When I was first diagnosed with Bipolar II and depression, I felt broken. Not just because of the label, but because I spent years misunderstanding myself—and letting others misunderstand me too.

This isn’t just about mental illness; it’s about learning to forgive the person I was before I understood why I struggled.

It was only later, in the quiet moments of deep grief, that I realized: the hardest person to forgive was me.

Yes, this is a story about forgiveness, but not in the way you might expect.

This is the beginning of my journey to forgiving my past self, grieving the life I thought I’d have, and slowly piecing together a softer, more honest version of who I am.

When the Diagnosis Shook Everything

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Getting the news that you have Bipolar II isn’t like flipping a switch. It’s more like the slow crashing of waves—first confusion, then shame, then a kind of aching grief you can’t quite name.

Before the diagnosis, I wasn’t just struggling—I was surviving. The unpredictable mood swings, the weeks of low energy, the spirals of guilt after every impulsive choice… I thought it was all my fault.

“Why can’t I just be normal?”
“Why do I keep ruining good things?”
“What’s wrong with me?”

For years, I mistook symptoms for personal failings.

When I finally sat in front of a psychiatrist and heard the words “Bipolar II with major depressive episodes,” I should’ve felt relief. I wasn’t imagining it. There was a name for what I’d been going through. But instead, I felt deep, raw grief.

Grieving the Version of Me I Used to Pretend To Be

There’s a strange kind of grief that comes after a mental health diagnosis. It’s not about death—it’s about letting go of the illusion that you were ever fine.

I grieved:

• The happy-go-lucky version I pretended to be
  
• The relationships I sabotaged during hypomanic highs
  
• The jobs I couldn’t keep
  
• The energy I didn’t have, but forced myself to fake

That grief didn’t come all at once.

It crept in at 2 AM, panic attacks, in photos from years I barely remembered, in text threads I couldn’t bear to reread.

And that’s when I realized something painful but true: I was holding a lot of unforgiveness toward myself.

Why Forgiving Myself Was So Hard

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Forgiveness is easy to say, but so hard to live. Especially when your own mind feels like the thing you’re angry at.

I blamed myself for:

• Hurting people when I was unwell
  
• Not asking for help sooner
  
• Being “too much,” “too sad,” or “too unstable”
  
• Not being the daughter, friend, or partner others expected me to be

And deep down, I believed I didn’t deserve forgiveness. That maybe I had already messed everything up beyond repair.

But then one day, I heard this quote:

Forgiveness is giving up the hope that the past could have been any different.
— Oprah Winfrey

It hit me like a wave.
For the first time, I saw compassion as a choice, not a reward.

I couldn’t change what I didn’t know. But I could choose to be gentler with the person I was before I understood my illness.

The First Step: Choosing Forgiveness Every Day

Healing didn’t happen overnight.
I didn’t wake up one morning and say, “Okay, I forgive myself. All better!”

It was slower, gentler—like relearning how to breathe.
Here’s how forgiveness started to take root in my daily life:

• Acknowledging the pain. Saying out loud: Yes, I made mistakes. Yes, I was unwell. Both things can be true.
  
• Accepting the diagnosis. Not as a punishment, but as a lens to understand my story more clearly.
  
• Letting go of shame. I started telling people the truth—I have Bipolar II. I’m learning to live with it.
  
• Setting gentle boundaries. Especially with those who didn’t understand, or who made me feel “less than.”
  
• Speaking kindly to myself. Replacing “You ruined everything” with “You did your best with what you knew then.”

Each small act of grace was a way of saying:
I am still worthy, even while healing.

What Forgiveness Looks Like in Real Life

Here are some of the small but powerful ways I practice forgiveness in my daily life:

• Writing letters I never send. To myself, to old friends, and to the version of me who was just trying to survive.
  
• Keeping a healing journal. Where I write every time I choose grace over guilt.
  
• Celebrating tiny wins. Like showing up to therapy, getting out of bed, or simply recognizing when I need rest.
  
• Pausing before spiraling. Because self-awareness is a quiet form of self-love.

It’s not perfect. Some days I still cry over things I can’t change. But more and more, I’m realizing:

You don’t have to be fully healed to be worthy of love.

Do You Struggle to Forgive Yourself Too?

If this resonates with you—if you’ve been diagnosed, or you’ve gone through your own mental health journey—ask yourself:

You’re not alone if these questions feel hard to answer.

• What am I grieving?
  
• What guilt am I still carrying?
  
• If I could speak to my past self, what would I say?

You might be surprised how healing it feels just to acknowledge your truth.

Key Lessons I’m Still Learning

• Forgiveness is not linear. Some days you’ll feel strong. Some days you’ll slip. Both are okay.
  
• Grief and gratitude can coexist. You can mourn your old life while being thankful for the clarity you have now.
  
• You are not your diagnosis. It explains some things—but it doesn’t define who you are.

Healing is allowed to be messy. You don’t need to have it all figured out to move forward.

From Grief to Grace: You’re Not Alone

When I look back now, I see a scared girl who needed understanding, not shame. And while the world still has a long way to go in understanding mental illness, we can start by giving ourselves what we’ve always needed:

Kindness. Space. Patience. Forgiveness.

And while forgiveness is personal, healing is collective.

Looking Ahead: Part 2 Is Coming Soon

This is just the beginning. In Part 2 of the Healing Story Series, I’ll share how support systems, therapy, and gentle routines helped deepen my self-forgiveness. We’ll talk about what it’s like to live with Bipolar II—not just survive it—and how to stop apologizing for being human.

Because the next chapter of healing isn’t about pretending everything is fine—it’s about finding peace in the truth.

FAQs

1. How can I tell if I’m actually healing or just avoiding my trauma?
Healing often involves feeling uncomfortable emotions rather than avoiding them. If you’re reflecting, setting boundaries, or learning from your triggers instead of numbing them, that’s a sign of genuine growth. Avoidance usually feels like escape—healing feels like acceptance, even when it’s hard.

2. What are small, practical steps for daily trauma recovery?
Start with gentle consistency. This could mean journaling for five minutes, practicing mindful breathing, getting sunlight each morning, or scheduling therapy check-ins. The key isn’t intensity—it’s showing up for yourself every day, even in small ways.

3. Can growth happen even if I still have bad days?
Absolutely. Growth doesn’t mean constant happiness—it means resilience. Having bad days doesn’t erase your progress; it simply reminds you that healing isn’t linear. Every time you choose self-care over self-criticism, you’re growing, even if it doesn’t feel like it yet.

Your Turn: What Do You Need to Forgive Yourself For?

Drop a comment. Send a message. Write it down, even if it’s just for your eyes only.

Whether you share it or keep it private, what matters is beginning the conversation with yourself.

You don’t have to carry this alone anymore.

Quick Recap: Healing Through Forgiveness

• A diagnosis can bring unexpected grief.
  
• Forgiveness isn’t about forgetting; it’s about freeing yourself.
  
• You can grieve and still move forward.
  
• Small steps matter: journaling, affirmations, boundaries, and honesty.
  
• Your healing story is unfolding—one gentle choice at a time.

Take five minutes today. Close your eyes. Place your hand over your heart. Say it out loud:

“I forgive myself for not knowing. I am learning. I am healing. I am enough.”

Then breathe. That’s where healing begins.