holiday season.

#Divorce #narcissist #Grief #Addiction #MentalHealth #Bipolar1

In January 2024 I was diagnosed with a benzodiazepine dependence. This was due to the constant prescription of Lorazepam (Ativan) I had been given on and off for the last several months leading up to January’24. I was to ween off by taking one tablet less each prescription. So, I was prescribed 28 tablets at first and took one each night, or day, depending on how much it affected me. The next prescription was a reduced amount of Lorazepam (24 tablets) and I didn’t take it on a certain day in the week and then it was 20 tablets and not taking it on 2 days a week but not two days together, I had to space it out, and so on and so on until I was down to a couple of days a week that I was taking it. It was then I was moved on to Diazepam for the last couple of weeks. This is because there is more control with the dosage of Diazepam at lower levels. You see, 1mg of Lorazepam is equivalent to 10mg of Diazepam. So when I was coming to the end of tapering off the 500mcg Lorazepam tablets were too small to split and there wasn’t a lower dose to prescribe so they used Diazepam to keep the reduction going. I had 5mg tablets, 2mg tablets and finally 1mg tablets. I’ve not had any issues since finishing the course of treatment, so I’m hoping that I won’t need any benzodiazepines in the future as they aren’t really suitable for my problems and as in this case of becoming dependent they were used as a stop gap.

#MightyTogether #Benzodiazepines

Here’s a song that I have written about Bipolar. It’s one of ten songs I have written about it and made in to an album titled simply “Bipolar”. I hope you like it and if you have any questions or comments please feel free to leave them in the comments section below 🙏

#MightyTogether