The biggest thing I can think of is that yes, it gets easier. It gets boring as well, and periodically it gets really frustrating, but that's true of managing any chronic condition. I get sick of monitoring my moods sometimes too, but I also get sick of pain management for my osteoarthritis, and unfortunately, we've just got to battle on and keep doing it. But from that first diagnosis, spending a month on the ward and then a couple of months in recovery at home, I'm now capable of recognising impending trouble and nipping it in the bud without it necessarily being a huge deal.

My brother once told me to check myself but not bully myself (that was essentially the phrasing, but I don't remember exactly). I do a daily mood check-in (more on that shortly) and try not to harass myself about how I'm feeling. I try to look at the logical and illogical reasons behind it, resolve problems if something specific is messing me up, and let go of the things I can't change.

I think the approach that my former psychiatrist took when first getting me onto medication was sensible, which was to worry less about the specific label and more about treating the symptoms. Meds can vary hugely in what they do for people, but I have personally always done better on them than not. I have a regular antidepressant as part of my morning meds and then a mood stabiliser and antipsychotic at night. I'm personally very in favour of meds for bipolar, having seen how adversely being unmedicated can affect people. The caveat is that most of the times I have been hospitalised since the first time (2010, when I was diagnosed), it's been due to meds issues. All I can say is to be extra aware of yourself if you're trying different medication.

Tips:

It's SO boring sometimes, but keep a mood diary. I use Finch for this, along with tracking meds and a few other things. It can really help to see the patterns in your moods; it's how we established there's a seasonal component to mine, and so my meds get bumped up in winter (I do know people whose symptoms get worse in summer, though, so that's one reason it's better to track your moods for a while). I do a daily check-in and on Finch it's literally just a scale of 1-5 with emotes, so it's very low-pressure.

Let your doctor(s) guide your medication, but don't hesitate to speak up if you feel totally flattened out, or excessively wired up, or like it's just not working. Not everything will work the first time.

Read up on your medication side effects and interactions. Try not to get too hung up on them, but also, if you're getting shitty side effects, there's frequently going to be an alternative medication you can try.

Be kind to yourself. Get to know how your bipolar affects you personally, because it affects people so differently. Get to know your warning signs. I know I'm headed downhill if I feel too wrung out at the end of the day to brush my teeth and shower. I know I'm experiencing hypomania if I'm functioning on less sleep than I ought to be, my mind is racing, and I suddenly have a bunch of ideas for creative projects, especially if I'm looking at buying lots of stuff for them. It doesn't mean they're unequivocally a bad idea, but it does mean I should write down the project and the components and give myself thinking time, rather than jumping straight onto eBay.

Do the art therapy or singing group or whatever thing is on offer on the ward if you end up in inpatient because if you stay in your room all day your social skills will atrophy. Also, go outside if you can.

Go outside in general. Nature is so good for mental health. I am actually very bad at following this advice, so callout post to myself here.

Just because it's not curable doesn't mean it's the end of the world.

Resources:

I found The Bipolar Disorder Survival Guide by David J. Miklowitz to be a very good read that provided a lot of information without getting too dense or horrifying.

Having a good therapist/psychologist to talk to in addition to whoever is prescribing you medication is really good. I've gone through a bunch of them simply due to people moving to practice elsewhere, retiring, and so on, and it can be very frustrating to have to recap everything to a new therapist, but if you can get on someone's books, try to. The bulk of the therapy I've undergone is cognitive behavioural therapy.

I've called Lifeline before when I've needed to because sometimes crying down the phone at a stranger is enough to reset my awareness of my mental state. 13 11 14 or Lifeline.

Take online self-tests with a grain of salt, but Black Dog Institute's information sheets are generally pretty useful.

Health Direct has some information and some further links.

Things I wish I'd known:

Bipolar disorder, or bipolar affective disorder, or manic-depressive psychosis as it was back in the day, is a horribly reductive name, because in fact there are (at least) two other potential 'poles': rapid cycling, which means switching between depression and mania very quickly in a short period of time, and mixed state/episode, which means experiencing symptoms of both at the same time. I don't tend to get rapid cycling, but I do get mixed episodes, and they fucking suck.

Meds aren't supposed to fully flatten you out. Actually, I was somewhat aware of this going in (again, other family members had their diagnoses before me), but it's pretty key in finding meds that work for you without making you nonfunctional. Especially if you go down the antipsychotic route, which could apply whether it's bipolar or schizophrenia. A good psych will start you on low doses and go up if needed.

It's worth trying the stupid coping mechanisms at least twice (once to see if it does suck, twice to see if you were wrong the first time) despite how stupid they sound at the outset because sometimes they actually are stupid and sometimes they turn out to be incredibly helpful. I thought breathing exercises (some examples at Beyond Blue) were pointless because if I was spiralling into, for example, an anxiety attack, I didn't think I could focus on my breathing. As it turned out, practicing them often enough has made them become an instinctive thing and I can stop myself from what would otherwise be exhausting crying fits with them.

It's okay to ask for help. The first time I was hospitalised, after months of struggling with deepening depression, I had to be told that that was the necessary step. Later times, I reached out to family and my partner and my psych. The most recent time I went into inpatient, I actually called Triple 0 and had police come do a wellness check on me that led to them taking me to the emergency, which I don't recommend for everyone, but because I knew I was only (potentially) a danger to myself, I took that step.